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“So let’s go all out. In memory of your grandma,” he adds softly.
I blink back tears and nod, surprised at yet another sweet gesture from him. This man is full of surprises and much more capable of empathy than anyone gives him credit for. I’d like to think I had a little something to do with that.
“I’ll make some calls,” I finally reply, swallowing past the lump in my throat. “Um, th-thank you,” I stutter.
“No, thankyou,” he says, confusing me even further.
I gather my bag, not bothering to clean up the hot chocolates. I’ll tell Ben to warm them up and hand them out to people in the office after selecting his favorite, of course.
Slipping through the office door, I take a deep breath and lean against the cool wood, much like my first meeting with Kingsley two weeks ago. Only this time, I’m breathless for an entirely different reason.
5
KINGSLEY
“Where the hell is this place?” I mutter as the GPS directs me down another gravel road, this one even less maintained than the last. The back wheels of my Tesla spin slightly as I take the turn, and I wince, knowing I’ll need to replace them after today.
I received a cryptic email from Clementine this afternoon with an address and instructions to dress warmly. I should have ignored it. A previous version of myself would have. But now?Now, I seem to hang on her every word. Now, I want to know everything about her. Now, I long to be in her presence. If throwing on a coat and gloves and driving thirty minutes outside of the city is what it takes to see Clementine, it’s a small price to pay, tires included.
Something happened yesterday. The usually bright, sunshiny event planner walked into my office with a fake smile plastered on her face and exhaustion clouding her emerald eyes. Everything about her was subdued, which isn’t like the Clementine I’ve come to know over the last fifteen days.
Her light was gone. She was putting on a good show, but I could see the heaviness in her heart. I could fucking feel the weight of the world on her shoulders, and when she confessed she was missing her grandma… I couldn’t hold back. I had to touch her in some way and comfort her.
I don’t know the first thing about caring for someone as precious as Clementine, but after having her in my arms, I don’t think I can let her go.
“The destination is on your right,” the GPS informs me.
Turning to the right, I see a wooden archway several dozen feet down the snow-covered lane with the words “Carlisle’s Christmas Tree Farm.”
Surely Clementine doesn’t think we’re going to chop down a tree today? Even as the question crosses my mind, I know it’s exactly the kind of thing Clementine would do. Instead of finding it annoying, her over-eagerness and cheery spirit make me want to kiss her nose and bundle her up in my arms again.
As soon as I pull into a parking spot, I see Clementine waving and jogging toward my car. She has on a teal winter coat and a fluffy white hat with matching gloves. Her cheeks and nose are slightly red from the chill in the air, and I know. I just know. She’s so fucking it for me.
What do I do now?
Opening my car door, I stand and wave at Clementine like the biggest dork with a crush. It’s so much more than a crush, though. When she smiles at me, my chest tightens to the point of pain. It aches. Iachefor her.
“Hi, Kingsley!” she calls out. “Surprise!”
Clementine is a few feet from me, her arms outstretched as if showcasing the entire tree farm. I don’t have it in me to even pretend to be grumpy. The truth is, I haven’t stopped thinking about her since she left my office yesterday morning.
“Clementine,” I reply, shoving my hands in my coat pockets.
I’m unsure what the protocol is here. I want to hug her again, lean down, kiss her, and greet her like lovers, but we’re not there yet. I’d never forgive myself for taking things too far or making her uncomfortable. My girl is nearly fifteen years younger than me, and I get the sense she hasn’t had a relationship before, physical or otherwise.
“I wasn’t sure you’d show up,” she says, swaying closer.
Clementine squeezes her hands into fists at her sides, then relaxes them as if she’s nervous. Do I make her nervous?
“I’ll always show up for you,” I tell her, my words shocking me as much as her. “Uh,” I say, clearing my throat. “So, tree shopping? How many are we getting? One for every nook and cranny of the venue? Two? Or perhaps we’re decorating the office building today?”
Clementine giggles, and I close my eyes, letting her tinkling laughter fill me up. “No, we’ll have fake trees for the party, and I’m sure the floors in your building already have some holiday decor. This tree is for you.”
“Me?” I blink at her a few times.
She beams up at me and nods. “Yeah. Your office is the only place in the entire building without decorations, holiday, personal, or otherwise. You spend how many hours a day cooped up in there? I think you deserve a legit, real tree for your office.”
“A real tree that sheds pine needles and leaks sap?” I ask, looking at her skeptically. Of course, I’m going to do whatever she asks, but I have to give her a hard time first. I like seeing her rise to the challenge.
