After a little tactical rearranging, the tree is finally done.
“Now what?” Reed eyes the rest of the decorations and lights still in the boxes. “There seems to be a lot left. Are they just spares?”
Spares?
“Nope.” I pat him on the shoulder. “Now we do the rest of the house and the outside. Starting with the front door.” It never feels like the holiday season until I put that wreath on my door. Pretty sure I get that from my mum because it’s what she still says every year. I grab the bag that Pete gave me and pull out the wreath, but something else falls out with it onto the carpet.
I laugh when I see what it is, and bend to scoop it up. “That fucker.” I hold it up for Reed to see.
“Mistletoe?” He frowns and looks at Frank, who’s settled down and is almost falling asleep in his arms.
“It’s fake,” I tell him quickly. “Pete would never give me the real thing, knowing I’ve got these guys.” I reach down and stroke Jen who’s just wandered in.
Reed visibly relaxes, expression turning curious. “Where are you going to put it?”
“Um...” I run a hand through my hair, thinking. I could just bin it, but that feels wrong. “Over the front door?”
Reed snorts. “You know the rules, right?”
“Rules?”
“That if you meet someone under it, you have to kiss them.”
I scoff. “No one does that.”
“Don’t they?” He raises an eyebrow.
“I certainly don’t remember anyone kissing like that in the pub, and it’s everywhere.”
“That’s different. It’s a public place.”
I narrow my eyes. “You’re making this up.”
He ignores me. “If you put it above your front door, you’re either going to willingly invite bad luck or kiss everyone who comes to your house?”
Even if I think he’s full of shit, I’m not going to argue because this is fun. But neither of those options sound appealing when he puts it like that. Especially considering Sean regularly comes to my house. I shudder. I don’t think I’m all that superstitious, but... “Okay, so not the front door.” I look around, wondering where else to put a sprig of mistletoe, and it dawns on me that anywhere else I put it will probably be the same if I have guests. But it could also be an excuse to kiss Reed. I weigh the pros and cons.
It’s not like I have to invite people over, right?
“Kitchen door.” I nod as if it’s decided and search for something to stick it up there with.
Reed follows me into the kitchen and watches as I stick the mistletoe up on the door frame. It occurs to me as I step back a little to check out my handiwork that we’re both stood under it.
I’m thirty-seven years old.
Surely that’s too old to be wondering whether or not I should kiss someone under the mistletoe, but that’s exactly what I’m standing here doing. Maybe Reed had a point when he asked how this was going to work. If we were dating, I wouldn’t hesitate to tug him close. But we’re not.
I’m so not cut out for this.
“Come here,” Reed murmurs and grabs my jumper. “You know the rules.”
I let him tug me close, thankful that at least one of us isn’t awkward as fuck.
When he kisses me, it’s easy to lose myself to the way he tilts my head just so and slides his tongue against mine. To not think about what this is or isn’t, and maybe that’s the key: don’t think too hard and just go with whatever feels right.
Right now, what feels right is wrapping my arms around Reed and kissing him back until we both need to break for air.
“There,” he says. “Now we won’t have bad luck.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, and something settles inside me.
