Page 74 of Santa Baby

She playfully swatted my chest. I took her hand, knitting our fingers.

“I loved watching you take my picture in the distillery. Seeing you focused like that was… I can’t even describe it. You were radiant. Passionate. I’ve never seen that look in your eyes before.”

“Did you—” She cut herself off, hesitating for a moment. “Did you notice that look when you came over the other day, when I was working on preparations for Heather’s party?”

It was an odd question, and her inflection sounded slightly frantic. I thought back, shaking my head. “No. That was different. You’re just a vision behind the lens. That’s what I meant. I could watch you take pictures all day.”

I noticed the way her body slouched and wondered if I hadn’t been imagining things when I’d given her the camera ornament. “Is everything all right, Fia?

“Yeah, I’m just…” She looked up at me, sighing. “Mason, this is technically our last event together.”

“I know.”

“I don’t want it to be,” she said.

“It doesn’t have to be.” I should just tell her. I should tell her I was falling head over heels in love with her with each passing second, and for some reason, a lifetime together didn’t seem like enough time.

“Is this real, between us?”

“I think it’s always been real,” I told her, meaning it. The words came from a place deep in my soul, a place no one else had ever touched. I bent my head, brushing a kiss to her cheek, finding a single tear there. “This is real for me, Fia.”

“Me too,” she whispered, laying her cheek against my chest.

31

FIA

Iadjusted the sparkling, snug red dress I’d chosen to wear tonight, against my better judgment. While the fabric was shiny and shimmered in the light of the massive crystal chandelier hanging over Heather Schuyler’s ballroom, it also liked to slide up my hips, causing the tasteful slit up the right side to edge a little too close to my hips for comfort.

Clutching a glass of sparkling apple juice in lieu of the imported champagne being passed around by waiters wearing green and gold uniforms, I glanced down at my phone again, checking off a list of things I needed to check on before allowing myself to enjoy the party I had painstakingly planned.

Everything was going off without a hitch. It was truly a Christmas miracle.

I moved along the edge of the ballroom, eyeing the refreshment table. The caterers were keeping everything well stocked and organized. Check.

I peeked through a service doorway where a butler’s pantry, which lead from the ballroom to the commercial kitchen, was currently full of waiters pouring fresh flutes of champagne. Check.

The string quartet was wrapping up their contributions to the entertainment while a jazz band prepared their instruments in preparation to change the vibe of the party from polite greetings and mingling over bites of caviar and sips of champagne to something swanky and loud, just like Heather wanted. Check.

“My dear! Are you still triple-checking everything?” Heather’s voice drifted toward me, lifted in her practiced, elite New York City drawl. “Please, go and have a drink. A real one. I can tell that’s juice, you know.”

Wearing a gold gown, she looked like the star atop a Christmas tree, which was exactly the look she’d been going for. In fact, I had my girls at Vivaldi’s put her outfit together. She looked fabulous. Check.

“I’m managing the event, remember?” I teased as she took my juice away and replaced it with bubbly pink champagne.

“And you’ve managed it. Look at this place, darling. I’m not sure how you did it, but this party is going to be talked about for ages, long after I’m dead and buried, I’m positive. You are a talent.” She lightly tapped me on the nose, beaming past her hundred or so units of Botox, and whirled to go gossip with her friends.

I adjusted my dress again, pressing a hand to the flat of my stomach in an attempt to force myself to relax, to breathe. A hand slid onto my lower back and a familiar presence shadowed me. I looked up at Mason in relief, and he smiled down at me with a twinkle in his blue eyes. “This is…” He tapered off, looking stunned.

“This is what?” I took a step backward to stand at his side, slightly leaning into him to give my feet a break.

He leaned down, whispering into my hair. “You’re incredible. I knew you’d pull this off, and that you had an eye for detail but this is just hard to put into words. Everyone’s been talking about it all night. Heather officially owns the title of best Christmas in Manhattan this year.”

“Don’t tell Abigail,” I murmured, smiling as my cheeks began to prickle with a blush under his praise. “She’d be heartbroken.”

“She’s here, actually. That’s where I’ve been for the last twenty minutes.” He chuckled softly, his hand coming to rest on my hip as he nudged me against him. “She said she’s booking you for next year, before Heather can get her talons in your schedule again.”

I smiled and looked up at him. That weight settled in my chest again, however, that strange feeling I couldn’t ignore. Mason noticed it somehow, his eyes scanning my face. “Are you okay?”