Page 33 of Christmas for Keeps

“I do too. I guess we’re not as young as we used to be.”

* * *

Our shower wasanything but virtuous, and we let out startled yelps when the water ran cold. But who the hell cared? We were in love, and we’d spent far too long apart. No wonder we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

I’d finally started to relax after our conversation at breakfast. If Zach hadn’t been with anyone else, it meant he’d truly loved me all along. We were both wounded, but genuine love has the power to heal. Talking openly and honestly were the keys to our future together. We had learned that not communicating with someone you care about, or assuming you know their thoughts, is a fatal blow to any relationship. It leads to pain, and we had endured enough of that.

After we got dressed, I found a message from the roadside assistance company saying they had towed my car. I called the dealership, and they confirmed it was there. The clerk promised to let me know about repairs within a day. “I hope it’s not too bad,” I told Zach after I disconnected. “I can’t afford to buy a new car.”

“Try not to worry. They’ll have to replace some things, but it didn’t look totaled.”

“I hope you’re right.” I sighed. “And that it doesn’t take too long to fix.”

“We’ll deal with it, babe. Together.” He glanced at the boxes still on the great room floor. “Want to finish decorating the house this afternoon? Then we can turn everything on tonight and enjoy what we’ve done.”

“Good call.” I looked out the window, and all the snow gave me an idea. “Know what I’d like to do first?”

He put an arm around my waist. “What’s that? We’ll do anything you want.”

“Could we please go outside and build a snowman? I can’t even remember the last time I did that.”

He gave me a wide smile. “Nowthatsounds like a blast. Let’s go.”

Despite the freezing temperatures, the sun cast a brilliant glow on the fresh snowfall, making everything sparkle. The mounds of snow, undisturbed except for what I assumed were the cat’s paw prints, beckoned to us.

Zach took charge, telling me to create the middle section while he worked on the bottom. As we shaped the snow, we couldn’t resist stealing kisses and playfully throwing a few snowballs at each other. Our laughter rang out in the crisp winter air. Eventually, we stood back to admire our handiwork: a charming snowman. I had made the head a bit too large, but Zach expertly sculpted it down, creating the perfect size to go with the lower sections.

“Are we done?” he asked.

I looked over our creation and shook my head. “He needs a face and something to hold. Do you have an old broom?”

“No. I threw the old one out when I bought a replacement.” He cocked his head. “How about a hockey stick? I have one somewhere.”

We went back in the house, and I found a big carrot in the fridge that would make a perfect nose. A few seconds later, Zach cried out, “Here it is!”

I found him rummaging through a closet and couldn’t resist a little snark. “Leave it to you to make our snowman a jock.”

He turned and showed me a black and silver stick. “Snowman, the hockey dude.” Smirking, he said, “That’s a big-ass carrot. Is he a horny snowman?”

I huffed and did my best eye roll. “You have a one-track mind. I’ll have you know this is his nose.”

He bobbed his eyebrows. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”

I shook my head in mock exasperation. “If you want him to have a dick, you need to make one out of snow. Now, what can we find for his eyes and mouth?”

Zach scratched his chin while he thought about it. “I have some marbles left over from a craft project I did last spring. Those should work.”

“For the eyes, maybe. What about his mouth?”

He took his turn doing an eye roll. “And there I was thinking you were smart. We’ll use several for his mouth. Curve them so he’s smiling.”

Back outside, we brought the snowman to life. Zach had been right that the carrot was too big for a nose, but he broke part of it off and it worked fine. The marbles were all black, and by the time we finished arranging them, the eyes and mouth looked great.

Finally, Zach reached for the hockey stick. “Now, for the pièce de résistance.” He maneuvered it into place, then wrapped an arm around my back.

“He needs a name,” I said. “What should we call him?”

“How about Nick?”

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