Page 60 of Italian’s Christmas Acquisition

And she would just have to hope that the sort of magic that had enticed him to get a Christmas tree would bloom into the sort of magic that would keep them happy forever.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

SLOWLY,SIGNSTHATanother person lived in his home began to creep in. It wasn’t only the Christmas tree. That was gone by the day after Christmas. He had to have some respects for his own rules. But she began to cook for him, which meant keeping food in the house, rather than simply ordering up every time he wanted something.

She collected pots and pans and other gadgets.

There were places for everything. It was clean.

And yet, sometimes something would be left in a place that he didn’t leave it, and it was a bit jarring.

He wasn’t accustomed to it.

He didn’t hate it.

She was... Changing things inside of him fundamentally. Making him want to change, to compromise, even. To find a way to be close to her, and not simply shut away in a fortress.

And he didn’t know what to do with that.

She had a binder with all of her wedding plans in it, and he came home one day to find it all spread out on a new coffee table in the living room.

She was sitting there, chewing on a pen and looking at things. “I don’t think there are enough flowers.”

He lifted his brow. “Have you met me?”

“My wedding isn’t going to be minimalist.” She sighed. “I do wish we could have it at the Christmas tree farm.”

She sounded wistful. And the truth was, he was in this moment the same man who had demanded that a Christmas tree be delivered at eleven thirty at night on Christmas Eve, and they could easily have their wedding at the Christmas tree farm. But for some reason, he didn’t want to allow it. For some reason, it felt like too much of a shift. Too much of a compromise.

“If only,” he said. “But the venue is booked.”

She looked up at him and squinted. “Of course. I mean, I would think that with money like yours the real barrier is that you want to impress the people who are coming with a city venue?”

“You are quite comfortable spending my money,” he said.

She drew back as if wounded. He hadn’t meant to hurt her. He did that sometimes.

He was... He only knew how to be alone, he supposed. But she was here now, and he had to learn to be with her. He wanted to learn.

“Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to imply that the cost didn’t matter.”

“No,” he said. “I’m the one who was mistaken. I shouldn’t have said it like that. I did not mean it.”

“Oh.”

She looked around. “I made a little bit of a mess.”

“You live here,” he said, though he said the words with some difficulty.

“You almost mean that!” she said, laughing just slightly and he felt some of the tension in him ease.

The problem was, he often felt caught between his desire to maintain his boundaries, and his desire to give her whatever she wanted. Whatever would keep her with him.

He suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of urgency. To keep her with him. To do the right thing. If he didn’t, he would be left alone again, and now he had changed so much he did not think he could face it.

What an uncomfortable thing.

To have changed so much he could no longer find solace in solitude.

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