“You’re gonna freeze to death,” I protest. It has to be in the upper teens today. The sun makes it feel warmer, but not by much.
“I’ll be fine,” he says as he chops at the trunk again. “I was getting hot.”
He certainly is. The muscles of his back are stretching his black thermal long-sleeve shirt, and I suddenly feel flushed myself. I blame it on the hot chocolate, not the view in front of me. Alex’s broad shoulders and well-toned arms are usually hiding under dress shirts, but now they’re bulging with each swing of the ax.
Since the tree is small, it doesn’t take long for it to fall to the ground. He looks up at me with a grin. “Timber.” Alex stands and brushes the snow off his knees, then grabs the twine to wrap up the tree.
“Can I help?” I’m feeling guilty about standing here enjoying the view while he’s performing all the physical labor. “We’re here because of me, but you’re doing everything.”
“I’m good,” he says, glancing up at me. “Are you warm enough? You still look cold.”
“I’m okay.” I take another sip of my drink which has already cooled off. “You look like you know what you’re doing there.” He’s already almost finished wrapping up the tree.
“I used to work here,” he says.
“What?” I ask in surprise. “Here?”
“Yep, for a couple of years in high school. I got pretty good at both chopping down trees and wrapping them up.”
“I’m in the presence of a pro,” I tease him. “I should have been taking notes.”
“Next time,” he says lightly, then seems to realize what he said, and he looks down quickly.
Next time. The words lodge in my chest—a reminder this is my once-in-a-lifetime Christmas. I need to soak in every moment.
And ignore the twist in my heart that there won’t be a next time.
He ties off his last string, then tosses the twine into the wagon. Picking up the tree, he leans it over his shoulder, then grabs the handle of the wagon. “Let’s go pay for it.”
“I can pull the wagon,” I protest.
“I’ve got it.”
I fall into step beside him, trying to memorize the moment before it turns into a memory.
The wind hits us head-on as we walk to the gift shop. Alex props the tree against the side of the building, and we both go inside to pay. The woman at the counter recognizes him and asks what he’s been up to. He tells her he’s living in Atlanta and home for the week.
I browse the items they have for sale, giving him some privacy, when he surprises me by introducing me as his girlfriend. He stretches out his arm for me to join him.
I walk over next to him, trying not to trip over my own feet.
“Hi,” I say, feeling uncharacteristically shy, reminding myself he only introduced me because if his family finds out he didn’t, they’ll ask why.
The woman gives me an appraising glance, then nods approvingly. “You did good, Alex.”
He wraps an arm around my back and smiles down at me, soft and proud. “I know, right?”
My heart flutters.
Not real. Not real.
But I can pretend, right?
His hand brushes my lower back as he reaches for his wallet to pay, and for a second I forget how to breathe. By the time he’s finished paying, I’ve pasted on a smile and convinced myself it’s just part of the act.
After we walk out, we head to the Wagoneer. The tree’s small enough that it fits in the back. Once we get in the car, Alex turns on the engine to warm it up. I take off my mittens to pour a fresh cup of hot chocolate and hand it to him.
When his fingers brush mine, he frowns. “Your fingers are freezing.”
