Page 30 of Santa Baby

“Of course.” He furrowed his brows. “Do you like your job? Being a photographer?”

I wasn’t going to mention that I had nothing lined up this week at all and would likely be sitting around, twiddling my thumbs. “I do. I’m not a huge fan of shooting weddings but it keeps the lights on.”

The conversation started to die again and I felt incredibly awkward as I sipped my coffee. Kissing him wasn’t a good idea. Now this felt complicated and that awkward tension shined between every word that left my mouth.

Mason took a sip of his coffee before setting it down, tilting his head toward the Christmas tree. “What does your family do for Christmas?”

Finally, something I could talk about without clamming up. “Well, the regular stuff. I usually spend the night on Christmas Eve and stay with my parents all day on Christmas Day. We open presents, and Dad likes to watch a movie together, and Mom makes a big breakfast and an even bigger dinner. Dad and Colin usually fight during dinner about something.”

“They fight?”

I waved my hand in dismissal. “My family is Italian, at least on my mom’s side. It’s not really fighting really, just talking really loud over each other.”

“Oh,” he said with a chuckle. “Yeah, I can see Colin doing that.”

I started getting a little excited as I continued. “It’s nothing compared to Christmas Eve during the Feast of Seven Fishes. My uncles and aunts come over and there’s a huge feast, and it’s always blindingly loud.” I went on to explain the Feast of Seven fishes at length, and Mason was rapt, nodding along and smiling. I also told him a story about taking my nonna to the midnight mass and we caught my younger cousins sneaking out to participate in illegal activities.

“She whooped them right there in the street, on Christmas Eve no less.”

“It sounds like they deserved it.” He laughed, his expression softening from the tight tension of before.

“What about you?” I asked.

He shrugged, and some of the light faded from his eyes, which instantly gutted me. “I don’t have a large family like you do. The holidays are pretty quiet. My parents have dinner on Christmas Eve, usually with some extended family and friends from work but that’s really it.”

“What do you do on Christmas Day?”

“Well, this year I’m supposed to be proposing to you.”

“That’s on New Year’s Eve, remember?” I couldn’t ignore the fact that my heart skipped a beat. I clutched my coffee mug for dear life as his eyes met mine, heavy with that new, unreadable emotion.

“It would be a waste of your favorite holiday to propose to you any other time than Christmas.”

This wasn’t real. I kept reminding myself that, but now I was unsure if that was how it really felt. Was the character I’d been playing only a character after all?

“You’re right. I don’t like New Year’s nearly as much as Christmas.”

He nodded, running his tongue along his lower lip as his eyes dropped to his coffee mug. “Would you come with me to my parents’ dinner on Christmas Eve? It’s late, closer to eight. You’d still be able to be with your family, too. You’d only have to make an appearance at my parents’ place⁠—”

I cut him off. “Only if you come to my family’s dinner on Christmas Eve too, if you think you can handle it.”

No. No, we shouldn’t even be considering this because this goes beyond our business arrangement and is now edging on personal.

But he smiled at me, nodding. “Yeah, of course I’ll come.”

“I’ll let my mom know to set an extra place at the table.” I swallowed hard, fighting against the desire to kiss him again, to tell him how I really felt, because I suddenly, desperately needed someone to talk to about it.

But I was standing in my apartment with Mason O’Leary, not some guy who worked for the city or at the restaurant across the street. Mason was out of my league entirely.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asked, meeting my gaze.

I tilted my head to the side. Tomorrow was Sunday, and normally I would rot on the couch with Liv watching trashy TV or walk around the city, running errands I’d put off throughout the week. “I don’t have any plans.”

“I’ll pick you up in the morning. How’s ten?”

“For what?” I laughed, shaking my head.

“I have one Christmas left in my apartment and I’ve never decorated for it. Maybe you could help me with that. If you want, of course. You don’t have to.”