“T-thank you.” She pulls away, busying herself with the ornaments.
We work our way around the tree, her hanging ornaments at the bottom while I place them higher. The domestic rhythm feels oddly right. Natural. As if we’ve done this before.
“You’re too tall,” she says, stretching to reach a bare spot near the top. “It’s unfair.”
I move behind her, reaching over her head to place the ornament. “Better?”
She turns, finding herself trapped between me and the tree. “Show-off.”
“Can’t help it. Why waste time with a ladder when I’m right here?”
Her eyes drop to my mouth, then quickly away. “Did you decorate trees with Ryan’s mother?”
The question catches me off guard. “No. She left when he was six months old. Decided motherhood didn’t suit her lifestyle.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don’t be. Her loss.” I reach for another ornament, forcing her to stay close to me. “What about you? Ever do this with someone special?”
She shakes her head. “Not since Mom got sick. The last few years have been ... complicated.”
“How sick is she?”
Her eyes widen slightly. I’ve surprised her with the directness.
“It’s treatable but … expensive.” She looks away, hand trembling slightly as she hangs another ornament.
“Is that why you were at the auction?”
She freezes. “I don't want to talk about that.”
“Why not?” I press my palm against the tree trunk, effectively caging her in. “Ashamed?”
“No.” She lifts her chin. “Desperate, not ashamed. There’s a difference.”
“Tell me why.”
“It doesn’t matter.” She tries to duck under my arm, but I don’t move.
“It matters to me.”
“Why?” Her voice rises slightly. “It was a business arrangement. You paid for the weekend. What does it matter why I was there?”
“Because I want to know everything about you.” The truth slips out before I can filter it. “Because nothing about you makes sense.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’re educated, beautiful, intelligent. You don’t fit the profile of people at that auction.”
She swallows hard. “Maybe you don’t know as much as you think you do.”
I lean closer until my mouth ghosts her skin. “I know more than you realize.”
“W-what does that mean?”
Instead of answering, I reach up and plug in the lights. The tree illuminates, bathing us both in soft, multicolored light. Her face transforms in the glow—worry giving way to childlike wonder.
“God, it’s beautiful,” she whispers.
