Thank you for checking out the fourth and final chapter of Merry Little Christmas. If you missed Chapter 1 or 3, they're over on Twriter12's page on this site. Read up and then come on back!
Rick splashed some water on his face and tended to a small nick on his jaw.
One would think that with as many advances as they'd made in personal grooming, one could finally give themselves a clean shave without it becoming a blood sport?
...but one would be wrong...apparently. He sighed, inspecting his face.
"Seasoned, huh?" He said aloud to the reflection in the mirror, repeating Michonne's words.
From downstairs he heard the sound of his doorbell ringing. Checking his watch, he winced.
She was right on time, he should have assumed that would be the case.
Dragging his turtleneck sweater over his head and running a hand through his still-wet hair, he took the stairs two at a time in his bare feet.
"Hey!" He said as he pulled the front door open. "Hope I didn't keep you waiting too long out here?"
"Nope, plus it's actually a nice day considering all that rain last night." Michonne opened her arms at her sides as if to illustrate.
Standing like that, with the entirety of the neighborhood framing her, Rick couldn't help but acknowledge it was true. Protected by the hills from the fog that blanketed the rest of the city, for them it was a bright and sunny early-afternoon. Yet he shrugged, glancing at the bare-bones wreath on his door.
"Come in." He moved aside for her. "Merry Christmas!"
Some part of him still couldn't quite believe he'd had the nerve to invite her over last night and that she'd actually agreed to come.
"Merry Christmas to you too," she said as she stepped past him, pointing at his mouth. "What's with the face?"
"What?" He stroked his chin. "Oh, I shaved," he admitted, now self-consciously reconsidering his decision.
Michonne smiled as she removed her coat and placed it over his outstretched arm. "Nope, not that —although very nice— I meant the face. I said, it's a beautiful day and you looked for a second like I kicked your puppy. You have something against beautiful days?"
Rick laughed, delighted by how perceptive she was. "Ahh, I have nothing against a nice day. In fact, it's part of the reason I decided to move here. It's just this time of year, I really do enjoy a white Christmas."
When he turned back to her from the coat rack, Michonne was watching him. He rolled his eyes. "I know, what kind of SoCal guy am I, right?"
"No, not at all." She shook her head, following him through the house before taking an offered seat at his kitchen island. "I think that's sweet. I didn't see real live snow until I was eighteen. But it only took one bad Massachusetts winter season before I was over it."
"Understandable." Rick chuckled, walking over to the island from the refrigerator with a bottle in each hand. "Orange juice or water?"
She pursed her lips, tapping them with an slender finger
"I have tea and coffee too," He offered quickly. "Chamomile, Earl Grey, Dark Roast, Hazelnut?"
"Got any Prosecco?"
"At noon?" He checked the clock above the doorway before nodding.
"Oh definitely." Her voice deepened, her expression conspiratorial, an eyebrow arched.
"Okay, sure." He smiled back. His cheeks were going to get a real workout around this woman. "Mimosas, it is..."
"Thank you for feeding me so well! Now, I'm sad I drove here. I think I'm going to have to walk this off."
A few hours later, they sat next to his Christmas tree, on the big deep couch in his front room. Positioned before a large bay window with views of the skyscrapers of the Embarcadero in the distance and the bay beyond, they sat on opposite ends turned toward each other with one leg propped up on the cushions.
"It was my pleasure. Thank you for being willing to spend your Christmas afternoon with a total stranger."
Michonne lowered the mug of mulled cider into her lap, tilting her head. He'd already discovered he loved when she did that. "I worked for pizza last night. I am hardly a stranger."
Her lips parted into a winning smile and Rick was certain his heart skipped a beat.
"I'm sor—" Rick began but her eyebrow rose. "That's right, we agreed to a moratorium on that word, didn't we?"
She nodded.
"Well, I'm glad that you agreed to my bold offer of Christmas brunch."
Gazing into her beautiful face, it felt like an understatement. Her eyes softened, smiling behind the large clay mug that she sipped from.
"This is a beautiful house, Rick," Michonne commented, cutting short the moment to look around, up at the high ceilings and crown moldings in the big airy room, then over at the massive ornate tree whose evergreen scent perfumed the whole room. "An old Victorian is a lot for a single man to be rattling around in."
"This was my granddad's too. And yeah, it is a lotta house. But my dad was one of five."
"Five? Wow! And your grandpa left you this house and his store? No sense in asking who the favorite grandkid was," Michonne teased.
"Actually, none of the other grandkids were interested in the house. And I had to buy everyone else out. My aunt and uncle out East. An uncle that moved to Norway in the eighties. My Uncle Sully up in Vancouver. Had to pay market rate too."
Michonne whistled, aghast. "Not market rate."
"Yep." He nodded, shrugging. "As executor, my dad drove a hard bargain, like the successful lawyer he is. Wanted to get his sibs a fair valuation."
"He's a tough customer." Michonne swirled the cinnamon stick in her mug, examining the contents.
"Hence why I don't spend my Christmases in Big Bear anym..." He trailed off, distracted as she put the stick to her mouth.
Rick didn't know if he'd ever felt jealous of an inanimate object before, but at that moment, he fervently wished he was that stick. Allowed to be so close to Michonne, touching her lips…
"Rick?"
"Huh?"
Michonne was looking at him, eyes wide, waiting. She smiled as if she knew exactly where his mind had wandered. His face burned and he grimaced, covering it briefly with his hand.
"I'm sorry, I mean I-I apolog— Uh, come again?" Rick wished the couch could just open up and swallow him whole. "Oh God," he muttered.
She laughed that effervescent, raucous outburst he found so enchanting...yet again at his expense.
"I asked what you did. I mean, you're not a toymaker like your grandpa or a lawyer, like your dad, clearly."
Rick took a deep breath, grateful to Michonne for overlooking the past two minutes, since the couch had decided that it wasn't hungry. He cleared his throat.
"But it is because of my granddad, watching him tinker making his toys, the love and attention, the gears and cogs, that I do what I do."
"Which is what?" Michonne asked again, eying him carefully.
"I'm an aerospace engineer."
Michonne's eyes widened; she put her mug down on the coffee table by her knee. "Do you mean to tell me, you're a rocket scientist?"
It was enchanting; she grinned as if he'd just told her he was Santa Claus himself.
"Well, kinda, but I mean that imbues it with a lot more cool points than it actually has."
"I don't know, Rick. I think that's pretty darn cool any way you slice it." She was almost giddy. "Do you work for Space-X?"
"No." He made a face.
"Oh my God," Her eyes grew platter-like. "NASA?"
"Oh no, but that would be cool." He laughed at the thought. Definitely something from his childhood. "Really cool."
"Are you being coy?" She frowned.
"No, my job's okay. I'll admit I love it. I just mean, it's not what people imagine. Most times all I'm doing is writing lines of code and sometimes I'm debugging integrated systems. Usually, I'm giving PowerPoint presentations, not dealing with rockets. Not directly."
"Well, I'm impressed anyway."
"Thank you." Rick rubbed his chin, certain he was still beet red. Suddenly, he wished he hadn't removed the salt and pepper scruff that might have camouflaged that.
"No, thank you, Rick." Michonne sobered. "I'm not big on Christmas. Never have been. I usually use the day to go into the office and get some work done in peace and quiet. But my boss here at this new company frowns on that. So, I was looking at spending the whole holiday alone without my sister and her family. And I realized, I was really not looking forward to that either."
She reached out, taking his hand.
Rick swore his heart was about to take flight. What was happening to him around this woman?
"I appreciate you opening your home, your life, to a complete stranger—"
"Ah-ah-ah, I thought we established, you're no stranger." Rick smiled, covering her hand with his own. "Not anymore."
Michonne smiled at that. "Not anymore."
"I'm so happy to have met you, Michonne," Rick said.
"I'm really glad to have met you too, Rick." She squeezed his fingers then, eyes roaming his face.
"What?"
"You know, you look like a kid when you smile," she informed him with a grin.
"Whatever happened to 'seasoned'?" He asked, taking faux-umbrage.
"I've reassessed." She shrugged.
"Well, I think you're awfully cute too," Rick blurted out, and she giggled.
"But, um, speaking of kids," he deflected, quickly. "What did your niece and nephew think of their presents?"
"Oh, they loved them! Your grandfather was a very gifted man."
"Actually, you picked two of the new things I designed," he admitted.
"Why didn't you say something?"
To his delight, Michonne scooted closer then. Very close.
"I wanted to see what they thought. I'm only in the tinkering phase right now. Nothing I'd put into full production yet. I'm just glad to know they liked their Christmas gifts."
"I get it, market research. Well, please know you made them very happy." She grinned, leaning ever so slightly forward. "...Me too."
Holding her gaze, Rick leaned forward then as well. And the sweet taste of apples, cinnamon, and cloves on her lips filled his mouth. He opened his eyes, pulling back to see Michonne wearing the same dreamy smile he was certain he did.
"Now I only wish I could have found something to give you for Christmas." Her words came to him in a hushed whisper, mouths only inches apart.
He searched her face in wonder, taken with the absolute serendipity that had led to this moment. Shifting even closer on the couch, Rick reached up and softly slid his thumb along her jawline, fingers venturing into the thick veil of her hair. Cupping the back of her head then, he kissed her once more. Savoring the feeling of her lush, warm lips against his.
"Believe me," he pulled back to look into her eyes with a smile. "You have."
MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE! I hope you enjoyed our little holiday treat. Our small gift to this wonderful Richonne community. Wishing you and yours health(!), happiness and the joy of the season.