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Meg’s gaze wavers as she studies me. “You…don’t like cinnamon rolls either,” she says softly.
Theoh, god, I fucked up againin her voice breaks me.
She hasn’t fucked up.
I have.
And I’m done fucking up.
“I want three.” Preferably served on her bare belly so I can feast oneverythingI’d like to devour at once. My voice goes a little hoarse. “Put them on a plate like they’re a snowman.”
She scratches her nose as she studies me like she’s trying to decide if I’m serious, leaving behind a smear of icing right at the tip.
I want to lick it.
I want to lick the icing off her nose, and then I want to kiss her until I can’t breathe, and then I want to feed her cinnamon rolls while I strip her naked and do things to her body that are probably illegal but that will make us both feel so, so good.
And she’s your best friend’s little sister, dummy.
Finally, she turns to the pan of cinnamon rolls withHappy Birthday, Jenniferscrawled across it in pink frosting. “If you’re doing this just for me, you really don’t have to. But if you’re doing it so that you can make some happy holiday memories and maybe one day look forward to them for yourself, I’m in.”
“You’re making this the best Christmas I’ve ever had.”
The raw honesty is hard.
But it’s necessary.
I’ve been a dick.
She deserves better, and more, I want tobebetter.
I want to be the kind of guy who deserves to date his best friend’s sister.
She’s gone totally, completely still.
Fuck.
She doesn’t believe me.
“This year’s sucked,” I say over the penis carol. “I don’t feel like I earned that World Series ring. My career’s over. I know there’s more to come, but I’mnot ready. I will be. One day. But I’m not done mourning what I had. And now we’re heading into the time of year when I remember all the ways the holidays never lived up to the hype and the expectation, and I wanted to hide from all of it, but you’re here, meeting me halfway, making itfun, pushing me to get the hell outside of my own head and let itbefun. So thank you. And I’m sorry I’ve been a dick.”
She slowly turns to face me, three stacked cinnamon rolls wobbling on my basic white plate. “I’ve had a crush on you since you gave me the last piece of fried chicken at Jude’s college graduation picnic,” she whispers.
“Meg—”
“It’s okay. You don’t have to crush on me back. I won’t ever say anything about it again. I just wanted you to know, because people shouldn’t hide it when they think other people are awesome. But you’re down, and I’m trying too hard, so I’ll stop. I promise. I’ll see if Zeus and Joey will let me—oh.”
Oh.
It’s the last thing she gets out before my mouth crashes down on hers.
Something clatters to the floor. She makes a soft whimper, then she melts into me.
Into my body. Into the kiss.
Intoeverything.
I’ll probably regret this later.
