Page 84 of A Taste of Chardonnay

“We lost so much time,” I admitted. He might not have known about the rift that he helped create between Brady and me, but the reality of it all was too much to keep inside.

Fanny jumped up and crawled into his lap. He scratched her under the chin, and she purred. “As someone who is losing time every day, can I offer you some advice?”

Never in my life would I accept advice from a man I despised for so long, but there was kindness in his tone, in the gentle way he pet Fanny, and her utter acceptance and affection for him.

The sound of dog food hitting the metal bowl echoed through the house. “I would love some.”

“Don’t waste any more of it. My biggest fear is I’m going to one day wake up and not remember anyone and not have said the things I should have said.”

“Brady said you told him you were proud of him. Seems to me you’re checking things off your list.”

He laughed gently. “He practically had to claw it out of me, but once it was out…” He sighed, looking relieved. “I felt lighter. Felt like maybe the time I have left, even if it’s a year, six months, a month, can be better than the seventy years that came before.”

“We can start now.” I placed my hand on top of his and smiled. It wasn’t forced, either. I genuinely hoped that however much time he had left on this earth, we could make it worth his while, and not just for him, but for Brady.

Brady walked in, concern contorting his features as his gaze took in my hand on Ron’s. “Everything okay?”

“Better than okay. Ron and I were just saying how this place would look so much better if you got a Christmas tree.”

“A what now?”

“You heard me,” I said. “Time for a little Christmas spirit.”

“And not the alcohol kind,” Ron said, joining right in with my subject change.

I smiled. “This kind of spirit is better.”

“No,” Brady said with absolute authority.

“Too bad we’re a team now, and I’m using my power to override your decision.”

His eyebrows drew together. “You can’t do that.”

“Want to bet?”

“I don’t want you two to fight about it,” Ron said.

This time Brady smiled and, with his eyes locked on mine, said, “It’s kind of our thing.”

My eyes popped open as Chardonnay’s warm body pulled away from me. The heat of the fire was officially gone. The lights of the Christmas tree—a battle Chardonnay won but only because I let her—fought with the morning sunrays filtering in through the blinds.

“Where are you going?” I asked, kissing her bare shoulder as I pulled her back to me.

“To go pop an Ibuprofen. Sleeping on the floor in front of the fireplace beneath the lights of the Christmas tree sounds great in theory, but my back is killing me.”

I laughed, burying my face into her neck, not letting her get up. “Couldn’t have to do with all those new positions we tried, could it?” Her vampire sex books were proving to be a great guide to mixing things up. I, for one, was eager every time she started a new one.

She squirmed in my hold. “Possibly. Either way, it is Christmas Eve, and I have a very long to-do list to get through before tomorrow.”

“Want help?”

She stopped trying to get away from me, and turned to me, eyes wide with shock. “You hate Christmas.”

“But you don’t.”

“I don’t want to force you to do something you don’t want to.”

“Coming from the woman who forced me to cut down a perfectly good tree and bring it in the house then smother it in lights and ridiculous ornaments.”

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