Page 84 of Miami Ice

“Beckham?”

“Yeah?”

“But are you mad at it?”

His deep laughter fills the air, and a happy shiver races down my spine. Beckham turns his head toward me, and I turn to look at him.

“No. I could never be mad at this,” he says, his voice low and his brown eyes practically liquid.

So. Many. Feelings.

And all of them are magnificent.

“But I can be mad at this lollipop that keeps poking me in the head.” He reaches up and adjusts the branch.

“Thank you for agreeing to do this,” I say, squeezing his hand in mine. “There’s something magical to me about lookingup at the tree and seeing all the ornaments from this point of view. I used to love to do this as a little girl. There’s something special about being in the dark, with only the tree lights on, and looking at it from this perspective. I always wanted to share this experience with someone. I’m just so glad that someone turned out to be you.”

“Me, too,” he says softly.

I shift my head so I’m back to studying the lights and ornaments. “I don’t know why I love this view so much. I’ll see the way a blue light reflects on an ornament, then how bright the red looks against a candy cane, things like that. It’s peaceful and beautiful to me. When I was little, it was like a whole different world underneath this tree.”

Winston moves up to us, drops his head on Beckham’s thigh, and settles in.

I glance over at Beckham and see that his mouth has curved up in a smile again and his other hand is now stroking Winston between the ears.

“I get why this view appeals to you. It’s just like you to see the magic in simply being underneath a Christmas tree. You not only see things other people miss, but you find the magic in them. It’s part of what makes you special.”

Just when I think I’m having all the feelings, I have some more from his sweet words.

“I would sneak out of bed and do this at night,” I confess, smiling at the memory. “I would lie under the tree and fall asleep. It just felt so cozy and safe.”

I feel Beckham’s gaze on my profile and turn to find he’s studying me. “Safe?”

I didn’t even realize what I had said until he zeroed in on it. I think on this for a moment, memories of my childhood come flooding back to me, and for the first time in my life, I truly view the memories as an adult. What’s interesting, though? Beckhamdoesn’t speak. He simply watches me, and it’s like he intuitively knows I need to process what is going through my head.

“Wow. I never deep-dived into this before, but yeah, safe. My parents—before they divorced—fought all the time. Like screaming and yelling and even throwing things.”

Beckham’s brow furrows when I describe my childhood, and I can tell he doesn’t like what he’s hearing.

I take a moment before continuing. “There were threats to leave on both sides. Which is terrifying to hear as a child. Mom and Dad apart? What would happen to me and Ella? Would we have a new home? When would we see Dad? Would I miss Mom when I was with Dad? But like clockwork, when it was the week before Thanksgiving, the tree went up. And before they would erupt into a fight, Mom would say it was Christmas, can’t we just have one Christmas without fighting? And somehow, they managed to shove it all aside until the holidays were over.”

Beckham squeezes my hand. “So you came to associate Christmas with being safe. You knew as long as it was Christmastime, there was a cease-fire.”

“Yes,” I say with amazement. “I never thought of it that way before. Maybe that’s why I love Christmas so much. Not only is it beautiful and magical, but for a brief month, it gave me hope. Hope for a normal family that loved each other.”

“You do have that, Georgie. You have Ella, and you love your mom and dad. They love you, I’m sure. They just don’t love each other, and that dynamic outweighed everything in the house.”

I stare at him, and a crease appears on the bridge of his nose.

“What?” Beckham asks.

“I knew you observed and listened, but you’re very astute.”

I swear he almost blushes from my compliment. Or is that the pink twinkling light near his forehead?

I decide I like the idea of him blushing shyly, so I go with that theory.

“I’m not like this for everyone,” Beckham confesses. “Outside of my family, I mean. I didn’t care about the girls I hooked up with. But something about you made me care.”

---