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“We’re hiring an interior designer,” I rasp.
Eva snorts. “You’re pulling out all the stops, aren’t you?”
“Maybe I am.”
She shakes her head, smiling at me. “If I knew any better, I think you might li—crap!”
The fire alarm goes off as both of us look at the smoke billowing from the oven. Looks like we won’t be making a gingerbread house.
“Ohnonono,” she moans as she rushes to remove the charred remains of her gingerbread from the oven and I open up a few windows.
By the time I come back to the kitchen, she’s standing in front of what looks like pure carbon.
“Looks like your gingerbread house went up in smoke.”
She tries to glare at me but she can’t keep a straight face. “It did, didn’t it?”
“I guess we’ll have to wait another day for your Christmas tradition.”
She shakes her head. “You’re not going to get out of it that easily. And I’m not going to watchDie Hardunless I can split my attention between it and a gingerbread house.” She taps me on my chest, and all I’m thinking about is what I can do to keep her hand there. “I’ve got backups.”
I laugh. “Of course you do. You probably have an extra tree in the back of your car.”
Eva stares at me without saying anything. She doesn’t have to because her response is painted on her face.
“Seriously?”
“What? It’s just a small one. Artificial, but I love it. I haven’t decided where I want to put it yet. Also, I have my entire Christmas village collection that we need to set up, but I’ll save that for another day.”
I shake my head. If you were to ask me a week ago how I planned on spending Christmas, this wouldn’t be it. I’d be spending Christmas like I have for the past decade. Alone. Far away from any festive atmosphere. There’d be no trimmed trees. No gingerbread, boughs of holly, or colored lights. I definitely wouldn’t be setting up an entire Christmas village.
But now that I’ve met Eva—this is the first holiday season where my pain doesn’t feel so bad. I’m remembering what it was like having my parents around rather than dwelling on what I lost.
“Probably lights up too, huh?”
“Of course,” she says, like it’s the most insane thing for me to think otherwise. “If it doesn’t light up, can it be called a Christmas village?”
“I don’t know, you tell me. You seem to be the expert in the field of all things Christmas.”
She affects a haughty tone as she brushes her shoulder. “I believe I am.”
“Ah, a graduate of Santa’s workshop. How’d you get in?”
“Everyone born on Christmas gets invited.”
“A Christmas baby? You really were born to love Christmas.”
“They don’t call me Christmas Eva for nothing.”
“Who’s they?”
“Oh, um—my parents. Friends and family.”
“Boyfriend?”
She swallows. “You know I’m single, Nick. I wouldn’t be using Juliet’s matchmaking service if I wasn’t.”
She starts fidgeting with her fingers. Drags her teeth across her bottom lip. Am I making my Eva nervous? Am I pushing a little too hard?
