It’s too quiet.

The absence of sound… neither the TV or the radio or light snoring or the tap tap tap of fingers on a mobile phone touch screen niggles at me enough to drag me from the depths of slumber.

I sit up, inhaling a deep breath as I do, shoving a curtain of hair out of my eyes and slowly coming to. A glance at the other side of the bed tells me JC is not sprawled next to me, spread eagle and taking up most of the bed.  From the floor below comes muted sounds of conversation that at first I mistake for the TV until I hear the front door close, a car door slamming and an engine revving as it drives away.  

“What the hell?”

I throw the covers back, intending to find out what JC is up to-- on Christmas morning, no doubt.  But then the bedroom door opens and JC saunters in. His jeans hang low on his hips and his favorite shirt, an AC/DC concert t-shirt, hangs just above the band, the hem tattered and uneven. He’s unshaven and his hair is still sleep tousled.

If I wasn’t so confused, I’d be tempted to pull him to the bed and give him a Merry Christmas—my way.

“Oh good,” he says, clapping his hands together. “You’re up. We need to get a move on. Got stuff to do.”

This announcement does nothing to move me from the bed. “What stuff? We have brunch at your parent’s place and dinner at mine. Remember? We planned it so we didn’t have to be anywhere early.”

JC rolls his eyes. “That’s not all we’re doing today. Get up.”

I yawn, still perched on the side of the bed. “I’m up. Damn.”

“Get out of the bed and put clothes on and come downstairs.”

Irritated, I slap the surface of the mattress. “Really, JC? I wanted us to wake up together on Christmas morning. Instead you’re playing Drill Sergeant and I’m not amused, okay? I’m up. I’ll be downstairs when I get good and ready to go downstairs.”

He opens a drawer in the bureau and digs out a thick cotton hoodie. He pulls it over his head, talking through the fabric. “Five minutes, Evangeline. Dress warm, it’s a little chilly out.”

“Out? We’re going out? For what?! Where are we going?”

“Somewhere,” he says, he that smug grin he used to always wear returning. I thought we were done with surprises, but I see that we’re not.   

“Because I love you, I am going along with this. But whatever this is better be good.”

“You’ll see. Four minutes.”

“You said five!”

JC chuckles and walks back out of the bedroom. “Wasted a minute arguing with me. Let’s go!”

In three minutes, I am downstairs in jeans, sneakers, a long sleeved shirt and a hoodie. It still smells like coffee and bacon, but the coffeemaker is dry and empty and JC has no idea how to make bacon.  The house is quiet and as clean as we had left it the night before. Our Christmas tree is lit, the lights winking at me in synchronized fashion. Over the fireplace, two festive stockings hang, one initialed JC and the other EB.

JC is in the kitchen, leaning against a counter and tapping away at his phone, which is vibrating every few seconds. The mirth on his face is boyish and fun and reminds me of the funny kid that lived down the street.  The one that grew into a handsome teenager, the one that I fell in love with, and then lost for awhile and thankfully, came back to get me.

My heart melts, just a bit. It’s early and cold but he’s planned a surprise and he’s excited about it. I guess I can play along.

“So, I’m downstairs. What now?”

JC glances up at me, then slides the phone into his front pocket, plucks a set of keys from a hook next to the refrigerator and points toward a basket sitting on the table. It’s wicker with red and green gingham fabric around the edges and woven around the handle. The bacon smell is coming from inside the basket.

“Grab that and let’s hit the road.”

It won’t do any good to ask questions. Once he gets something in his head, it has to play out and apparently I have to be a part of it. I pick up the basket, hang it in the crook of an arm and follow JC out the front door.

Where I stop and stare with my jaw practically on the ground.

In the driveway, instead of JC’s Benz, is a vintage 1993 cherry red Jeep Wrangler. It’s a soft top with the spare tire on the back and removable doors. The interior is tan leather, cracked with age.  It looks eerily similar to the one JC owned for years and drove until it died, after which he bought his first Benz. The one we used to cruise around Orlando in; the one we used to hang out at Lake Conway in.

JC stalks right to the driver’s side, keys the lock and hops in before unzipping his window and hanging out of the opening. “C’mon. We got places to go, baby.”

Stunned, I walk around the vehicle to the passenger side door. JC leans over, pops the latch and pushes the door open.  “Hand that over,” he says, gesturing toward the basket. I hand it to him and then climb inside, then take it back once I am settled in my seat.

JC starts the Jeep and it’s like being in high school all over again—the rumble of tires on pavement under my seat, sitting high above traffic, listening to the gentle rattle of the engine. The memory of sitting in the passenger seat of a Jeep next to JC makes me smile.

He puts the Jeep in reverse and the house gets smaller as we back away from it.  I watch out of the window as JC speeds to the entrance of the subdivision and hangs a right. If we were going to town, he’d turn left. This way…

“Are we going where I think we’re going?”

“Depends on where you think we’re going.”

 “This is the way to the other side of the lake.”

He nods, his expression blank. “So it is.” He loves doing this to me.  

He pushes the Jeep a few hundred yards and confirms my guess that we’re heading to the other side of the lake by taking a right turn on a familiar dirt road.

“We’re really doing this? Right now, today? On Christmas of all days, we’re going to the other side of the lake?”

“Have you been out here since the last time we were together?” The weekend before homecoming. We’d talked about our plans for the night… and for later that night. We’d had the millionth conversation about our future. We broke up the next weekend and I hadn’t seen this side of the lake since.

“No. It was too painful.” I glance over at him. His expression is getting less playful and more serious. “You said you hadn’t. Is that true?”

“True.” Then he takes his eyes off of the road long enough to level a concentrated stare at me. “So it’s about time we came back out here, right?”

I don’t answer. The question is rhetorical and the answer is obvious and besides… we’re doing it, whether I agree or not.

After a few minutes of driving, the Jeep bursts through a thicket of trees into an open area where a field of grass separates the road from the water. This signals that we are near our spot—a nice divot in the grass where we back up up to the lake. After passing it twice, JC finds the spot and maneuvers the Jeep perfectly, like he just did it yesterday. He puts the vehicle in park but leaves the key in ignition, keeping the heater on.

“You know the drill, baby.”

JC isn’t the only one who remembers things from decades ago. I get out, get into the backseat and unhook the clasps that hold the seat up. Once they are loose, the seat flops back and we have space to sit. Or lay. JC opens the basket and pulls out a light blanket that’s usually slung across the back of our couch. He spreads it over the seat and with a flourish, invites me to sit.

“I’m sorry this is kind of cheesy. I pulled it together at the last minute. I know it’s cold and you wanted to sleep in and there are better things we can do on Christmas morning.”

“Baby, it’s…” I glance through the thick plastic that comprises the rear window. The sun is high in the sky, bright and reflecting beautifully off of the choppy waves. The trees that line the banks stir in the breeze. I’m sitting in a warm cloud of nostalgia next to the love of my life.

“It’s not cheesy at all.”

He grins, obviously proud of himself. “You can’t tell me you’ve ever had a picnic breakfast before. This is romantic as fuck, right?”

I close my eyes and try hard not to laugh. “It is, as you say, romantic as fuck. What is the occasion for an early morning picnic breakfast?”

“You’ll find out in a minute.”  JC starts pulling things from the basket—two McDonald breakfast sandwiches, a plastic container of mixed fruit and a thermos.  There is also a box of milk and packets of sugar. He screws the top off of the thermos and hands both to me. “Why don’t you get started on some coffee and I’ll set up the spread?”

In a few minutes we have a rudimentary picnic breakfast set up between us. We feast on bacon egg and cheese on English muffins and nearly overripe fruit, share a cup of coffee and listen to Lake Conway splash onto the shore just a few feet away. It feels familiar; not unlike devouring burgers and fries after a football game or pizza after a dance. We used to love to steal away to the lake to be alone, to make love and dream out loud about our future. A future that we were now living.

“This is really nice, actually. I hadn’t thought much about coming out here again but I think it’s the perfect day to do it. I’m glad we’re here.”

“Good,” he says, his mouth full of eggs and bacon.  When he swallows, he goes on, indicating the ring that graces my right hand that he’d given me the night before. “I was going to give you that ring out here. It was going to be your birthday present.”

My heart melts. “That would have been really sweet.”

“Yeah.” He starts to say something but hesitates. He seems enchanted by the water rushing by, but eventually he starts again. “This is going to sound weird, but…sometimes I’m grateful that we broke up.”

Grateful wouldn’t be the word I would use. Even though I was angry at him for so long, I was also miserable. I mourned what might have been for nearly two decades. “Why grateful?”

“Because… I guess…in some ways, our parents were right. We were all wrapped up in each other. It was so intense. I was crazy about you. So crazy that when we broke up, it broke me. I mean, yeah… we were in love but—“

“It was immature love,” I finish, understanding and nodding in agreement. “It hadn’t been tested.”

“It was hopeful and dreamy. And naïve. And there’s no way that could last. It’s the same thing I try to tell Ty, you know? It was easy to be desperately in love when we both lived at home and I worked part time and our biggest problem was making it to homeroom before the bell rang and finding a private place to have sex. I think we needed time away from each other, to mature and stand on our own two feet. Maybe it didn’t happen the way it should have happened. And maybe we didn’t need 20 years, but that was my fault.”

“Not all your fault. I share a lot of blame, too.”

JC concedes my point with a nod as he finishes his sandwich. “I mean, I wonder if we would still be together if we would have never broken up. Would we have burned bright and then fizzled out? Or would we have stuck it out together? Like, I look at Nick and Morgan and I can’t imagine we would have had what they have. They’re an extraordinary couple but even they split up for a minute.”

“You tell me all the time that we aren’t Nick and Morgan, but even they realized what they meant to each other and ultimately got back together. Look…”

I set down the coffee and breakfast sandwich and lay a hand against his cheek, turning his head toward mine. The stubble of his overnight beard growth pricks at the tips of my thumbs. I love that feeling, especially against my cheek every morning. “We can speculate all day, but we can’t change a single second of what happened between us. That’s all gone, so there’s no sense in regretting those years we could have been together. All I want to think about now is all the years I still have with you.”

The smile I love to see returns. He leans in to kiss me and says, “Happy to hear you say that, Evangeline.” Then he reaches for the basket and roots around the bottom. When his hand emerges, he’s holding a small velvet box. My stomach does a quick flip-flop and my heart rate speeds up so quickly I can’t breathe.

It’s not a surprise, but I’m caught off guard. I imagined this happening in a different way. Not in casual clothes in the back seat of a Jeep, for instance. But suddenly I realize… this is perfect. It’s happening exactly where it should happen.

“I can’t do this in here,” he says. His voice is a little shaky. I think it’s cute. He’s actually nervous! Let’s get out.”

I scramble toward the door and climb out of the Jeep. JC follows and directs us around to the tailgate. The lake babbles softly, the air is crisp, the sky a cloudless blue but I don’t notice anything but this man I have loved my whole life, holding a pretty little box in his great big hands.

“So.” He clears his throat while gripping the box in one hand. “I’ve wanted to ask this question since that day that I came home and you were setting the table on the patio. I let my mind wander for a second and imagine that you…” He swallows, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

“… that it was you and me, and we were having our friends over for dinner. What we have is what I’ve always wanted with you.  I’ve had about a million chances to ask, but I didn’t feel like the time was right.”

“But… you said this was a last minute thing. What makes the time right, right now?”

He blushes a pretty shade of pink and averts his eyes. There’s a story here, I’m sure of it. “Well...a couple days ago, that punk Tyler texted me that he was proposing to Jade today. Not that I need to beat him to it--”

I chuckle. “We both know you do. You hate when he one-ups you.”

A cheeky grin flashes across his lips. Sheepish, he acknowledges the brotherly competition. “I can’t lose to that kid. But mostly it’s because you shouldn’t have to sit through one more engagement and bridal shower and wedding and honeymoon and not be celebrating your own. You should have been the first one married and because of me, you weren’t. I want to make it right.”

In a smooth motion, JC sinks to one knee, almost slipping in the soggy, muddy grass. He flips open the box, revealing a brilliant diamond set in a gorgeous platinum setting. It’s the kind of ring I’d always drooled over when Morgan and Jackie and Bridget got engaged. My heart is so high in my throat I can hear it beating in my ears.  He had to have asked them for advice, which meant they all know what’s happening right now.

“Uh…so, I think I know what the answer is, but you never know what might happen in the heat of the moment.”

He gives me a conspiratorial wink, and then his face returns to seriousness. “Angie… it’s been a long time coming, a lot of years with a lot of shit between us. I have a lot of regrets but the biggest one is disappointing you and not being the man that you needed me to be. Not back in high school and not in the years since then. I want to make it up to you and that’s why I’m asking if you’ll finally marry me.”

It takes everything in me to hold back a scream. I’m ready to explode.  “Finally,” I squeak.

“Finally,” he repeats.

I inhale the deepest breath possible, then shove it out and let the word ‘Yes’ escape with it. JC’s eyes narrow as he gives me a sidelong glance.

“Was that… a yes?  I’m just making sure I heard right.”

My head bobs and I can’t stop laughing as tears spring to my eyes. “Of course it’s yes. Finally. Yes.”

JC heaves a long sigh and his shoulders relax as if he was afraid I would say no. Before I can change my mind, he plucks the ring from its fancy, velvet lined case and slips it onto my left hand. It’s nearly perfect.

“In a couple of days we’ll go get it sized. You can show off that bad boy for New Year’s.”

“Yeah, that’s totally what I’m thinking about. Get up, come here.” JC stands, suddenly bashful, ducking to avoid me. I grab his face and pull him to me, landing a long and loud smooch. “I love you,” I tell him, staring deep into his eyes. “I always have. I always, always will.”

“Promise? So I can go back to being an asshole?”

“Don’t push it,” I say, trying to scowl.

“Well, now my mom can get off my ass, at least. I uh…” He gestures toward my hand and finishes his sentence softly. “I hope it’s worth the wait.”

With one arm still around his neck, I hold my left hand aloft and stare at the sparkling gem on my finger. I’m already used to its presence. “It’s perfect, baby. Just perfect.”

From a distance, I hear noises, what sounds like clapping and cheering but from far, far away. I whip around and notice a small crowd standing on JC’s patio. “Oh my— hey!” I wave at them and the group waves back.  I hear Keith’s ear piercing whistle from all the way across the lake. I turn back around and grin at JC.

He looks more satisfied than smug. And, if I may say, entirely less tense. He wraps both arms around me and pulls me to him, dipping his head toward me. I rise up onto my toes and meet his lips with a playful kiss that turns sultry and heated in an instant. My knees go weak and I wilt against him. He tightens his grip and any thought of moving from the spot we’re standing fly out of my head. I’m warm and getting warmer as the kiss grows slower and deeper.

Way earlier than I’m ready for him to do so, JC groans and pulls back, glancing up at the sound of more cheers from the gang on his patio. He shakes his head and returns his attention to me. “They all wanted to be here for this momentous occasion that no one thought would actually come. I said they could watch.” He nods his head toward them. “From over there.”

“You put a lot of effort into this. Thank you.”

He shrugs. “Now we can relax and celebrate our first Christmas back together. How about we go home, future Mrs. Evangeline Chasez?”

I smile. Even though he’s using my full name, which I hate, it somehow sounds amazing next to his. I already love it.  “Sounds good to me, future husband.”

We climb back into the Jeep after packing up our makeshift breakfast and lifting the seat back into position. “Too bad we didn’t have time for sex. That would have been nostalgic. Icing on the cake.”

I slam the rear door and get into the front seat next to him, pulling the seat belt across my lap. “Honestly… that was cool for high school but after two years of fucking in the backseat of your Jeep, I so prefer sex with you in a bed.”

“We can do that.”

JC starts the Jeep and begins to pull back onto the road, hanging a left at the highway.

“Whose rig is this, by the way?”

“A friend of Keith’s. He dropped it by this morning. Along with breakfast.” He glances over at me with a silly grin. “I thought about trying to cook but burnt toast isn’t romantic.”

I giggle, turning my attention to the scenery outside of the plastic window. If someone had told me six months ago that I’d be engaged to that asshole JC Chasez, I’d have slapped the words out of their mouth. Now I’m wearing his ring. And we’re on our way home. To our house.

Life comes at you fast.  

“What are you smiling at?” JC asks. I must be subconsciously beaming. I feel like I could glow in the dark.

I pop back to attention and reach over to tap his knee, still wet and muddy. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“About how payback is a bitch. I’m already concocting ways to torture Morgan with my wedding plans.”

“It’s all her fault, you know? That we’re back together. She just couldn’t let it go.”

The memories—the arguments, frustrations, how much I had to bite my tongue just to get along with JC for her sake—come rushing back to me.  “Her stupid plan worked, huh?”

“I knew it would.”

“Oh, you did not.”

“Did so. When Morgan made you come to me, groveling, begging me to help you plan that wedding.” He snickers, making a teeth sucking sound. “I knew it.”

I stare at him, incredulous. How can he say that, when… “But… you agreed that we’d never see each other again after the wedding.”

JC is quiet for a few seconds, gripping the top of the steering wheel as we barrel down the street. “Just meant I had my work cut out for me. I had four months to make you mine.”

I know, from my own recollection, that I did not make it easy on him. But maybe that’s why being back together with him means so much to me. He fought through every barrier I put up. Long after he should have given up, he was still there.

I reach across the console of the Jeep, find his hand and interlock my fingers between his. He squeezes, and I squeeze back.   

He turn onto our street. In a few moments we are back home, the driveway full of the cars of our friends who have given up their Christmas morning to celebrate our engagement with us.

Us. The two people no one ever thought would get back together are actually engaged.

JC cuts the engine but doesn’t get out of the Jeep. We sit, holding hands, savoring the moment. Finally, I give JC’s hand a squeeze and nod toward the house.

“Suppose we should go in. Say hi to people. Get Christmas going.”

“Yeah,” he answers. But doesn’t move.

“You okay?” He nods. He’s staring at me, those baby blues boring a hole right through me. “Just realized I never said Merry Christmas.”

I wiggle my finger at him, the one bearing the rock that he’d just slipped on. “Yeah, you did.”

“No, I didn’t,” he says softly, shaking his head. “Merry Christmas, Angie.  I’ve never been happier than I am right now. Thanks for that.”

I bat my eyes, blinking away tears. No tears today, happy or otherwise, I tell myself. “Merry Christmas, baby. You’ve made me very, very happy.”

We lean in, meeting over the gearshift and get in one last smooch before the front door opens and a gaggle of people spill out. JC pretends to be irritated. “We just can’t get rid of these people, can we?”

I laugh, both at him and the small crowd surrounding the car, tapping on the hood and lightly beating on the windows. I feel like if we don’t get out, they might flip it over.

“It would be a waste of time to try. Shall we?”

We escape from the Jeep and, hand in hand, walk into our house as an engaged couple for the first time.

It’s the start of the most amazing Christmas I’ve had in a very long time.