Page 70 of Christmas Wishes

“You seem uncomfortable in your home. Especially in this room.”

I winced. Keaton wasn’t wrong, but it hurt to hear someone else acknowledge it aloud. Nico’s house had always felt like my second home until Nico was no longer in it. The life had left the building that had been a sanctuary for me when other parts of my life had become too much. “You’re not wrong.”

“All of this is Nico’s furniture and belongings, right?” He gestured to the framed fly-fishing lures and cactus art.

A moment of relief passed through me that we weren’t talking about us—I didn’t want to hear him say that it’d been fun and he wished me a good life—but then a different weight settled like a rock in my gut. I’d avoided this conversation with Doris, but Keaton had dodged my defenses. I couldn’t form words, so I nodded.

“I’m guessing it’s not because you haven’t had time to move your things in,” he said gently. It was the same tone I’d used with him on the mountain yesterday.

I dropped my head back against the couch and sighed while trying to lower my hackles. The urge to shut down the conversation was strong, as it had been any time Doris had danced around the topic. Keaton wasn’t asking out of judgment. He might be the best person to talk to about it because he’d never known Nico and hadn’t seen me at my darkest points. He brought a fresh perspective to the situation, and it would serve me well to at least listen. He was leaving tomorrow, so I didn’t have to do anything beyond that.

“My lease came up for renewal when Nico was starting to really go downhill last summer, and we knew he had little time left. That was when he told me he was leaving me not only the business but the house. So I tossed most of my stuff into a storage unit and moved my essentials into the guest room to help take care of him.”

“And you’ve been surviving ever since,” Keaton said sadly as he stroked one finger between Joule’s ears.

I opened my mouth to argue or justify myself orsomething, but I closed it. Surviving. I tried that word on, and, wow, yes, it fit.

Keaton quietly petted Joule while I let his words sink in.

“You’re right.”

Keaton lifted his compassionate gaze to mine. “There’s nothing wrong with that, and it hasn’t been very long. Cut yourself some slack. It’s a hell of a lot to not only take over a business, to have someone close to you die, but also to live in the place you knew as theirs for so long. I get why you haven’t moved your stuff in yet.”

“It’s not just that. I—” My eyes stung as I attempted to vocalize the thoughts that had lurked unspoken for months. Keaton had trusted me yesterday, and I could trust him now. “What if the changes I make erase Nico?” I knew it didn’t make sense, but I’d been so afraid of it.

Keaton carefully moved Joule to the recliner arm, then joined me on the couch. He tucked himself close as I wrapped my arm around his shoulder. “Oh, honey. Grief fucking sucks.”

That pulled an unexpected laugh from me. “It does. You probably think I’m being ridiculous, living in a shrine to a dead man.”

Keaton clucked his tongue. “No, you’re living in a space that’s brought you comfort for years and holding on to memories that bring you happiness when you’re sad. There’s nothing ridiculous about it. I don’t think it’s a long-term solution, but I get why you’ve left things as they were.”

Having his understanding, his compassion, healed a gaping wound in my heart. “Thank you.” My voice cracked, so I cleared my throat. “I don’t disagree that this isn’t suitable for the long term. What would you do in my situation?”

Keaton hummed. “I haven’t been in your situation, so I can’t fully understand the pain you’re experiencing, but I have a suggestion.”

“I’m all ears.” I dropped my head onto his and soaked up all the comfort he offered. Working through my grief would be easier if Keaton was around every day. I needed to take what I could now because it needed to last me a while.

Keaton shifted to face me. “I don’t think the solution is getting rid of his stuff to move yours in. You can blend the items of his that bring you the most joy while adding your own belongings. The TV, for example. You brought yours in, but you could shuffle things around to make it more central instead of something you plopped against an empty wall without disturbing anything.”

I’d been so focused on the binary of getting rid of Nico’s things to make room for mine that I hadn’t even considered combining them.

Keaton rose from the couch. “Let’s use this room as an example. Do you have your own couch and chairs in storage? Do you prefer those or Nico’s?”

I studied the room with a fresh perspective. “Nico’s recliner is better.” I’d never sat in it, but I couldn’t imagine the room without it. “My couch is more comfortable. It’s an L-shaped sectional with a chaise on one end.” Nico’s three-seater sagged in the middle.

With hands on his hips, Keaton moved to the center of the room. His attention bounced between the couch and the TV. Since Nico had never been much of a television guy, that was the one big thing I’d moved in with me. “You could put the couch against the wall where the TV is, then move the TV where the sideboard is. Then, the sideboard could go in the dining nook or hallway by the front door. Both the couch and recliner would have great views of the television.”

I stood and tried to picture what he was suggesting. Huh. It would work. Certainly, a hell of a lot more comfortable to relax in after a long day.

“And if you didn’t want to get rid of his couch, you could move it upstairs to that landing outside the bedroom. You could make it a lounge area for the Airbnb guests so they’re less likely to use your space down here.”

As he mentioned that, I realized I tended to hide out in my bedroom more when there were guests present. “That’s brilliant.” I shook my head. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of it. No, actually, I could. Keaton was much cleverer than me at this. “Seriously, brilliant. I’m going to do it.”

Keaton reached out and squeezed my bicep. Then he squeezed it again when I flexed, a little smirk playing on his lips. “Let me help. We worked on my trauma yesterday. Time to work on yours?” His eyes twinkled playfully, but there was still compassion there.

“All right. Hope your muscles aren’t too sore from yesterday because we have some furniture to move.”

“And hope yours aren’t too sore from last night.” He winked, then moved over to grab one end of the sideboard.

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