Page 61 of Once Upon A Christmas Song

Since I had his attention, he startled when he found both kids standing in front of him, staring.

“You two are freaking me out.”

“Would you teach me how to play the guitar too?” Henry asked.

Dawson’s eyes flicked to mine.

I only smiled.

“In for a penny,” he murmured.

I put my fingers on my temples. “I see you teaching small children how to hold chords during the winter break.”

“As long as you’re there with me, I’ve got no issues with that.”

“Wait, when did I get roped in?”

“Now,” he teased me as the kids ran to the kitchen to start getting their drinks ready. “We’re gonna be bound at the hip.”

And that didn’t sound too bad.

Later, after Georgine and Seth got back, her gushing about all the networking she’d done at the gala, Seth saying the same—everyone needed accounting help—Georgine sent us on our way. She needed some alone time with her date. They had things to discuss.

As we started walking, Dawson said, “I’d love to show you my new place.”

“I’ve already seen Simone’s loft a hundred times.”

“Then we’ll walk to your apartment,” he offered.

“I’m not ready to have you in my apartment.”

“Yes, you are,” he insisted, taking my hand. “Doesn’t this remind you of the epic three-hour stroll we took the night we met?”

“I refuse to walk down memory lane with you.”

“Why not? It was right around Christmas as well, don’t you remember?”

“Of course I remember.”

“You were buying that really ugly tree because you felt sorry for it.”

“I think you’re remembering things that⁠—”

“I’m gonna sing Christmas songs for you every night in the set because you love them all so much.”

I looked away because that was one of those secrets that only the man who had slept in my bed, next to my Christmas tree, and had crooned songs to me in the middle of the night would know.

“Hey,” he rumbled, stopping our walk, which I could tell was heading toward Royal Street, where I lived. “Look at me.”

It took me a moment because I had to wipe away stupid tears before I could.

“Oh, honey, why the tears?”

“I just…” It was hard to form the words.

“I’m gonna walk you home, and that’s all. I promise. That’s what friends do. No pressure, no expectations, just you and me.”

The problem was, I didn’t want us to be friends. Or, I did, just not only friends. It was so hard not to touch him, not to put my arm around him. All I wanted was to be close to him.