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“Not really.” I cringe.
She rolls her eyes playfully. “Let’s go look at some Christmas windows and see if that will do the trick.”
She takes my hand, and we cross the street over to Saks and walk around, discovering more Christmas cheer that’s supposed to kick-start my pathetic heart into loving the holiday.
But none of them makes me feel anything more than being with Kenzie already does. My heart has been kick-started, it just has nothing to do with Christmas.
ChapterTwenty-Two
Kenzie
My nose is frozen and starting to run and my feet are growing numb because of how long we’ve been outside walking around. Still, I don’t want our night to end.
Ever since the first kiss we shared, all I want to do is spend time with Andrew. Which seems crazy given my first impression of him. But since I’ve gotten to know him, I’ve discovered a different side to him. He’s not the pompous, difficult asshole I once thought he was.
Oh sure, he can be that at times, but it’s not the whole of who he is.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m freezing,” he says.
“Same.”
To my delight, it doesn’t seem as if he wants the night to end either. “I was wondering… since we’re not that far from my place… any chance you want to head back there for some hot chocolate?” He grips the back of his neck in what I think is a nervous gesture, which I find charming.
“How can I resist an invitation for hot chocolate?”
He smiles and takes my hand again. He lives in Lenox Hill, so we make our way to the Upper East Side, chatting along the way. His building looks to be built prewar and has a charm that my brother’s doesn’t. We make our way inside and head up to the top level where he unlocks his apartment and motions for me to enter ahead of him.
I don’t know what I expected—I guess something along the lines of my brother’s place—but this certainly isn’t it. Rich wood floors set in a herringbone pattern lead from the foyer into the main living area, where a fireplace with a gorgeous carved wood mantel is the centerpiece of the room. The furniture, a mix of cabinets and the art on the wall—I’m surprised he even has any—is fairly eclectic as well. The vibe is comfortable, a little moody and cozy. Though some of the furniture pieces lean toward traditional, there’s nothing stuffy about the way it’s presented. It definitely feels like the kind of place you could kick up your feet and relax after a long day.
“This is really nice, Andrew. How long have you lived here?” I turn around to look at where he still stands in the entryway, watching me soak in his place.
“About three years. It needed a fair amount of work when I got it, so it was a project the first couple of years.”
“Job well done.”
“Thanks.” He walks over to me. “Can I take your coat?”
I pull off my mittens and my hat, then unwind my scarf, unbutton my coat and slip it off, and hand it all to him.
“I’m going to hang all this up and then turn on the kettle. Be right back. Make yourself at home.”
I smile and watch him put all my belongings in the closet in the foyer, then he disappears into a doorway just outside the living area. I do a sweep of the room, walking in a circle around all the furniture to check out the view out of the window. This late in the day, it’s a bunch of twinkling lights breaking up the darkness below.
The built-in bookcase surrounding the TV mounted to the wall is filled with thrillers, and it’s clear which are his favorites because the spines are cracked and worn as if he’s gone back to reread them a thousand times.
Andrew returns a few minutes later with a tray, and when he sets it on the coffee table, I grin. I walk over to take a seat on the couch.
“I wasn’t sure what you like, so when I went to the store earlier this week, I grabbed a bunch of different kinds. Let’s see, I’ve got regular hot chocolate, white hot chocolate, gingerbread hot chocolate, candy cane hot chocolate, truffle hot chocolate, and rainbow hot chocolate, whatever that is. Pick your poison.”
My cheeks hurt from smiling while inspecting the assortment of hot chocolate and marshmallows of different shapes and sizes, a can of whipped cream and some chocolate stir sticks. I feel incredibly special that he went to so much trouble.
“I’m going to go with the regular hot chocolate, please.”
“A traditionalist. I like it. I’ll do the same.”
He opens the packages and pours the powder into the mugs on the tray, then he tips the hot water from the kettle into the mugs before stirring each one. “I wasn’t sure what kind of toppings you like on yours, so I got a bunch.”
I reach for some of the small, white marshmallows and drop them in my mug. He leaves his without any toppings.
