Picking up my head, to look into Rosie’s warm hazel eyes I ask her, “Will you spend Christmas morning with me?â€?

“That depends,â€? her lashes flutter and I can see her cheeks flush, “Do I get to spend Christmas night with you?â€?

“You spoil me, you know. I’d love nothing more.â€? She kisses me again and we walk to the car, watching the snow fall. I turn on the radio inside and whack it once with the side of my hand to stop the crackle. Carols fill the car and Rosie sings along. She doesn’t have a spectacular voice, but what makes the moment perfect is her softly crooning Winter Wonderland.

We walk through the door some time after 3:00 a.m. and tip-toe up the stairs, slipping into the attic room like a couple of Saint Nick’s bandits.

“You look awfully cold, Miss Adams,â€? I coo to her, “You must need some extra body heat to warm you up.â€?

“I bet you could help me with that.â€? We climb under the covers, squeezing as close as possible and becoming a knot of intertwined limbs. I never want this night to end.