Page 24 of Till Cupid Do Us Part

She winks. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Niko.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, angel.”

“As much as I love watching you work, I was hoping I’d wake up in bed beside you this morning.”

“Missin’ me already?”

“Don’t get a huge head about it.”

“Too late.”

I lift the shovel and head up the sidewalk, making note of every section where ice has built up so I can spread ice melt on it before she slips.

Ivy watches me with soft eyes. “So, did you get me a present?”

“’Course I did.”

“Can I have it?”

“Not yet.”

“Really?”

“It’ll be worth the small wait,” I promise while taking the steps up to her. “Got big plans for you.”

She bats her lashes and sets a hand on the chest of my thick jacket. “How long do I have to wait?”

“Till tonight. You can’t change my mind.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m positive. Now, go inside. You’ll get sick standin’ out here in the cold.”

“Fine. But you’re not off the hook yet,” she relents.

We move inside, and I lock the door behind us. The immediate heat blasts me in the face as I shed my jacket and gloves, leaving them by the door.

“Did you get me somethin’?” I ask, following her into the small kitchen.

She flicks all the lights on along the way. It’s a quirk of hers that I’ve had to grow to accept. The power bill doesn’t share the same appreciation.

The coffee brewing in the outdated machine sputters and fills the room with the rich scent of Ivy’s favourite grounds.

“Duh,” she states, reaching on her tiptoes for a second mug in the cupboard. I step against her back and grab it before handing it to her. She spins, smiling in thanks.

I smooth a hand down her arm. “When do I get my present, then?”

“When you say please.”

“Please.”

With a twinkling laugh, she slips free and disappears out of the kitchen. I wait for her to return, busying myself with pouring her thick, strawberry-flavoured creamer into her coffee. By the time she gets back, I’m setting the stirring spoon on the countertop and nudging the light brown drink down the counter toward her.

The hot pink gift bag in her hand is stuffed full of glittering red paper. With every shake of it, the glitter flies through the room and coats the floor.

“Okay, so it’s just something cute and fun. If you hate it, I can change it out for something else. Junie helped me pick it out,” she rambles, offering me the bag.

Taking it, I carefully move the glittery paper aside enough to peer inside. The clear glass has me lifting a brow.

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