"You okay?"
I nod. "More than."
He leans down and kisses my forehead, then heads toward the storage room.
"Be right back."
When he returns, he’s holding a dusty plastic container.
"Didn’t keep much. Threw most of it away after... well. These are the ones that mattered."
He opens the box and inside are old ornaments, a tangled strand of lights, bits of tinsel, and a few delicate pieces that look handmade. Worn but beautiful.
"These were my mom’s. Some of them go back to when Evan and I were kids."
My throat tightens. "You kept them all this time?"
"Yeah. Couldn’t bring myself to toss these."
We spend the next hour decorating the tree. He lets me do most of it, passing me the ornaments one by one.
Some are mismatched. Others are faded. But when we’re done, the tree looks perfect.
Like it belongs here.
Like I do.
I make cocoa, using the last of my stash, and we curl up on the rug, sipping from mismatched mugs and munching on what’s left of the cookies.
He watches me over the rim of his mug. "This is the first Christmas in years that feels like something."
"Good something or bad something?"
He reaches over and tugs me closer. "The best kind."
My heart does a slow, warm somersault.
Later, while I clean up our mugs in the kitchen, he pulls out two steaks and starts seasoning them like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
"I thought I’d cook for you," he says.
"You cook now?"
He smirks. "I do more than chop wood and grunt."
"Debatable."
He comes behind me, wraps his arms around my waist, his chin resting on my shoulder.
"You’re mine now, Nikki. I meant it last night."
I go still.
His voice is low. Possessive. Certain.
"You don’t have to go back. You can work from here. Or not work at all. I make more than enough."
It should feel too much. Too fast.
