Her hair is pulled into a loose knot, cheeks a little pink from the cold, bundled in one of those coats that look like they could withstand a blizzard and a breakup at the same time. For one beat, the memory of her tangled in my sheets slams into me so hard I lose my breath.
I set the grocery bags on the counter. “What are you doing here?”
“Molly told me about dinner being moved,” she says. “She also told me not to let you cook alone.”
“I didn’t agree to cook alone.”
“I know. You agreed to host twenty people. Congratulations.”
I drag a hand down my face. “I didn’t agree to that either.”
“Well, you’re doing it anyway.” She surveys the kitchen like she’s assessing damages. “But don’t worry. I’m here now. Step one is getting this place to look like actual humans live here.”
“It does look like humans live here.”
She raises her eyebrows at the sad tree in the corner. “Does it?”
I bite back a comment. “It doesn’t need to be perfect.”
She moves past me to unload groceries, brushing close enough that the sleeve of her coat grazes my arm. Too close. I step back.
She glances at me. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to invade your space.”
“You didn’t,” I lie. “Just… surprised.”
Her mouth curves, not quite a smile. “You thought you’d get out of seeing me again?”
I swallow. Hard. “Didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
She starts lining things up on the counter with brisk efficiency. Heavy cream. Butter. Two pies. A bag of cranberries. My brain keeps lagging behind, stuck on the sight of her. The sound of her voice. The echo of that night.
She glances over her shoulder. “Bradley says everyone’s excited.”
“Bradley says lots of things.”
“Fair.”
I reach for the bag with the rolls just as she does, our fingers brushing. Heat shoots straight up my arm. She blinks fast and snatches her hand back.
Her pulse jumps in her throat. Mine probably does too.
“So,” she says, clearing her voice. “Where are your decorations?”
“You’re looking at them.”
She gives the tree a long stare like she’s trying to decide whether to laugh or offer condolences. “Right. We’re going to need more.”
“I don’t need the place looking like Santa exploded in here.”
“You’re hosting families. You need effort.” She opens the nearest box. It contains exactly one tangled string of lights. “Wow. This is sad.”
I grit my teeth. “Dahlia.”
“What?”
“You’re judging.”
