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“It feels better to fight about it,” he said.

I laughed a little. “Yeah,” I agreed. “It does.”

He glanced at me. “I’m not paying your hourly fee for this.”

I scoffed. “Can you even afford me?”

“Not with my student loans.”

He got a reluctant laugh out of me.

He put an arm around me, and I leaned into him.

“Jeremy?”

“Yeah?”

“Is that six years thing your grandma said an actual statistic or is that her way of saying she killed your grandfather?”

He snorted. “He died of prostate cancer. Allegedly.”

“I’d still keep an eye on her.”

“I agree. I think the odds of an old lady stabbing you with a knitting needle are low—but never zero.”

I smiled.

Then we just sat there, holding each other. The electricity moving between us like it always did. The connection restored.

“Can I ask you a question?” I sniffled.

“What.” He put a slow kiss on the top of my head.

“What are you doing the week after Christmas?”

He stilled. Then he dipped his head to look at me. I held his hopeful gaze.

“Do you want to hang out with me?” I asked. “No hard pants. Eating the junk food we got for the holiday? Just to see?”

His face went soft. “Or we could do something sooner. A trip to Little Christmas maybe. We could go to the parade, get you those Rice Krispie treat things you like. Stay in a nice bed-and-breakfast—in separate rooms,” he added. “If it makes you more comfortable.”

I shook my head slowly. “I think that would be a terrible waste of an extra hotel room.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

I slid my hand over the top of his and threaded our fingers together. “Let’s never do this again, Jeremy.”

“Do what?” he whispered.

“Not be together.”

This time when he kissed me, I didn’t pull away.

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MATTY