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“Yup,” she confirms. “It’s all part of the experience. Come on. Let’s check out this lot over here.”
Clementine holds out her hand to me, and I stare at it, surprised that she offered it so freely. She takes my hesitation for rejection and quickly drops her hand. I lunge forward and wrap my fingers around her hand, securing it in mine as I match her steps.
Clementine looks down at our entwined hands, then up at me, her cheeks an even brighter shade of pink than before. I like it. Maybe a little too much. What else will make her blush?
“Tell me about the experience of having a real tree,” I say after we’ve walked a few moments in silence.
“You’ve never had a real Christmas tree before?!” Clementine stops short, making me come to a halt.
“You met my mother, right?” I deadpan. “She would never have gone for that. We had one of those huge silver trees in the entryway of our house, adorned with over-the-top golden and silver ornaments. We never set it up, of course. My mother hired people for that. She wanted the appearance of a happy family without doing any of the actual work.”
I’m unsure why I told her all of that. I could’ve simply told her I’d never had a real tree. But somehow, Clementine makes me comfortable enough to share. Never thought I wanted that, but being able to talk to Clementine is freeing in a way I’ve never experienced.
“Yeah, you’re right,” she says as we continue our slow, casual walk through the tree farm. “I can’t picture your mother roughing it out in the woods to find the perfect tree.”
I chuckle dryly and nod. “Honestly? I hated Christmas growing up.”
It’s colder than I initially thought, but anywhere outside New York City is colder without the hustle and bustle of city life. A few snow flurries float in the air, getting caught on Clementine’s eyelashes.
She squeezes my hand, and I squeeze back. “It was the one day out of the year my parents pretended to like me and tolerate each other. I was miserable, knowing they would go back to ignoring me and cheating on each other the next day. I… I’m sorry. I can’t seem to stop talking around you,” I finish lamely.
“You don’t have to apologize for telling me about your childhood,” Clementine says softly. “It sounds like an uncaring home. I’m sorry you grew up like that.”
I shake my head, unable to accept her kindness. It’s ridiculous. I have nothing to complain about. “Poor rich kid, right?” I joke, but it comes off stilted and awkward, two things I’ve never struggled with before.
“You don’t have to dismiss your pain because you think someone else’s is worse. Sure, you’ve always had financial security and then some, but there’s a quote from a great philosopher who says mo’ money, mo’ problems.”
A laugh bursts out of me, shocking both of us. “Ah, yes, the great philosopher, The Notorious B.I.G.” I chuckle. “Aren’t you a little young to know that song?”
“Hey, a classic is a classic,” she counters, giving me another of her warm smiles.
“Classic? Ouch.” I put my hand over my chest as if in pain. Clementine knocks into me with her shoulder and rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You’re notthatold.”
“Just old enough then,” I say, pausing to look down at her.
Clementine nods. “Just old enough.”
She sways closer to me, her lips parting slightly as her eyes lock onto mine. This is it. I’m going to taste her sweet lips for the first time, and when I do, I know I’ll be a goner.
“Can I help you two find anything?” someone calls out from a few yards away.
A growl rumbles up from some primal place inside me. I don’t like being interrupted when my girl is offering herself so sweetly to me.
“No,” I grunt.
Clementine swats me in the chest, giving me a chastising look. “He’s kidding,” she says to the tree farm worker. “We’re looking for a blue spruce tree.” My girl turns to me, a sparkle in her green eyes. “I thought we’d do your office in golds, blues, and greens. The blue spruce will be perfect.”
“Show us the biggest, fullest, bluest spruce you’ve got,” I say to the young man.
“Not everything has to be the biggest and best,” Clementine whispers as we follow the worker to one of the other lots on the property.
“Then what’s the point of having all this money?” I counter.
My girl rolls her eyes again, but there’s nothing she can do to hide her smile.
“Here we are,” the man announces, stopping in front of a massive twelve-foot-tall tree. “Biggest one here.”
One look at the gleam in Clementine’s round, green eyes, and I know I’ll do anything to get her to light up like that.
