She nods, sinking onto the couch. “She’s been here since this morning, taking over everything.”
I sit beside her, noting the tension in her shoulders. “You looked the way I feel when my father talks.”
“Helpless?”
“Smaller than I actually am.”
Eliza meets my eyes. “Yeah. Exactly that.”
I reach for her hands, which are cold despite the warm house. “We’re both bigger than our parents, you know. We don’t have to shrink just because they expect us to.”
“Easy to say. Harder to remember when they’re right there, pushing all the buttons they installed.”
“Then we remind each other.” I squeeze her hands. “That’s what partners do, right?”
Something in her expression shifts, softens. “Partners?”
“Yeah, remember? Working toward love… everything we said the other night?” I glance up the stairs and, seeing nobody, squeeze Eliza’s thigh. “I know this is all new and complicated, but…” I take a breath. “I want to be on your team, Eliza. Whatever that looks like.”
Before she can respond, I remember the thermoses I left by the door. “I brought apology cocoa. As promised.”
Her smile is the first genuine one I’ve seen since I arrived. “You did?”
I retrieve the thermoses and hand her one, watching as she takes a careful sip. A small dot of whipped cream clings to her upper lip, and I brush it away with my thumb.
“Better?” I ask.
“Much better.”
I lean in to kiss her, soft and brief, tasting chocolate and relief on her lips.
“I don’t see any mistletoe,” she says when we part.
“Don’t need it.”
She grins, and for a moment we’re just us again—not the children of difficult parents, not business owners facing uncertain futures, just two people who’ve found something good together.
“I have news,” I say. “Good news, I think.”
“Please tell me it involves your trees and not my mother.”
“Definitely trees. I got an email from an investor who wants to meet at the Yule Gala. It’s not guaranteed, but it’s hope.”
“That’s amazing.”
“It is… but it’s also terrifying.” I run a hand through my hair. “This is my last shot. If it doesn’t work out…”
“Then you figure out plan C.”
“We’re probably up to plan F at this point.”
Eliza looks at me seriously, then seems to make some kind of decision. “You could set up shop here.”
“What?”
“I’ve got that old shed, plus a couple of other buildings. You could convert one into a greenhouse, grow your trees alongside my goats.” The words come out in a rush, like she’s afraid she’ll lose courage if she slows down. “It wouldn’t be fancy, but it would be spacious.”
I stare at her, stunned by the generosity of the offer. “Eliza…”
