25. Jolijah – Scarf
It was a little lumpy in places with a dropped stitch here and there. But none of that mattered, John thought as he admired the handiwork with a lopsided smile.
"It's beautiful," he said.
Elijah's grin was worth the half-lie. His freckled face lit up like the Christmas tree and his cheeks turned nearly as a red as his hair.
"You don't have to wear it," he said. "Like, I know you're not going to be wearing a woolly scarf on a tropical island anyway, but if you ever need a scarf, you can totally choose another one because –"
John silenced the babble with a kiss and pulled Elijah in for a squeeze.
"Of course I'll wear it," he said.
Then he pulled back and wrapped the scarf around his neck. The wool was soft and it smelled like Elijah – laundry detergent and Redwood cologne.
"I just thought you might like something, I dunno, handmade and thoughtful?" Elijah looked away, green eyes flicking from side to side. "Like, what do you get the man who has everything?"
John unwound one end of the scarf and pulled Elijah into another embrace. He wound the scarf around them both and planted another kiss on the other man's lips. Elijah still had his ginger stubble and his breath smelled of coffee.
"I love it," John says.
That was not a lie. It might not have been the prettiest scarf in the world – but it was the only one that was been made just for John.
"Daddy! Dadaí!"
The two men were hit full-force by the whirlwind that is Lyra Tracy. Five years old with long blonde braids flying, she'd been up for three hours already – and was very impressed with the junior scientist kit that 'Santa' brought (she knew he wasn't real but understood the need to keep up the pretence for Adam's sake). Her IQ was beyond anything a five year old should have had. Sometimes it was easy to forget how young she really was.
"Hey, little lady!"
John pulled her into the embrace and smiled as she pressed her face into the scarf.
"Daddy, do you like it?" she asked, her eyes bright as stars. "I helped Dadai choose the colours. Look!"
She plucked up one end of the scarf and started to explain her sound reasoning – concise and logical. That was Lyra all over.
"Dark blue for the sky where you live sometimes. Green for Dadai because it's the colour of his home. And purple for me!"
"Why purple?" John asked, even though he knew the answer.
"Because purple is my favourite!" Lyra said, puffing up with pride.
John chuckled and caught Elijah's eye. In that moment, sitting on the floor of their apartment in the Cliff House, with the fairy lights twinkling as the sun begins to rise, he felt more at home than ever before. He had got a family of his own now.
And then his heart skipped a little. Because there was another gift to be given. A kind of gift he had never given before.
"Lyra," John asked, "could you do me a favour? Will you get the package for Dadai from me? It's underneath the rest of the presents."
"Okay!"
And off she went and John was certain she would come back with the right box. Because, five or not, she could already read fluently in English and French – and she was rapidly getting there in Irish and Malay, too.
Reluctantly, John unwound the scarf but kept it draped around his shoulders. Lyra returned within thirty second with the package. When Elijah saw it, his face went pale.
"Lyra, c'mere," John says.
With a grin as wide as the Golden Gate Bridge, the little girl clambered into John's lap. Because she knew what was about to happen. In fact, it was partly her idea.
It was a small box – so small that there was no huge surprise about what it contained. But Elijah hadn't seen it before, hidden deep within the mound of gifts under the fake fir.
"Elijah," John said, the box resting on the palm of one hand. "We've been together for nearly five years now and it's been the best five years of my life. In spite of everything that happened in the past, in spite of all the pain, you've stuck with me through it all. You mean more to me than I ever thought was possible. You, me and Lyra have become a little family."
On cue, Lyra grinned again. Elijah visibly swallowed.
"And, well, I thought that it was time we made it official. Please, open it."
With trembling hands, Elijah lifted the box. He unwound the shimmering blue paper with excruciating slowness. Then, he flipped open the velvet lid and his eyes threatened to spill over.
"Is this what I think it is?" he asked.
"Yes," John says, his voice thickening with emotion. "Elijah Patrick Peter Lynch, will you marry me?"
"Will you, Dadai? Will you?"
Elijah swallowed again as he plucked up the ring. The platinum band shone blue and green and purple in the fairy lights.
"There's a matching one," John said. "And another on a necklace for a certain someone. Because we're all in this together."
"Oh, lord," Elijah whispered. Then he looked up, his eyes bright. "Of course I'll marry you, John Eugene Tracy. Of course I will."