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“Here,” Chris said. “Careful, it’s hot.”
“Thanks.” Jill accepted the steaming mug gratefully. She took a tentative sip, the sweet, creamy taste of warm eggnog spiced with vanilla, cinnamon and a splash of whiskey exploding on her tongue.
“It’s good,” she told him, nodding her approval.
“Of course it is,” he said, settling onto the couch beside her and draping his arm over her shoulders with a grin. “I poured it from the carton and heated it up myself.”
Jill rolled her eyes at him, smiling. She shifted closer to rest her head against his chest, nursing her drink between both hands. Across the room, the lights on the tree blinked and twinkled like bright, multi-coloured stars while Christmas music played at low volume in the background from the stereo.
It had taken her, Chris and Claire most of the afternoon to set up and decorate the real, 7-foot Christmas tree that now dominated the living room—with Chris and Claire bickering the whole time over which ornament should go where—but she had to admit the end result was worth it. And it was hard to beat the scent of fresh pine tree.
She took another sip of her eggnog and snuggled nearer to Chris, feeling warmth and something close to contentment spread through her…followed by an unexpected surge of guilt. It didn’t seem fair for her to be this happy, to be sitting here on Christmas Eve drinking eggnog next to a good man who loved her. Not after the terrible things she’d done. True, she hadn’t been in control of her actions at the time—she’d been nothing but a puppet, a tool for executing Wesker’s orders—but it didn’t change the fact it was her hands that had caused so much suffering. Not to mention that without the T-virus antibodies in her blood, Wesker never would have been able to perfect Uroboros.
How many deaths were on her hands? How many lives had been ruined because of her split second decision to throw herself out a window to save her partner?
Jill lowered her mug, the eggnog she’d already swallowed curdling in her belly. Alert as always to any change in her mood these days, Chris glanced at her.
“Something wrong?”
“No,” she reassured him, flashing him a quick smile so he wouldn’t worry. “Everything’s fine.”
“Hmm.” He sounded unconvinced. She could feel him watching her and forced herself to take another sip of eggnog, even though it made her stomach churn.
The song that had been playing ended and the first notes of “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” started. Chris surprised her by standing up abruptly. He took the mug from her and set it on the table beside the couch, then held out his hand.
“Come on,” he said. “Dance with me.”
“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous.” Jill shook her head, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet.
“Chris, stop it,” she protested, half-laughing as he tugged her into the middle of the room. “You know I can’t dance.”
“Sure you can,” he said. He put his hand on her waist and guided her towards him, until their bodies were almost touching. Elvis Presley crooned about snow and mistletoe and presents under the tree as he began to lead her in a slow dance. “There, see?”
Jill could only shake her head at him again, but she could feel herself smiling. The dark cloud that had descended on what was supposed to be a special evening—the first Christmas since her rescue from Africa—began to lift as he smiled back, spinning them slowly in a circle.
Chris hummed along softly with the music as they swayed together, occasionally singing a line out loud. He had a nice voice. Not a remarkable one, but soothing to listen to.
Jill moved closer and leaned her head on his shoulder, closing her eyes. He rested his cheek against her hair, slowing down even more until they were barely moving. Eventually the song came to an end, but they continued to sway together gently in the silence that followed.
“Hey, Jill?” he said quietly.
“Mmm?” she replied without opening her eyes.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
Something in his voice—a brief hesitation, like he was nervous—caught her attention, bringing her back to reality.
She lifted her head, looking at him curiously. “What is it?”
His body tensed and he swallowed audibly. Dropping his arms, he took a step back.
“I know we agreed we weren’t going to do gifts this year, but…” He reached into the front pocket of his jeans and pulled out a small velvet box. Jill’s heart skipped a beat and her mouth went dry. She watched with wide eyes as he opened the box to reveal a simple but elegant blue sapphire and diamond ring.
“Chris,” she breathed, lifting her gaze to stare at him, mouth open. He was looking at her with an earnest expression and his eyes were serious.
“I should have done this years ago,” he said. “I hope you can forgive me for making you wait so long.” Jill’s heart began to race as he went down on one knee. He held out the ring, his eyes never leaving hers.
“Jill Valentine…will you marry me?”
His features grew blurry as her vision filled with tears. For a moment she was too overwhelmed to say anything. All she could do was stare at him while he waited patiently, looking up at her with love and hope written all over his face.
She opened her mouth to speak, ready to say “Yes, of course I’ll marry you,” but what came out was: “You really do know how to keep a girl waiting.”
Chris laughed. “I’ll take that as a ‘yes’,” he said.
“Yes, yes, a thousand times yes,” she told him, laughing through the tears of joy that poured freely down her cheeks now. The huge smile that spread across his face in response was brighter than the sun.
Carefully, he slid the ring onto her finger with hands that shook slightly. Jill held it up, admiring the way the stones sparkled in the light.
“It fits perfectly,” she said, surprised.
“It should,” he chuckled. “I measured your finger while you were asleep.”
Jill laughed as he rose to his feet and swept her into a crushing embrace, kissing her fiercely. She wound her arms around his neck, kissing him back.
“You know the BSAA will never let us go on missions together again once they find out about this,” she told him when they finally broke apart, both smiling and breathless.
“As if we’d let that stop us,” Chris said. “We’re partners. Nothing’s ever going to change that. Besides,” he shrugged. “If they don’t like it, we can always leave and start our own counter-bioterrorism organisation. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”
“True.” Jill’s lips twitched. She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair affectionately, then cradled the back of his neck.
“Partners,” she said. It was both a question and a statement.
“Partners,” he confirmed, with a nod. He took her left hand and raised it to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles next to her engagement ring. He lowered her hand and glanced at his watch. “Hey, it’s after midnight, which means it’s officially Christmas.”
“You’re right.” Jill looked at the clock on the wall in surprise. “It is.” Cupping his face in her hands, she leaned up to brush her lips against his.
“Merry Christmas, Chris.”
“Merry Christmas, Jill.”