Shit, no.
Not happening, Celeste.
We are not falling for the flannel-clad contractor next door. No matter how stupidly handsome, kind, and considerate he is.
Not doing it.
My life is complicated enough.
“This all has to go.” Maisey’s words snap me from the trance I’m in.
Quinton’s head tilts back just a little as he slaps a hand to the doorframe and disappears into the TV room.
I turn back to find Maisey ripping the few strings of tinsel and handful of ancient decorations from the tree.
“Those are the only things I had.”
“I know. That’s why I got Daddy to bring you some more. This tree is just sad.”
I chuckle and nod. She is totally right.
“You know what? We need some music, sweetheart.”
“Ooh yes! Something fun.”
Maisey’s head disappears into the oversized box as I slide my phone from my pocket and tap the screen to find Christmas music.
When I scroll through all the tunes, I come across “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree”. Perfect.
Turning the volume up, I race to the kitchen and find the biggest metal mixing bowl I can, setting my phone in it to amplify the sound. I rest it on the sofa, and we get to work. Dancing as we decorate, I follow the very detailed instructions from my holiday stylist until not only the tree is a spectacle in itself, but the room is absolutely spectacular, too.
“Last thing,” Maisey says, holding out a large light-up star to me. “You may do the honors.”
“Thanks, Maise.”
She beams at me. And I place the star on the very top.
“Wait!” Maisey says, hitting the light switch for the living room lights. “Daddy!”
Quick, heavy steps close in a heartbeat later, and she turns back to me with a double thumbs up.
I flick the small toggle on the star’s battery box, and the entire room lights up under its golden glow.
But when I turn back, the only person left in the living room with me is Quinton.
Ah, she totally set us up . . .
Little trickster.
“Well played, kiddo,” Quinton murmurs, the quiet words sending something visceral through me, his eyes burning into mine.
“Ta-da,” I say with strained enthusiasm, holding my arms out toward the impressive tree. “Isn’t she beautiful?”
But Quinton’s eyes don’t stray from my face to the tree, not for a second as he closes the distance between us. “Beautiful, stunning, thoughtful... selfless.”
He’s so close, every sense I own is infiltrated by him.
“We still talking about the tree?” I whisper.
