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“Not so fast, there, bucko,” she says. “Annalise is in your room, but you are out in the garage with your brothers.”
Mackenzie stops mid-stride. “Are you serious? We’re adults.”
She shrugs. “You know the rules. There will be no funny business under my roof.”
Mackenzie lets out a long, hard breath, retreats down the stairs, and drops his bag by the front door. He then holds out his now free hand to me. “Come on. I’ll show you to your room.”
I follow him upstairs to the last room at the end of a long hall. I’m not sure what to expect as Mackenzie opens the door—maybe more Christmas?—but what I get is a perfectly preserved shrine to Mackenzie’s teenage years.
“Oh. My. God.” I take in the Lumineers and Florida Georgia Line posters and the Toronto Maple Leafs bedspread. The music awards, the black light, and the floor-to-ceiling poster of Megan Fox.
“That was Clive’s,” Mackenzie says, and I notice a second bed in the corner.
“Wait! I’m stealing both of your rooms?”
Mackenzie sets my bag down on his desk. “Don’t worry, it’s fine. The loft above the garage is fully finished. We used to sleep out there all the time at Christmas. It was easier to spot Santa when we were little and easier to sneak home after curfew when we weren’t.”
I take another glance around the room, spotting a picture of Mackenzie taken sometime in his teens. His hair is long and shaggy, and I think he’s wearing a vest and what look like thick leather bracelets.
I pick it up. “Is this angsty poet Mackenzie?”
My hot musician Mackenzie nods. “In all his tormented glory.”
I glance at the photo again. “What was Becky thinking letting you get away?”
He takes the photo from my hands, tosses it on his desk, then wraps my arms around his body before cupping my face in his hands.
“Some things are just not meant to be.” He tips my chin up to kiss me softly on the lips. “How are you doing? We haven’t scared you off yet, right?”
I shake my head. “Not in the least.”
“Good.” He kisses me again. “Just remember, you don’t have to do everything. My mom gets excited to have us all home and goes a little overboard with the activities. If you need a break to hide out for a bit, tell me.”
“Should we have a safe word?” I press up on my toes to kiss him this time. “Something I can say that hints that I need you to bring me back up to this room immediately.”
I raise an eyebrow and bite my lip.
He walks me backward, pressing my back against the wall. His leg finds the gap between my thighs as he kisses me longer and harder than a moment ago.
“If you look at me the way you did just there, I don’t think we’ll be needing a safe word.”
“Good, because I was going to go with something along the lines of yuletide or sugarplum, but I worry those phrases come up in regular conversation in this house.”
He leans in to kiss me again, but before he can, his mom’s voice calls out from somewhere a little too close to the bedroom door.
“I am about to bake some cookies and could use an extra set of hands. Is anyone interested?”
Mackenzie shakes his head. “Remember, it’s fine to say no.”
I smile as I call out, “I would absolutely love to.”
• • •
“Can you pass me the allspice, honey? It’s the second one on your left.” Nancy holds a silver flour sifter above a large metal bowl. In the past twenty minutes, I’ve learned more about baking than I accumulated in my twenty-eight years of life, including what a flour sifter is and why one would use it. Mackenzie’s childhood kitchen reminds me of the ones from the Friday night sitcoms I would watch growing up. The cupboards are a light wood and the counters an off-white Formica, and there’s a border in the gap between the top of the cupboards and the ceiling with painted mallard ducks floating on marshes and about to take flight. Christmas has infiltrated this room as well. On the table is a set of salt and pepper shakers shaped like nutcrackers and a set of placemats with Santa’s sleigh being pulled by a team of fat, little pugs wearing antlers. The air smells like cookies even though nothing has made it into the oven yet. It’s warm and cozy, and I feel completely at home.
I pick up the allspice she asked for but hold it out instead of handing it to her. “Is this what you want?”
She nods and holds out her hand.
