I smiled. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“With me?” He shrugged. “Yeah. It should.”
The way he said it, all self-assured and unbothered, made something low in my stomach flutter. I ignoredthaton purpose.
“You sure?” I asked, quieter now.
He held my gaze. “Ky, I’m not perfect, but you know one thing about me. I don’t bluff. If I say I got you, I got you. You get tired, you say the word, and we out. Ain’t nobody gon’ play in your face today.”
It wasn’t exactly romantic, but I guess my body didn’t care about “exactly,” the way it was heating and melting. I bit my lip. He smiled like he knew. I nodded once.
“Okay,” I said. “Let’s go buy shiny nonsense.”
Aziza squealed. “Ornaments!” she yelled.
“Glitter!” Zoriah added.
“Headache,” I finished.
They didn’t care. They were already halfway to the door.
“Max, you on house arrest, little traitor. Watch the hill,” I told my dog when he tried to follow.
He huffed and flopped dramatically by the stairs as we walked out. We piled into the truck, girls in the back, Jabali and me in the front. It felt weirdly domestic, and I refused to think too hard about that.
“So, what kind of ornaments you like, Ms. Kyleigh?” Zoriah asked, leaning between the seats
“Simple ones. White. Silver. Maybe one accent color. Classic. Elegant,” I said.
Aziza made a gagging noise. “That’s boring. Christmas supposed to be colors and sparkles. I want candy canes and reindeer and dinosaurs and ornaments shaped like donuts.”
“Donuts?” I repeated. “On my tree?”
“Ourtree,” she corrected sweetly.
I sighed. “We’ll see.”
“Translation: she scared,” Jabali said under his breath.
I scowled at him. “I heard that.”
He smiled, eyes on the road. “Good. I meant for you to.”
We went to the only place in town equipped to handle this level of foolishness: Bellarose’s Beautiful Baubles. She was open year-round with home décor, but at Christmas? Oh, at Christmas, Mrs. Bellarose put on a show. The parking lot was packed. I tensed as soon as we pulled in.
“You good?” he asked, putting the truck in park.
I shook my head. “But I’m going in anyway.”
“I know y’all excited, but stay close. If I can’t see you, we leaving,” he told the girls as he opened their door.
“Yes, sir,” they sang, already bouncing.
Inside, the store was a chaos of colored lights, fake snow machines, inflatable Santas, and Mariah Carey playing just loud enough to annoy me. Aziza gasped like she’d stepped through the pearly gates.
“Mama, look!” she breathed, spinning in a slow circle. “I love it. It’s like Christmas is everywhere.”
“It’s like Christmas threw up,” I mumbled.
