He laughs, adding pieces of chocolate to the milk. I toss in the sugar and add a little condensed milk. He smiles back at me and mixes everything in. Yeah, I’m definitely good here. When everything is melted and fully mixed in, I fill my cup, and he snatches the other from me before I can fill his too.
***
On our second cup of hot chocolate, we sit outside and he lays his head on my shoulder, stretching his feet out as an audiobook plays. It’s a Christmas murder mystery and we’ve both already guessed who was behind the first killings.
“You sound like you read a lot of thrillers.”
“Nah, I’m just a really good observer.”
“I wonder which one of us will be right.”
“Don’t think we’ll find out tonight,” I say between a yawn, exhaustion suddenly weighing heavy on me. “I should uh . . . probably get going soon. Don’t wanna fall asleep on the road.”
He pouts, tugging on my arm and batting his long lashes at me. “I can fix us some coffee if it’ll keep you here another hour. The sun has barely started to set.”
“I know, baby, but I had an early day, and this lack of sleep is really catching up to me. I’ll get lots of rest tonight and be back tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Disappointment is heavy in his tone and he pulls away a little.
Pressing a kiss to his cheek, I yank him back against me. “Tomorrow will come quicker than you realize, and I’ll have those Christmas lights with me. Maybe some other surprises too.”
“What kind?” His face elates.
“You’ll have to see.”
“One more hour and you can tuck me in?” He leans back, rubbing a foot over mine.
I sigh. “Yeah, I can do one more hour.”
Twenty minutes later we’re back inside his kitchen, mixing sprinkles into rice crispy cereal and marshmallows in a glass bowl. I keep standing up straighter and widening my eyes to shake off my drowsiness.
“Want something else to drink? Want to take me up on that coffee?” His hand pushes against mine and I move a little so he can scoop everything into a pan.
“Sure. I can make it and you can finish up here.”
He waves me away. “Nah, I want to practice some more on my own.”
“Okay, I’ll be here getting my hands stickier.”
He laughs, heading to the other side of the sink. “Sounds like you’re not too upset about that.”
“I mean, there are better ways, but if I have to start here to get there, then I will.” I wink and he laughs some more, laying a hand down on the counter and sliding it to the left until hereaches the black machine. My attention goes back to the mushy stuff beneath my hand, and I use a spatula to flatten out the top, smoothing everything more evenly in the pan.
“How’s the dessert coming along?” He lifts a steaming mug in the air and I smile, shifting to the sink to wash my hands.
“Almost ready to eat.”
“Great. I’ll put the top on and set it in the fridge.”
“And I’ll sit on the couch and drink this while you do.”
“Okay, and while you’re doing that you can think of what else we should do in the last thirty minutes you’re here.”
“I can think of a few things already.” I waggle my brows and take a sip of my drink, my feet slowly making their way toward the living room.
Chuckling, he covers the dessert, and as I’m sitting down, the fridge opens before slamming shut. “Want to share what those are?”
I pat the space beside me loud enough for him to hear my palm slapping the cushion. “Come closer and I’ll tell you.”
