When she was fifteen, she thought she'd had her life all planned out. By 23, she'd be married to a gorgeous guy from her college who would share her love of art history and they'd open up a little art boutique and spend their lunch hours drinking expensive, yet pretentious sounding coffees and eating croissants. Christmas would be spent in Paris every year, sipping café au lait on the terrace of a beautiful apartment overlooking the Riviera.

She'd really thought she'd had her whole life planned out ahead of her. But then she'd decided, halfway through college, that that wasn't the life she wanted. She wasn't sure if she ever wanted to get married at that point. Her best friend was as liberal as liberal could be, and after a few increasingly liberated decisions such as streaking across the school campus after losing a bet or participating in the school's annual "Dyke March" in support of her best friend, she wasn't sure if the stereotypical white picket fence lifestyle was what she wanted. She spent her Christmases in college back home with her parents. Jane came along every year and her parents started to wonder.

After college, she and Jane lost touch. Jane wanted to explore Europe, but she was content with staying home. Staying home worked in her favor. She got a job as an assistant manager at a local gallery, and while it wasn't the fantasy she'd had in her teen years, she still got to work with the art she loved every single day of her life. She was on bad terms with her family for a while, due to differences in the life they wanted for her, and what she wanted for herself. In the first few years of working there, her Christmases were spent alone in her cheap apartment as she ate frozen dinners and watched Miracle on 34th Street on loop.

One year, it changed. It had to have been almost fourteen years ago at this point, when the bumbling agent walked into the gallery and changed her world. She thought he was cute, and sweet enough, but almost painfully shy. She could work with shy, she'd told herself. A sharpie, a piece of poster board, and a dinner at Donatello's later, Peter Burke was much more than just the awkwardly adorable agent whom she was fairly certain had put a surveillance team on her tail. If it had been anyone else, they would have been slapped with a restraining order. Peter got an invitation to Christmas with her parents and sister instead.

Fourteen years later, Elizabeth smiles as she sits down on the comfy carpeted floor of her living room, patting the spot beside her for Satchmo to join her. She hides the reindeer antlers behind her back until the dog is in front of her, carefully attaching them to his head so he can't shake them off. Satchmo whines at first, but when she offers him a treat, all is forgotten, and he's more than happy to pretend to be Dasher or Dancer or Blitzen. She giggles as he licks her face, and when she hears laughter from behind her, she can't help but smile. She turns a little, noticing Peter standing sleepily in the doorway of the living room, his hair tousled and his eyelids heavy.

"Merry Christmas, hon."