"That's dark."
He pulls a face, looking pointedly at me. "You're the one writing about serial gaslighting and murder."
I laugh. "Fair point. But I like your ending. Maybe I'll use it."
"Feel free. I don't charge royalties." He throws me a wink. "I'll just charge orgasms."
I purse my lips, and roll my eyes. "You know I'll give you those for free."
We finish the ornaments and step back to admire our work. The tree is stunning, covered in sparkles. It transforms the whole cabin, makes it feel less like a shelter and more like a home.
"We need a topper," Chase says, digging through the last box. He pulls out a star, it's wooden with a glitter outline. "Me and my wife made this. Our first Christmas together."
He holds it out to me, and I shake my head. "You should put it on."
"I can't reach the top without a ladder," he measures the distance from the top as he looks up at it.
"So get a ladder."
"Or." He crouches down slightly. "You could get on my shoulders and do it."
"Chase, I'll fall."
"I won't let you fall. I promise."
I look at him, at the certainty in his eyes, and I believe him. So I take the star and let him help me onto his shoulders. He stands slowly, carefully, his hands gripping my legs to keep me steady.
"Okay?" he asks.
"Okay." I reach up, stretching toward the top of the tree. My fingers brush the highest branch, and I carefully slide the star into place. I don't want to drop this, it obviously means a lot to Chase, which means it does to me. "Got it."
He lowers me back down, his hands sliding from my legs to my waist, and for a moment we just stand there, my hands on his shoulders, his hands on my waist, our faces inches apart.
"Perfect," he murmurs, but I don't think he's talking about the tree.
Neither am I.
I lean in and kiss him, slow and deep, and he responds immediately. His hands tighten on my waist, pulling me closer, and I thread my fingers through his hair. The kiss gets out of hand, heat spreading through me, and when we finally break apart, we're both breathing hard.
"We should probably finish decorating," I say, even though that's the last thing I want to do right now.
"Probably," he agrees, but he doesn't let me go.
We stand there for another moment, wrapped up in each other, and then he steps back with a frustrated sigh. "Garland. We still need to hang the garland."
"Right. The garland."
We drape it across the mantle, weaving in some of the ornaments we didn't use on the tree. By the time we're done, the whole cabin looks like something out of a Christmas card.
I sink onto the couch, exhausted but happy. Chase joins me, pulling me against his side, and we sit there looking at what we've created together.
"Thank you," I tell him.
"For what?"
"For this. For giving me a reason to celebrate again. For believing I could write. For," I gesture vaguely at everything. "Just all of this."
"You don't have to thank me for any it."
