After lunch, Eden and Sierrastart decorating the tree, and Audrey asks if anyone wants to play in the snow that’s started to fall.
“I’ll go,” Ramona says, then turns to where Lexi is unboxing some ornaments. “If that’s okay with you.”
Lexi considers it for a moment before nodding. “Sure,” she says. “Audrey should know her way around, but don’t forget your phone, okay?”
Nick’s fully prepared to endure more badgering as soon asRamona’s gone, but all that happens is Eden saying, “Shockingly down-to-earth for someone who once launched a line of lip glosses that accidentally had lead in them,” and Sierra nodding her agreement. When Nick gives them a horrified look, Eden adds, “During herGretadays. Forever ago.”
“And somehow seems to like you a hell of a lot,” Lexi says, which earns her a groan and a swat with a string of tinsel.
His mother squeezes his shoulder. “I really like her,” Dawn says. “I had no idea what to expect, but she’s a real sweetheart, Nick.”
He can’t stop smiling the rest of the afternoon.
Nick’s in his room wrapping gifts for the kids when Ramona returns, cheeks flushed from the cold, hair stuffed into a beanie. God, she’s cute in her winter gear. He gets to his feet so fast his knees pop, but he can’t resist kissing her.
“How was Audrey?” he asks.
“Oh, I’m obsessed with her. We went and got hot cocoa at a charming little place in town. She’s going to send me her recipe for slow-cooker chili she says is impossible for anyone to screw up. God bless her for thinking I have the patience for a slow cooker.”
“It’s called hope. I’ve heard you lose some of it as you get older.”
Ramona slides onto the love seat next to the bed. “Those snow boots were torture, though,” she says, stripping off her socks and flexing her toes. “Wearing heels onstage all the time really fucked up my feet. I’m supposed to wear these ugly shoes my podiatrist recommended, but, well…”
“They’re ugly.”
“Exactly. I don’t get why he can’t understand that.”
Nick moves to sit next to her on the love seat, motions for herto drape her legs in his lap. Without missing a beat, he reaches for her foot.
“You don’t have to,” she protests. “I swear I wasn’t trying to—”
“I know,” he says. “I want to.”
“My wikiFeet rating is obscenely low.” A wiggle of her toes. “My second toe is longer than the first. And something about my arches.”
He peers closer as his fingers rub along her skin. “Yeah, I can see what they mean.”
“You asshole.” She goes to kick him, but he catches her ankle.
“Ten out of ten,” he says, kissing along her anklebone, up to her calf. Then he returns to massaging her feet, and she sighs into the feel of his touch.
“That’s really nice,” she murmurs. “Thank you.”
He wants to tell her that if he had the power, he’d soothe anywhere she felt pain. Because it’s not right that she had so much of it in her life before she met him, but the best he can do is ensure she experiences as little of it as possible with him.
Or that whenever she aches, he can be nearby to help her through it.
He swallows it down again, the rising tide of those feelings. The unwieldy shape of his affection for her.
“I’m still not used to it,” he says. “That you can just casually mention something like being on wikiFeet. It feels sort of like you lived a hundred lives before we met.”
“Does it bother you? The age difference?” she asks, and he wonders if she’s thinking about the joke he made last night.
“At first…yes. It made me nervous,” he admits, pressing his thumb into her heel. “I didn’t want to feel like some dirty old man coming on to you.” This makes Ramona groan-laugh.
“I assure you, you’re not.”
“I don’t think about it much anymore, if I’m being honest. What about you?”
