Watching her in the kitchen with my Mom, I almost couldn't help but touch her. It's not the first time I've felt that way. Over the years, my hand has often found its place in the small of her back as we walked, or caressed her arm without me even thinking about it. But now we are the precipice of something, and I'm very aware of my actions. I'm also very aware that Donna didn't shy away from my fingers rubbing her hip. She actually leaned into me and smiled at me. I'm pretty sure she's sending me green light signals! I just hope I'm right.

Once we are seated, Donna passes me the vegetables and I feel two sets of eyes on me as I dig through the bowl before taking a couple of carrots and a pearl onion.

"What? There are mushrooms in there!"

My Mother rolls her eyes, but Donna gives me a fond smile. I guess she's feeling gracious today. Normally, she'd tease me about my child-like eating habits.

"We have to give him a break, Margie, after all, he's only five! We should be glad he took any vegetables at all."

Oh. Well, there's the Donna I know and love.

Dinner is fantastic. The three of us converse easily. This is just comfortable. But as the meal comes to a close, I start to feel little flutters of nervousness. I know she'll like the gift I have for her. But what if she thinks it's too much? What if she doesn't respond the way I want her to?

Mom gets up and starts clearing the table, so I jump up to help her. I want Donna to see that I can be domestic when I want to. Plus the sooner we clean up, the sooner we can get to the gift exchange!

It doesn't take long until the dishwasher is running.

"I'll be back in a minute, why don't the two of you take some coffee into the living room and get comfortable." Mom suggests sending me a sly wink. Sometimes her desire to see Donna and I together is practically palpable, but I'm glad she's keeping herself mostly in check tonight.

When she returns, she finds Donna and I snuggled into the couch. My arm is around her, and she's leaning into me. This isn't the first time we've ended up in this position. In fact, it is how we often end up when we travel together. But today, it just feels like there's more to it.

Mom practically glows in satisfaction as she hands us each a wrapped box. "Happy Hanukkah!" She announces.

I let Donna unwrap hers first. From the shape and size, it's no mystery to me what it contains, although I don't actually know for certain.

"Oh my god!" Donna squeals pulling out a pair of Louboutin pumps. They are so iconic, even I know what they are. I'm so pleased with Mom. Not because she bought Donna an expensive gift, but because what the shoes represent. Mom is telling me in not-so-subtle terms that Donna is part of this family, and that she will love, care for, protect and yes, indulge her, as if she were her own daughter.

"I can't even believe this!" Donna gushes. "You really shouldn't have! But they are perfect. Black patent leather pumps. I can even wear them to work!"

"Oh Donna, I'm an old woman, and I can afford them. I'm glad they make you happy."

Donna gets up and hugs Mom. "Thank you, Marjorie." Then she sits down next to me to watch me open mine.

Of course it's shoes. My Mother buys almost all my shoes. Donna thinks it's sweet. I get up and give my Mom a kiss on the cheek.

"Thanks, Ma." I hand her a package and she unwraps a new biography of Jacqueline Kennedy that she's been wanting.

"Thank you, Joshua. I was hoping to have a new book for the plane ride home."

"I have something for you too." Donna announces a little timidly, then hands one of her packages to Mom, before sitting back down a little uncertainty.

Mom opens the wrapping carefully, smiling at Donna. When she opens the box, she gasps in genuine delight, and I see Donna visibly relax, a small smile playing on her lips.

"Donna! This is beautiful. Did you make this yourself?" Mom pulls out a knit scarf that is various shades of blue. It's gorgeous.

"Yes, I learned how to knit. I've been practicing." Donna answers a bit shyly.

"Joshua. Feel this." Mom demands, so I lean forward and rub it between my fingers. It's so soft. And it's well made. It doesn't seem like it's a beginner's work.

Once again I'm filled with amazement. How did Donna find the time to do this? And the fact that she would spend so much energy making a gift for my Mom. She's incredible.

Mom stands up and motions to Donna for a hug. "Thank you dear. You are an incredibly talented woman and this has been a lovely evening, but I'm feeling rather tired from traveling today. I hope you'll both forgive me if I retire early."

I stand up to give Mom a hug too. I'm sure she's just giving us some privacy for our gift exchange. It's an incredibly sweet gesture. Although it is a bit self-serving. I know she wants grandchildren!

"Good night, Mom. I love you."

"Good night, Joshua. Good night, Donna."

"Good night, Marjorie."

Once Mom has left the room, Donna hands me my present. It's flat, about the size of an 8x10 photo.

"I guess I'm not getting mittens?" I tease her. But she just smiles at me. Her eyes are sparkling.

I rip off the paper and I'm not surprised it's a picture frame. But when I turn it over, I'm stunned.

Inside the matte is a signed Tom Seaver baseball card.

Next to it is a photo of my Dad and I in Mets caps. It was a few weeks before my tenth birthday. We are both grinning at the camera with our matching dimples fully on display. It's one of my Mom's favorite pictures of us.

"Donna. This is amazing. How'd you do this?"

"Well, of course, your Mom helped! I wanted to get someone from your childhood. And I remembered you said that Tom Seaver was the greatest Mets pitcher of all time. After I found the baseball card on ebay, I called your Mom for a photo. She sent me this one and I framed it for you. You like it?"

"Seaver pitched a one-hitter that day. It was incredible. This is perfect. Thank you."

I can't believe how happy this makes me. It's not the gift itself, it's that she took the time to find something that I'd cherish. She's showing me that she cares about my life outside of work, and reminding me that there is more to life than my job. I've been realizing that more and more. God, I love her. And I'm starting to feel more confident that she loves me too. I guess I'm about to find out.

I pick up the present and hand it to her. I hope she understands what I'm trying to do here, although it really is her choice what she does next. I just want this to be perfect.