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It happened every year since you had met him. You were invited by his family to a Christmas party, and you spent the night before with him, scrambling to get all of the gifts wrapped up. You enjoyed these moments with him -- he was usually so busy with his work at Gressenheller University, often spending more time with his students than with you.
You were understanding, however, knowing that he couldn’t help it. His life was consumed with his archaeology research, and he loved it. He loved to teach and to solve the riddles that discoveries presented to him.
But tonight you had your boyfriend all to yourself. He was gathering the presents while you hunted down the wrapping paper that had been long sitting in the back of the closet. You also had an eye on the ribbons and bows -- the more color, the better.
“Hershel!” you called. “Are we meeting in the living room for this?”
“Yes!” he replied from down the hall. “If you would meet me there, that would be wonderful. I’ll be with you shortly.”
With your arms filled with your wrapping tools, you hobbled to the living room, dropping everything as you plopped onto the couch. He had a large family, and while not everyone was a blood relative, you could see why the Laytons were so popular. They were warm and kind, and they made you feel like you were a part of the family, including you in all of their conversations and activities.
It was no wonder why Hershel had so many gifts to give.
“I’m so glad that I have you around,” he said as he set his large stack of gifts on the coffee table. “I’m afraid I have no artistic touch, so these gifts would look rather haphazard if not for your care.”
You laughed. “Well, you’re the brains around here, so an artistic touch doesn’t do much for you from a practical perspective, does it?”
“No, I suppose not, but I do envy your eye for aesthetics.”
“What would you like to start with first?” you asked.
He looked toward one of the more colorful boxes. “This is a gifts of building blocks that I purchased for the neighbor’s son. He’s a bright boy, and I’m hoping he’ll enjoy these as much as I enjoyed blocks as a child.”
“I’m sure he’ll love them,” you said, reaching out for the box. You placed it in the center of the unrolled wrapping paper, roughly measuring out how much you would need for this particular package. “Tape, please.”
Hershel worked with you, assisting you as the provider of tape as you easily finished with all of the presents.
“There we go!” you said as you stacked the gifts atop one another in two, neat columns. “We’re all set for tomorrow, aren’t we?”
He nodded. “Yes. Well, I’m afraid your gifts won’t be as prettily wrapped as these.”
“Not like it matters. It’s what’s inside the gift that actually counts, and whatever it is, I’m sure I’ll love it.”
“I certainly hope so.”
A mischievous thought then crossed your mind. “What did you get for me this year?”
“You should know better than to ask.”
“It usually doesn’t hurt. Besides, you’re the one who says to always be asking questions.”
He appeared to be pensive, posing in his usual philosophical state. “Yes, well, I suppose I do say that.”
You leaned in and kissed him on the cheek. “You say a lot of things. I suppose an archaeology professor should enjoy talking. Either way, I’m going to find this gift; I know you like riddles, so you probably have it hidden somewhere for me.”
“You couldn’t find it last year.”
“No, I couldn’t,” you agreed. “But this year it’s going to be different.”
“Or the year before.”
“You’re just taunting me now.”
“Me? No. I am a gentleman.”
“Hershel, you’re ridiculous.”
“A ridiculous gentleman, then.”
You laughed. “Fine. Have it your way. I will find that present before Christmas. This year, I won’t lose.”
“May I remind you that Christmas is tomorrow?” He looked at his watch. “In four hours, no less.”
You scoured the apartment that night, looking at every corner, under every cushion, and within every drawer. This place you shared was not particularly large, so where could he have hidden it? You checked the curtains, the piano, even the neatly folded sheets; you ducked into the washer and dryer, even going as rummaging through the refrigerator.
With a sigh, you plopped into bed. You only had about five minutes before midnight, and you had nearly given up. It wasn’t that you were admitting defeat, but you had nowhere else to search. The gift had to be in the apartment and not at his office because Christmas was tomorrow.
“Giving up?” Hershel asked as he looked up from his book.
“Never,” you said. “I’ll go down fighting.”
He smiled at you. “You know, _____, I’ve always loved that about you. You’re spunky, and you have a determined look about you. Always striving ahead with your feet on the path and your eyes on everything else.”
“You’re just distracting me. I only have a few minutes, and I’m thinking hard.”
“Oh? Please continue.”
You thought about everywhere you had searched, and finally you turned toward your boyfriend, plucking the book he was reading out of his hands. “Wuthering Heights? Really, Hershel? You’ve always hated this book.”
He shrugged, a neutral expression on his face.
You were so proud of yourself -- why would he be reading something he loathed? Besides, if he were to hide a gift in a book, he would surely be more willing to destroy a copy of what he disliked than what he enjoyed. You opened the book, only the find that a square had been cut out of its pages in the very center. Upon closer inspection, you recognized its contents. It was a small box, one covered in soft velvet with smooth edges and a silver hinge.
“Hershel…” you started, unsure of what to say.
He gently took the book from you and removed the box, opening it to reveal a beautiful ring. “It’s 11:58, _____. Looks like you’ve won this year -- we’ll celebrate at our wedding. Will you marry me?”
You could only answer him with a kiss.