She shook her head. “I doubt your wife would see it that way. Christmas dinner hasn’t been served yet.”
“Okay, but remember I offered.” Razor opened the front door.
“What’s that supposed to mean.”
He pointed to the SUV sitting in the driveway as a man she didn’t recognize climbing out to open her door. “Your ride, Sis.”
“I’m perfectly—”
“Let me do this so I don’t worry and ruin Christmas dinner.”
“You’re so full of shit.” Saylor stood on her tiptoes and kissed Razor’s cheek. “But I love you anyway.”
“Tell Monk we all said hi.”
She would if she saw him. She still wasn’t sure she would. And even if she did, maybe it wouldn’t be for long. After all, she still hadn’t heard from him and today was Christmas.
Saylor had to try, though. At least to tell him how she felt and that whenever he was ready, she’d be waiting for him. Even if it took forever. The vow Saylor made to never fall in love again was back in place. This time, though, she knew she’d never fall in love again after Monk.
With the lack of traffic, it only took the driver forty-five minutes to get her to the hospital. As they pulled up to the front entrance, she almost told him she’d changed her mind and asked him to take her back to Maryland, but when she looked up, she could see Monk walking toward the door.
“Thanks,” she shouted, jumping out and half-running, half-walking inside. She pulled her phone out.
Look up, she wrote and hit send on the text.
“Hi,” she said as they walked toward each other.
“Saylor.”
“Merry Christmas, Monk.”
“What are you doing here?”
“My mom, the girls, and I are spending Christmas in Annapolis again this year. How’s Onyx?”
“No change.”
“I’m sorry, Monk. I was praying for a Christmas miracle.”
She watched as he took his one glove off and put both in his pocket. She looked into his eyes when he took another step forward. He gripped her nape with one hand, wrapped his other arm around her waist, and kissed her. If there was anything she would’ve asked for as a Christmas gift, this was it—a kiss from Monk.
He pulled back and looked in her eyes. “I’m sorry—”
She put her fingertips on his lips. “Don’t. Where were you going?”
“Dinner.”
She tucked her arm in his. “Good. I’m hungry.”
“It’s cold,” he said as they left the hospital.
“I’m okay to walk.” She snuggled against him, praying she wasn’t dreaming. How many times had she dreamed they were together again? Countless.
“This is nice,” she said when they exited the elevator in his building and he opened the door to his loft.
She walked around, looking in the opened doors. “It’s big.”
Saylor turned around when she didn’t hear him respond and saw he was looking inside the refrigerator. She walked over and wrapped her arms around his waist. “When did you last eat?” she asked.