Page 70 of Owning Emma

Chapter 33

EMMA

It wastwo weeks before we were free of Bianca and had our house to ourselves again. She wasn’t a bother, really. But, having a house guest did put a damper on locations and times of certain extracurricular activities.

Roman said her staying at our compound was for the best, and I couldn’t agree more. Beyond our guarded home, she needed the break from Royal for a little while so that she could see he wasn’t as bad as her mind was trying to convince her heart. He had made some mistakes, but I knew he would never harm her family. The man who did, though? Well, I knew that situation would get handled, and I suspected it wouldn’t be clean.

Before I realized time was passing, Thanksgiving was upon us, and as the holidays approached, Shaw became more withdrawn. His humor died down and his jokes became sparse. Holidays were hard for him, from what Roman told me.

“Do you think he would want to help decorate?” I asked Roman the day after Thanksgiving when I finally started opening all the boxes of decorations I’d ordered online and let sit in their garage for weeks.

“He most certainly would not,” he confirmed as he took a sip of coffee and watched me place a glass ball onto the tree.

“Everyone loves Christmas!”

He cleared his throat and said, “Everyone does not love Christmas.”

“Everyone!” I insisted, and took the glittery star ornament from his hand as he passed it to me.

“How do you plan on getting the ornaments and topper on this tree, sweetheart? It has to be at least four feet taller than you.”

“That’s what my burly men are for.” I stood on my tiptoes, and he leaned down, kissing me.

“Even I can’t reach that far.”

“Shaw can.” I knew he could. He had so much height on all of us that it would be almost nothing for him to reach up and place the star on the top of the tree.

He sighed, rubbing his face with one hand. “Emma. Shaw doesn’t do the holidays. Until now, we never once decorated for it. I don’t even know how he is going to handle all this.” He gestured with his arms at all the garland and lights and sweet little figurines of deer and angels.

I froze mid-stretch toward the tree, unable to understand. “Of course he celebrates. He’s never told me differently.”

He shook his head at me like I was a dunce. “His mom died on Christmas eve.”

I blinked once, then twice. The story he had told me about his father murdering his mother came back to me. I knew, but I didn’t know the whole story, and I couldn’t bring myself to ask. I just thought . . . I thought maybe some cheer would tear him out of his funk, but I never considered it would take him deeper.

“We need to take this down,” I declared as I looked around the room, my day’s work spread out everywhere. “Now.”

“Emma . . .” Roman began but stopped at the sound of the front door opening and closing.

I panicked, spreading my arms out in front of the fake tree to hide it the moment Shaw walked in. He stopped at the doorway, his eyes falling to the far side of the room before they traveled the length to where I stood. He swallowed so hard, I saw his throat bob before one side of his lips tilted up. “The deer is a nice touch.”

I felt my pulse pounding, I heard it in my ears. My voice was weak as it left me, “Thanks.”

He bobbed his head before he walked out again. I turned back to Roman, a smile plastered on his face that he tried to hide behind his mug. “What?’

“Nothing.” He bit his lip, his eyes sparkling.

“Tell me now or I’ll sleep in my old room tonight.” A total threat that he knew by now I would never follow through.

“It’s just . . . what exactly were you trying to hide with your little toothpick arms sticking out when the whole tree is bigger than you in all directions?” This time, he didn’t even try to hide the smile.

Shit. I didn’t think of that. “I panicked. We need to take this down.”

“He already saw it, Emma. It will be fine. Just leave it, but keep the Christmas songs to a minimum.”

I wanted to sulk because Christmas music was part of what made the holiday so great, but that would be insensitive. If never hearing another Christmas song the rest of my life put him at peace, then I would be willing to suffer through it. “Do . . . do you think he’s going to be okay?”

He made a face like it all was no big deal. “He’ll be fine; he’s like this every year.”

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