“Really?” Her arms fold across her chest.
“Celeste?” I say, feigning ignorance.
“Yes, Celeste is pretty.”
“Not as pretty as my favorite little lady.” I wink at her.
She rolls her eyes. “You’re getting old.”
“What? No, I’m not.”
“Obviously you are if your eyesight has gone already.”
Jesus.
I chuckle, not even getting a chance to stifle it. My girl is perceptive as hell. And Celeste is...
Well, Maise is right about one thing—our new neighbor may be a complete pain in my ass, but she’s stunning. I’ll give her that.
Since it’s Christmas.
Yeah, that’s it, a Christmas nicety.
By the time we get home, the snow is falling in steady waves. I help Maise out of the truck and head upstairs with our few items. After shucking our boots, Maise makes a beeline for thetree while I put the eggs and milk in the fridge, leaving the bread on the counter.
Food stored away, I wander to the living room to find an almost bursting Maisey, remote in hand. The room is dim, ready for the big moment.
“Ready?” she squeals.
“Ready, kiddo.”
“Countdown! Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four...”
I take over. “Three, two . . . one . . .”
“Merry Christmas!” we holler at the same time she flicks the switch, and the room comes alive, the tree blazing in every hue of the rainbow. The star on top emits a warm golden glow, dousing the ceiling.
I wrap my arms around my daughter, and she climbs me like a tree as she twists in my hold. “Isn’t she so beautiful!”
“She is. You did so good.”
She snuggles into my arms, her head dropping to my shoulder as she yawns.
“Bedtime, clever girl,” I whisper.
“No . . .”
“Maise, you have school in the morning.”
“Fine. But remember I went to bed without a fuss even after staying up so late.” The second the words leave her mouth, she looks sheepish.
Shit, it’s late.
I’d been so caught up in the tree and the incident at the store, I lost track of time.
I narrow my eyes at her playfully. “Noted.”
“You mean it? Can I stay up later on the weekends now?”
