Page 78 of Lighting Up Christmas

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“Is this atypical Christmas Eve?” he asked curiously later in the day, still buzzing about the morning with Riley and Jackson’s enthusiasm about the potential investment. They already had a tour booked with the broker, a contractor, and Riley the day after Christmas.

Riley looked up at him as she placed the Christmas-themed muffin cups in a shiny muffin tin.

“No,” she said. “Not at all. But I could make today a habit. It’s been spectacular so far.”

Because they were together?

“I am enjoying myself.”

She poured more coffee in his cup, and her smile dazzled him.

“Me too.”

“What would you normally do?”

“I’d probably be over at my aunt and uncle’s house or my dad and stepmom’s, depending on who’s hosting Christmas, helping out with anything or running errands. But Zhang, I don’t need normal. We can create our own traditions.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” She covered his hands with hers. “Today you set up an unconventional Christmas tree for me.”

“Created by you.”

“And then we went for a run, and you made plans to buy an old mill complex employing me and dozens of locals for years and then we collected the discarded stumps from the park cleanup to make a fairy circle in my yard and yours as part of a Zen garden for your grandfather.”

“Also your idea.”

“Stick around,” she urged. “I have a lot.”

He went to her then, took her into his arms like he’d wanted to for a while. “I’m counting on that,” he said softly. She fit perfectly, and the way she looked at him, her gaze so soft and warm and intent. He wanted to kiss her. Declare his intentions that he was not a casual man, but still there were things he needed to say.

“Most everyone has wanted to change me.”

“I don’t.”

“I work a lot. I get caught up in my ideas. I enjoy quiet and being alone,” he confessed. “I can go long stretches of time without speaking.”

Instead of arguing or sharing, Riley listened.

“And while I’m enjoying living on Fire Ridge—the land and the views and the solitude feed me—I’m still going to have to commute a day or two to my office in Cupertino most weeks.”

Riley nodded. “I fell in love with you, Zhang. You”—she pressed her palm over his chest—“not an imaginary person you’d become if I could get my hands on you”—she squashed her hands together—“like you’re a lump of clay.”

He stared at her, not sure he was processing her words correctly.

“You love me?”

Riley stood in front of him now, shoulders back, head straight, one palm over his sternum. Her eyes shone. “Yes. I kept denying it. I didn’t want to give voice to my feelings because I didn’t think you could ever love me back. I’ve always been the good friend, not the lover, but Sophia told me that it was because I kept putting myself in the friend zone. I didn’t act on it because I was afraid of being rejected.”

“That seems wise.”

Riley laughed. “It’s not. It’s good to take risks of the heart.”

He covered her hand with his.

“We’re going to mess up, Zhang. It’s part of the human experience,” she said. “And we are going to have to own it and apologize and listen when one of us screws up. We will also have to communicate. Let each other know what we want and feel.”

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