We climb the stairs of the house, and I unlock the front door. Pushing it open, she walks inside. Setting the food down, we both remove our winter layers.
“What do you think about turning on the fireplace and us eating in the living room?”
“I like that idea,” she replies, a smile lighting her face.
She grabs the bag of food, and I work to start a fire. When I’m done, I turn to find her setting up the to-go containers on the coffee table.
“Want some wine?”
“Yes, please.”
I walk into the kitchen, grab a bottle of pinot noir from above the fridge, and open it.
“Heavy pour or light pour?” I call.
“Always a heavy pour,” she calls back.
I fill the glasses, then walk back to join her.
“Did you notice we don’t have a Christmas tree?” she asks as I sit down next to her and hand her wine.
“No.” I chuckle. “It does seem weird that Stella left out that little detail.”
“Very,” she muses, taking a sip. “My Christmas tree has been up since November first.”
“Of course it has,” I say over my glass.
“Don’t tell me,” she says. “You don’t have one.”
“I don’t.”
She rolls her eyes dramatically. “That’s insane.”
“I told you I’m rarely home this time of year, and when I am, I’m usually resting and trying to recuperate before my next game.”
“Excuses, excuses” she tsks. “Goodness, do I need to come over to your apartment when we get back to New York and help you set one up?”
“You can come over to my apartment whenever you want. You don’t need an excuse.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“No?” I tease. “Sounded like you were trying to come up with a reason to spend time with me.”
“Can I confess something?” she asks, giggling.
“Please,” I say, a little too eager.
“Contrary to popular belief, I do like spending time with you,” she whispers.
“You do?”
I try to mask my excitement, but it’s no use. I like the sound of what she just said too much.
“I know. I was surprised to figure it out too.”
Scooting closer to her, my eyes find hers, and my hand connects with the soft skin of her cheek.
“I like spending time with you too, Sugar. I like it a lot.”
