Page 44 of Baby, It’s Hot Inside

Clearly, what I need to do is proceed with my trip as if he’s not here. Just do what I was planning to do and try to ignore his presence the best I can.

I finish getting myself ready as much as I’m able without power, dressing in a pair of fur lined, candy cane striped leggings. They’re ridiculous and normally way too hot to wear in Saddle Creek, but I love them because they’re so festive and cute. In this situation, they’ll work perfectly to keep me warm enough.

I pair them with my favorite Christmas sweater which has ribbons and bells hanging off it. It’s delightfully tacky. No one ever accuses me of being a Scrooge. Then I put on my atrocious slippers that are basically just slipper socks covered in red, gold, green and white bows.

Earlier yesterday, I’d messaged Savannah and asked if she knew if they had Christmas decorations here at the cabin. She contacted the owners, and they directed me to the hall closet where I can pull everything out and get it started. Obviously, without electricity, the tree lights won’t sparkle, but I can still decorate.

Thank goodness for battery-operated Bluetooth speakers, too. I pull up my favorite Christmas playlist and get started on everything.

Half an hour later, I’ve got the tree put together—thankfully it’s pre-lit so no frustrations with untangling light strands. I sit myself down on the floor and tackle the ornament boxes. I like that they’re not just the customary glass globes and crystal balls. They have a variety of ornaments and setting them out in categories is half the fun. It does make me miss my own though.

Granted, my Christmas tree has already been up for several weeks. So, it’s kinda cool to get to decorate another one this year.

The front door flies open and I jump to my feet.

Snow billows in around Luca and Mabel. The pup shakes her body, spraying snow further around the room. I’m thankful I’m further away from them, so I don’t get covered.

Luca’s face is perfectly set into a scowl. He wipes off his feet, stomping them onto the inside rug, despite the fact that he clearly cleaned off the snow outside.

He glances over at me, then takes a double take.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asks.

“What does it look like I’m doing? Brushing my teeth?”

“Why the hell are you decorating when you’re not going to be here for Christmas? That makes no sense. Who gave you permission to use their decorations? I know you didn’t haul all this from home because I unloaded your car.”

I glare back at him, crossing my arms over my chest. “Because I love Christmas and I love decorating for Christmas and this makes me happy. Do you have a problem with that?”

“It still doesn’t make any sense. We’re only going to be here for a couple of days,” he says.

“I thought you were leaving.”

“Yes, well, I can’t get off the mountain. So, we’re stuck together.”

“You don’t have to be a jerk just because you hate Christmas,” I say, sitting back down and getting back to unwrapping all the ornaments.

“I never said I hated Christmas.”

“Then help me decorate.”

He starts to answer, then his phone rings and he shakes his head and walks off.

Ugh. I can’t believe I was thinking that maybe we could be friends or that I could possibly ignore him. I might have to put a bag over my head. Or maybe I could move the Christmas tree into the middle of the room and make him sit on the other side of it so I can’t see him.

I’ve nearly got the rest of the ornaments unveiled when the one in my hand catches me off guard. It’s a baby’s first Christmas ornament and one that’s clearly several years old. But for whatever reason, holding it brings up all those lost and lonely feelings. All the ones that have been nearly choking me lately. Where I feel like life is passing me by and I’m just staring out the window watching it. And I feel like my hands are tied and my mouth is taped shut and there’s nothing I can do about all the things I’m missing out on.

A sob chokes out of me and I swipe my hand across my eyes to wipe away my tears. But it’s too damn late. I feel his presence before I see him or he says anything. The warmth of another body sitting close to me.

Without a word, he picks me up and cradles me in his lap. He just holds me and lets me cry, which only makes the sobs come harder and faster. He rocks us gently, rubbing my back and making soothing sounds.

“It shouldn’t be you seeing me like this,” I say.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re my nemesis. You shouldn’t see me at my worst.”

He leans back, wipes a thumb beneath each of my eyes. “Do you really think I’m your nemesis? I thought you had to be a superhero to earn one of those.” His eyes narrow playfully at me. “Do you have a secret identity you’ve been hiding from me?”