Page 96 of Ask Your Mom If I'm Real

And that was exactly what I did while I watched them decorate his tree.

After some food, Anleigh had perked up enough to lift her head off of Jeremiah’s shoulder.

He hadn’t put her down since he’d taken her from me as soon as he’d seen my bruises my father had left on my throat.

And she’d loved it.

She pointed out the exact spot that every single ornament should go, and he’d humored her.

I eyed the bed, my gaze constantly being pulled in that direction, and wondered if it was as comfortable as it looked.

I’d always wondered what the insides of these apartments looked like.

Now I knew.

They were all open.

Every last bit of it was in one long room against the far wall except for the bathroom that was hidden from view, along with the laundry room and closet.

The main living space had a kitchen right when you walked in the door. To the right of the fancy kitchen was the living area and the windows that overlooked downtown. The real Christmas tree was directly in front of those windows, and to the right of the tree was the bed.

The bed looked like it was made of clouds.

“Crawl in,” came Jeremiah’s husky voice.

A delicious tingle tickled down my spine.

My eyes, that I hadn’t realized had fallen closed, peeled open.

I found him with a red ornament in one hand and my girl on his hip in the other.

“What?” I tried to blink and stay awake, but it was hard.

“Crawl in.” He gestured to the bed. “You know you want to.”

My cheeks pinked. “Actually, it looks like the best bed ever.”

“Jump in,” he urged. “Take a nap. I got her.”

I got her.

The only other person that had ever said that to me was Mrs. Rawls—Cinda.

His grandmother.

The person that’d raised him, apparently.

Cinda had talked so much about her grandchildren that I felt like I’d known them before I’d met them.

And Jeremiah Dixon was everything Cinda said he was.

Generous. Smart. Beautiful.

He was the whole package.

And he liked kids.

I wasn’t aware that there were men like that on the planet.

---