As I place my hand on Donna's back, she turns and smiles at me. It's like the sun coming out. Christmas music isn't really my thing but I'll happily endure it just to spend some time with Donna.

A few minutes into the singing, I find I'm totally enjoying myself. Not because the carolers are fantastic, in fact, they're actually a little fussy, but because I love watching Donna listen to them. She's totally into it. She loves all things Christmas.

I wonder what celebrating Christmas with her would be like? Not just a quick gift exchange, like we usually do. But really diving in, helping her pick out and decorate a tree, maybe going to a midnight service on Christmas Eve, and then actually waking up together on Christmas morning. Snuggling together on the couch, with coffee, in front of the fire, watching the snow fall outside. Watching our kids run down the stairs, seeing their faces light up when they see the stockings and gifts.

I've never cared about Christmas before, but yeah, maybe I could get into it.

The one Christmas I spent with Donna was the worst. Really, I've analyzed it quite a bit in therapy. I felt both horrified that she knew what I'd done to myself, and relieved that she hadn't run away. In fact, she'd done the opposite. She'd canceled her flight home, taken me to the doctor, made sure my window was fixed, tucked me into bed, and slept on my couch to watch over me.

She'd given up time with her family and all the trappings of Christmas, to stay in a cold, bland bachelor pad, with her slightly crazy boss.

I didn't realize it at the time, but looking back, I can't help but think that it was probably a pretty good sign that she loves me. There's been a lot of water under the bridge since then. For most Christmases, she went back to Wisconsin. But the last one, she spent at the Washington Inn.

Okay, that one was actually the worst. Because by Christmas last year, I had figured out that I love her, but I was too chicken to tell her. Thank god, Jack is long gone. And maybe, hopefully, somehow, I think she might still love me.

It's taken me a year, but I've finally gotten up the nerve to find out. I really think my present will show her how much I love her, and possibly prove that I'm sane. And maybe, if things go how I hope, we might start spending all our Christmases together.

As the music ends and everyone disperses, I steer Donna back towards the Bullpen. Although I'm not chicken anymore, this isn't quite the time for declarations. But this is a good time for dinner.

"I'm hungry. We should get pizza."

Donna wrinkles her nose adorably and counter-offers. "Thai?"

"Too spicy."

"You're a big baby. You know that, right?"

"We could get burgers. There's that new place. It only sells burgers and fries."

"Chinese?"

"That sounds an awful lot like Thai. . . "

She gives me the pout, and I know I'm done for.

"Fine. Chinese. The usual."

She grins as we arrive back at her desk. "I'll order. You go back in there and see if you can accomplish something while we wait. I'd really like to be out of here by 10pm tonight." She points me to my office and tries to sound stern.

"Yes, dear."

She rolls her eyes, but as I turn to go, she picks up the phone and dials. After I walk through my door, I pause and lean back out and watch her with a satisfied smile. I might not be getting exactly what I wanted for dinner, but that doesn't matter, because I get to eat it with Donnatella Moss.

As she hangs up, I hurry over to my desk. I'd better get something done. I have my instructions and I don't want to disappoint her.