“How’d you manage to get a Christmas tree in here without me knowing?” I ask.
“Chip and Joe helped me sneak it in while Lolly and Aster distracted you.”
“Did they?”
“Yep!”
“Did you have the whole town in on this date?”
“Well, Aster helped with the flowers of course, and the guysmoved in the tree. Cami helped me find some ornaments and lights for us to use, and Lolly made some dessert for later.” He grins. “So, yeah, I guess you could say it was a team effort.”
“I wish they were all real,” I say, grabbing the bouquet off the table and bringing it to my nose.
“I do too, but let’s not think about that tonight.”
We both begin to move around the kitchen. I put the flowers in water and pour us each a glass of wine while he cooks. I bask in the normalcy of it all. How easily this could be a night in New York after a long day.
“I really like this,” I say, sitting on the counter and sipping my wine.
“The wine?” he asks, stirring the sauce and turning the knob to simmer.
“Well yes, but I like doing this,” I explain. “I like doing normal things with you. Like watching you cook dinner and talking about our days.”
“Are you reading my mind now?”
“Were you thinking that too?”
He nods.
“It’s strange,” I begin. “Because I’ve always known that you and I had the sex part down, but I wondered if this part would be just as good. Like if the quiet moments would feel just as intense and wonderful.”
“And?” he asks.
“They do,” I admit. “I find myself wanting these moments with you just as much as I want the other ones.”
Walking over, he wraps his arms around me, and I press my forehead to his. “Me too, Sugar. This past week has meant everything to me.”
He lays a gentle kiss across my lips, then moves to finish making the food. I watch as he carefully makes us each a bowl.
We move into the living room, and he lights a fire before disappearing to change into his pajamas.
He walks out of the bedroom wearing just the pants. “I have a feeling you had an ulterior motive when you decided to go shirtless tonight,” I tease.
“It did feel like a win-win,” he jests.
“What made you want to make this? I’ve neverhad pasta as part of a Christmas celebration. Is this what your family does when you’re together?”
“No, we don’t really have traditions, but I thought, if you liked it, we could start some of our own.”
“Our own traditions?”
“Yeah, like every year I cook us some fettuccine and then we decorate our tree.”
My heart jumps in my chest, and my stomach swoops with butterflies.
“Is that what this is? A night of new traditions?” I ask, a little breathless.
“Only if you want it to be.”
