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But I had to say something.

He was crouched down in the back of the truck when I arrived and jumped as I put my hands on the open tailgate.

“Hi!” I blurted, almost barking. Nice one, G. “Um, what are you doing?”

Sam motioned to the bed of fresh garland around him. “Just dropping these off for Pastor Aaron. He ordered more to go in front of the stained glass windows. I think he’s trying to boost spirits however he can.”

“Right.” I paused and drummed my hands on the tailgate.

Maybe I should’ve rehearsed before coming over here…

“Are you helping Nona out with more caroling stuff?” He came to the tailgate and sat down, his long legs almost reaching the pavement.

I pointed across the street. “No. Just Nico with some Christ-mas decorations.”

“Bit late for that,” Sam said, looking at the unfinished job.

“Well, Nico opened his big mouth and guilt-tripped Peggy about her shop needing more Christmas cheer, so…”

“Sounds like something Nico would do.” Sam chuckled.

“Totally.” I laughed, too, and looked down at my thumbs till the words found me. “Sam, about that night, when we—”

“Ate too many Italian wedding cookies and candy canes?” he mused.

I tilted my head. “Actually, you always eat too many candy canes.”

“I know, and yet…” He paused and took one out of his coat pocket, unwrapping some of it before sticking it in his mouth. “I just can’t stop.”

“Ha ha.” I hit his leg. “No, um, I was going to say when we went outside in the snow and…”

“Kissed.” He took a deep breath in and held it, watching me.

“Right.” I swallowed. “I was…well, I was wondering if”—just say it—“if you meant what you said about me being ‘it’ for you.” I exhaled loudly.

There.

That wasn’t so bad.

Other than the fact that my legs are shaking like crazy and I’m regretting that second coffee this morning…

Sam took the candy cane out of his mouth and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I meant it, but you’ve got this thing with James—”

“I don’t.” I swallowed. “I mean, we’re still trying to win over his dad, but not by fake dating or, um, real dating.”

His eyebrows scrunched together. “What about the Mistletoe Masquerade?”

“I told him I couldn’t go with him.” I stepped closer to Sam. “That it wouldn’t be fair to him.” Because I choose you.

Sam nodded and looked down like he was deep in thought. “I can’t believe I’m asking this, but is he okay? He…he’s a pretty good guy.”

“He is, and yeah, he’s okay. We’re going to be friends.” I smiled. “I think he needs a good one.”

Sam smiled, too. “Well, then he’s lucky to have you. I know I am.”

Something tightened in my throat at those words, and it hurt to swallow over it. “So, we’re…friends?”

“Of course.” He straightened up. “We always will be.”