Page 87 of Every Beat of My Heart

“I’m happy for you guys. Truly. But I don’t want to see my brother making out in the dining room. I have to eat here for holidays—” Before Daphne could finish listing the items on her fingers, Jameson hooked her around the neck and gave her a noogie, “Brat.”

Daphne squealed as she twisted away from him. Then she swatted at him. “Now get out of here. We need to clean up, and we can’t do that if you’re distracting Claire.”

* * *

At home, I spent the rest of the day catching up on chores. I cleaned the house, started laundry, went grocery shopping, grabbed a tree stand, and graded papers. I’d just started dinner when I heard the rumble of a truck outside. I moved to the door, eager to see Owen and Jameson.

They carried the tree to the porch and leaned it against the siding. “We just need to trim the trunk. Then we’ll bring it inside. Set the tree stand where you want us to put it.”

“I have it set up in front of the window.” I gestured at the bay window.

“That’s good,” Jameson said as he handed Owen the saw and asked him to trim an inch off the bottom. “This will allow the trunk to absorb water.”

When the tree was trimmed, I propped the door open so they could carry it inside. It smelled like pine needles. “I never realized how much I love this scent.”

Jameson grinned. “It’s the best part of having a real tree.”

They got it settled in the base, and Jameson held it while Owen screwed it in.

I loved that Jameson trusted Owen enough to let him take the lead on things like this. I could see Owen’s confidence growing every day. It made me appreciate Jameson’s role in our life even more.

“You want to decorate it?” Jameson asked me.

“Dinner’s in the oven. I’ll need to check on it, but we can get a head start on trimming the tree.” I moved toward the boxes I’d brought up from the basement earlier in the afternoon, opened the flaps, and pulled out the lights.

Owen took the strings from me and worked to untangle them.

For the first time in forever, I was excited to decorate the tree. It didn’t feel like one more thing I had to check off the to-do list.

“You want to start at the bottom zig-zagging the lights through the tree quadrants, placing some deep and others on the edge of the branches to create depth,” Jameson told Owen.

I laughed. “I didn’t know there was an art to it.”

Jameson winked at me. “There’s most definitely an art to holiday decorating.”

“It must be in your blood,” I teased.

“My mom loved the holidays. She was the one who decorated the house from top to bottom and insisted that the porch be decorated, not only for the customers who visited the farm, but for us. She didn’t want us to get tired of the season because we sold trees.” Jameson’s tone was affectionate.

“She sounds like a wonderful woman,” I said as I pulled out ornaments and carefully placed them on the coffee table to hang once the lights were strung.

Jameson nodded, his face turned toward the tree. “She was.”

Owen cleared his throat, feeding the next set of lights to him. “I’m sorry you lost your mother.”

“It was a long time ago. I was around your age. It was hard, but I had my dad and my siblings. I didn’t go through it alone.”

I felt a sharp stab of pain in my side. I hoped Owen didn’t worry that something would happen to me. If it did, he would be alone since he didn’t have any siblings.

Jameson placed the last strand of lights, then gestured toward Owen. “Why don’t you turn it on so we can see how it will look?”

He eagerly flipped the switch, and we took in the sight of the tree in the window. Anyone could see it from the street, but it cast a warm glow on our small living room.

I already had a fire started in the fireplace and soft music playing from my phone.

“I almost forgot. I brought you some garland for your mantle and the windowsills,” Jameson said moving toward the door.

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that.”

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