He had visited her every Wednesday for three months, but this Wednesday felt like the most important one. He was more nervous then when he had asked her about Eastwood in Pink Cadillac. He was more nervous then when he'd unfolded the note he'd spent so long perfecting.

It shouldn't matter that this was Christmas. Most years it was the same as any other day for Lassiter, true he did arrest more drunks on Christmas, but that was hardly an occasion for celebration.

He toyed with the box in his hands. It was wrapped in red paper and a gold bow was tied in the center. He almost wished for a second that he had gone with the earrings that he had liked at the jewellery store, but he wanted something that Marlowe could have now while they were waiting for the six to eighteen months. O'Hara had helped him pick out the wrapping paper. He turned it over in his hands and then slowly sat down in the chair on the other side of the glass.

Marlowe walked through the door. She was all smiles when she saw him. Lassiter couldn't help but grin back. The excitement was contagious.

"Hi, Carlton," she said as soon as he picked up the phone.

"Merry Christmas," he smiled back. "I brought you something."

She nodded, "I see that."

"Do you want to wait and open it after it goes through the guards or do you want me to open it now?" Lassiter asked.

"You open it now, I want you to be here." She was leaning forward so far that her nose was almost touching the glass.

Lassiter smiled more and gently slipped the bow off of the package. "It's not fancy," he warned her as he broke through the tape.

"I don't care," she said. "Now open it!"

"Impatient?" He raised an eyebrow at her, teasing. He pulled the box out of the paper and lifted the lid off the box.

"What is it?" Marlowe couldn't see inside of the box when he had it tilted towards himself.

Lassiter showed her the plain leather bonded journal that he had picked out. "I thought you could use this while we wait," he explained.

Marlowe frowned in confusion. "Carlton, I already keep a journal."

"No, this isn't for you to write in." Lassiter slowly let out a breath. "This one is for you to read. I wrote in it for you." He flipped open the front cover to show her. "I wrote it in everyday this month and I almost had to buy another one."

"What did you write in it?"

"I told you how my day was, how frustrated I was with a case. I wrote about how crazy Spencer's antics were." He paused and met her eyes. "About how much I miss you when I have to go home at night and the house is empty."

"Carlton," she whispered.

"Some of it is probably boring, and I think four pages are dedicated to how I want a new gun." Lassiter backtracked on his description of the book. "But it's me, and you can have it everyday instead of just on Wednesdays."

"It won't be boring, because it's you." Marlowe assured him. She sighed and put her hand on the glass. "Merry Christmas, Carlton."

Lassiter put his hand against hers. "Merry Christmas,"

"See you on Wednesday,"

"Wednesday."