“The final touch,” I muttered, holding it up.
Aurora looked over; the glow of the tree painted her cheeks in gold. I pointed to the top of the tree, then to the star, and raised a brow.
She shook her head, smiling a little. “You’re t-tall,” she said.
“Yeah, but you’re the one who actually made it look good,” I said, stepping closer. “You do it.”
She started shaking her head again, mouthing,No, no way, I can’t reach—
Before she could finish, I stepped forward, hands instinctively finding her waist. She froze, eyes wide, hands halfway raised, and before either of us could process it, I’d already lifted her up.
“Go on,” I said, voice low. “You said this was the best part.”
Her small gasp melted into a nervous laugh, and then she reached up carefully, trembling just a little as she steadied the star. Her fingers brushed the top of the tree, sleeves rolling back a bit.
I held her steady, fingers firm at her waist but careful, as if she might break if I held her too tight.
The golden light shimmered across her face, and I swear for a second, I forgot to breathe.
“There,” I murmured, eyes still on her, “perfect.”
She turned her head down at me, cheeks flushed from the heat of the lights or maybe from me holding her, and whispered, almost soundless, “D-done.”
I slowly lowered her back down. When her feet touched the floor, she turned to face me, not realising the micro space between us until she was already facing me.
For a second, she didn’t move away; neither of us did.
But Honey—
Fucking troublemeowedfrom under the tree, tail swishing, breaking the silence, making her take a step back.
God, this furball.
She was staring up at the tree, arms crossed gently over her cast, with a satisfied look on her face. And I just stood behind her, studying her profile, the way the lights beamed in her eyes, making her absolutely unreal.
I cleared my throat softly, rubbing the back of my neck before saying, “Come. For Christmas.”
She blinked and looked over, confused.
I shrugged, forcing it out before I changed my mind. “Since Honey’s up here anyway, and—” I hesitated, glancing at her. “We’d both be alone.”
Her lips parted a little, as if she wanted to say something but didn’t know what.
“I’ll cook,” I added quickly, tone lighter, teasing almost. “It’ll be good, I promise. You’ll want to keep coming back for more.”
Her brows lifted at that. “M-more?”
“I’m quite a good cook, I’m sure you know by now,” I muttered, a small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.
She looked down at the kitten that was now tangled in a strand of tinsel, then back at me. For a moment, she just stood there, thinking.
Then she nodded. Once. Small but sure.
And that simple motion did something to me I couldn’t explain.
Not forgiveness.
But something.
