His For Christmas by Fiona Shin

their path.
    She reached forward, then, kissed him on his temple, his skin soft against her fingertips. “I love you, Elliot Whitley. God forgive me, but I love you.”
    And she would do it again, kiss him again a million times, a million places.
    He laughed, a loud rush of sound and she was in the air, as he put his hands on her waist and twirled her around in that kitchen. She let him, let the tears dry on her face, a feeling of wonder pervading her senses.
    “What is going on here?”
    Mrs. Miller stared at them, face aghast, hands akimbo at her narrow hips. “You’re going to burn the place down, Mrs. Stevens! Mr. Whitley, I demand you put my cook down this very instant!”
    Ivy sniffed.
    The eggs!
    She twisted out of Elliot’s grasp and raced to the oven where a truly awful sight greeted her eyes.
    She heard Elliot and Mrs. Miller argue, as she wrapped the edge of her apron around the skillet handle and dumped the whole thing into the sink.
    “She is still my cook, Mr. Whitley, or until the very least I can find a replacement. How dare you try to snatch my employee from right under my nose!”
    “I beg your pardon, madam. She is not your employee. She is going to be my wife and I’m taking her home. Right now. Home.”
    Home.
    What a wonderful word.
    Elliot put a hand on her waist and led her out of the kitchen, as Mrs. Miller looked on in horror.
    “You can’t just take her!”
    He laughed and despite her chagrin at leaving her employer in such a state, Ivy felt her lips curve up. “As you can see, that is just what I’m doing. Now, good day to you.”
    Still, even though happiness was enough to make Ivy feel as though she had grown wings, she could not leave like this.
    “Wait, Elliot.”
    He paused, as several boarders stared at them with equal amounts of confusion and glee. “For?”
    Ivy grabbed Mrs. Miller’s hands. “Mrs. Miller, how can I ever ask for your forgiveness? I know I’m leaving you in a great deal of trouble.”
    Mrs. Miller’s lips pursed as though she was sucking on a lemon. “Indeed you are, Mrs. Stevens.”
    “I lied,” admitted Ivy. “I’m sorry.”
    The proprietress sighed and then disentangled her hands. “Oh, very well, then. Mr. Whitley, please take your wife home!”
    He laughed and Ivy loved every second of it. “She will be soon enough, Mrs. Miller.”
    “I should certainly hope so, Mr. Whitley,” replied Mrs. Miller who then fixed Ivy with steady eyes. “Mrs. Stevens, you are always welcome here. Do you understand?”
    Ivy was almost afraid of being too happy. “Of course, Mrs. Miller. Thank you so much.”
    The usually dour woman winked.
    And Elliot gathered Ivy in his arms and she nestled her face into his coat, drawing deep of that familiar, that beloved smell of leather and pine.
    “Shall we go home then, love?”
    She traced the smile on his lips, vaguely registering the sound of applause from the boarders and Mr. Miller.
    “Yes, my love,” said Ivy. “Yes.”
     

Acknowledgments
     
     
    Cover art by Fiona Shin. Stock photo provided by Graham Soult from SXC. For more information regarding cover art, please send an email to [email protected]
     

About Fiona Shin
     
     
    Located just outside Chicago, Illinois, Fiona Shin is a multi-published author under a pseudonym and enjoys hearing from her readers. Come visit her at www.fionashin.wordpress.com!