Unwrap Me by J. Kenner

what-ifs that could change that. No matter what, we will always find each other. So what does it matter if I buy the condo or you do? That’s just timing. The important part is us. And I think I forgot that last night, just for a little bit. I’m sorry.”
    “Oh, baby,” he says. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?”
    “You know I do,” I say, then lose myself in his long, slow kiss that makes me tingle all over, lighting me up just like a Christmas tree.
    “It’s early,” he says when he breaks the kiss. “Barely dawn. But Ronnie’ll be up soon, and I’d like us to do our presents first. Alone. Do you mind?”
    I shake my head. “Of course not,” I say, then slip on Christmas pajamas and a matching robe while Damien puts on green and red flannel pajama bottoms. I sit on the bed and watch him dress, enjoying the way the muscles in his chest and abs move as he slides on a plain white T-shirt. When his head appears again he’s grinning. “Enjoying the view?”
    “Enjoying
my
view,” I retort.
    He holds out his hand, and we move quietly into the great room. The world beyond the glass doors is still gray, with just the slightest hint of purple beginning to color the sky.
    “I just got you the one,” Damien says. “That was our deal, right?”
    In light of Damien’s resources, it seemed prudent to put a limit on the whole gift exchange thing, especially considering how many presents he buys me on a regular day. And, honestly, when I think about the trouble I had coming up with the pocket watch idea, I’m glad we limited the number of presents.
    “You first,” he says, handing me a small package that weighs next to nothing.
    I shake it and tap it, but I have absolutely no guess as to what it could be, and so finally I just rip into the pretty red paper. I’m sitting cross-legged on the floor, and by the time I reveal the plain cardboard box beneath, there’s a pile of paper and ribbon beside me.
    “Any ideas?” he asks.
    “Not even one.” But since I really can’t wait to find out, I open the box, then clap my hand over my mouth to hide an otherwise loud squeal when I see what’s inside.
    It’s a Looney Tunes lunchbox. The very one that I coveted throughout my childhood. Except I don’t remember ever telling him about it, at least not at any time that wasn’t in a dream.
    But surely I must have, because here it is, and I’m holding and touching it, and hugging it to my chest.
    “Damien…”
    “Open it,” he orders, looking exceptionally pleased with himself.
    I comply, and find what appear to be hundreds of little origami stars. I put my finger in and stir them around, then look up at Damien curiously.
    “Pick one,” he tells me. “Just one, then open it.”
    I do. It unfolds easily into a small strip of paper with tiny printed words. This one says
Whatever you want, whatever you need.
    I swallow a gasp and feel my eyes well with tears. “Oh my god, Damien.”
    He is grinning wide, clearly proud of himself. “One for every day this year.”
    “It’s amazing.” I lean forward and kiss him. “You’re amazing.”
    “I often think so,” he quips, and I have to laugh as he grabs the box I put under the tree for him. It’s about the size of a laundry basket to camouflage the small present inside. “My turn,” he says, then starts to tear off the paper, leaving at least as much of a mess as I did.
    My stomach is in knots, and I wish I’d somehow managed something cleverer or more heartfelt than a simple pocket watch.
    Damien opens the top of the cardboard box and peers inside, then sucks in a sharp breath. I roll my eyes, knowing he’s being a goof, because all that’s in there is crushed up wrapping paper until he gets to the tiny box at the very bottom. But then he reaches in, and it’s not paper he pulls out—it’s a teddy bear.
    An old-fashioned bear with soft fur and jointed limbs and a little vest with a red kerchief.
    I stare, completely flummoxed, because that