“What d’ya think?” Killian asks me, his arms banding around me from behind.
I meet his gaze through the mirror. “I love it! Thank you.”
“Glad you like it.” His beard tickles the sensitive skin of my neck as he presses a kiss there. “Why a butterfly?”
“When I was little, I must’ve only been eight or nine, my grandmother took me to a butterfly farm. I remember being completely awestruck. Hundreds of butterflies flying around your head, all different sizes and colours. It was beautiful.Peaceful. I reached out to point at something and one landed on my finger, it was the most striking colour blue, exactly like this,” I tell him, pointing at the tattoo.
I reach for the butterfly dangling from my neck. “She bought me this necklace from the souvenir store, and I’ve never taken it off.”
“You and her were close?”
I nod. “She made time for me when my father was too busy with work and my mother was too invested in keeping up appearances to care. Most of my fondest memories of when I was little were made with her.”
“I’d love to meet her.”
“I’d have liked that, but she uh… she died of a heart attack a week after we went to the butterfly farm. I wasn’t allowed to go to her funeral. It’s not a place for children,my father said. I never got to say goodbye to her.” My eyes meet the floor as I force back the urge to cry. “It’s just one of the many thingsI resent my father for.”
His arms go around me as I rest my head back against his solid chest, his lips pressing to the top of my head. “I’m so sorry, baby.”
I let my eyes drift closed, enjoying the feeling of being wrapped up in the warmth of his body, the safety of his arms, a place that’s quickly starting to feel like where I belong.
“Christmas was her favourite time of year,” I continue. “It was mine too until she died. She always did her best to make it magical for me. Since then it’s never been the same.”
“Spend Christmas with me,” Killian says.
My eyes snap open, lifting to his through the mirror. “What?”
“We all get together at Ray and Rita’s house on Christmas day. She and some of the girls cook up the best fucking Christmas dinner you’ll ever taste in your life. We drink and dance and play stupid games,fucka couple of the guys even butcher a few classics on karaoke.” He laughs, spinning me around in his arms to face him. “Come. I want you there, with me.”
I lift onto my toes and press my lips to his. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
35
“Merry Christmas!” Rita greets as Killian and I step inside the house. A Mrs. Claus apron is thrown over her knee-length red floral dress, and a Santa hat perched on her head.
“Happy Christmas, Ri.” He embraces her in a hug.
She stretches up, placing a kiss on his cheek before she turns to me. “Kaia! What a wonderful surprise it is to see you.”
My eyes flick up to Killian and back to Rita. “Killian didn’t tell you I was coming?”
She shoots him a look. “No, he didn’t.”
“Oh, God, I don’t want to impose.”
She lays a gentle hand on my arm, giving me a warm smile. “Nonsense, dear. You’re more than welcome, and there’s plenty of room and food to go around.”
“Thank you.”
Killian grabs my hand, leading me through the hallway. “Not so fast, Killian,” Rita calls behind us and he groans.
She grabs an identical Santa hat from the bag by the door. “Everyone else is wearing one. You should know by now it’s a requirement in my house on Christmas day.”
Killian sighs, shaking his head with a small smile before he bows, allowing her to put the hat on him.
“Now your turn, honey.” She places the hat on my head and tugs it down so it stays in place. “There, much better. Go on and put your coats and shoes in the closet. Everyone’s in the living room, help yourselves to a drinks.”
“Thanks, Ri.”
