Page 32 of Oh No, My Best Friend Hates Christmas!

He bends his head to land a kiss on my temple, then drags his lips down further to my cheek, pressing in there as well. My eyes widen and my limbs go slack. I drop several inches before his arms are there, under me, lifting and supporting.

“Sleepover,” he grumbles, taking us up the stairs two at a time. I gasp.

“Another sleepover?”

He grunts.

Yes, obviously, you big giant moron.

I am, perhaps, taking liberties in my interpretation of that one.

Within five minutes, I find myself once again in Baz’s bed, clothed in one of his t-shirts, wrapped in his arms, and listeningto the gruff tones of his accent say the sweetest, most wonderful things to me.

It’s the best night of my life, and the hardest, too, as I remind myself over and over that any amount of love from Basil Cole is a gift, and I should not waste my time with him letting my greedy heart pine for more than he is able to give. I should be grateful he’s heaping any amount of love on me at all. I should take the bittersweet feeling erupting in my chest and welcome it for what it is – a reminder that even though I will never have everything I want, what I do have is pretty dang good.

Chapter Eleven

Basil is acting weird, and I don’t know why.

I gnaw at my lip as I sit on the couch, waiting for him to return from the mysterious errand he left for over an hour ago.

We started the day normal enough, getting ready and migrating downstairs, where Baz made breakfast for us while I made progress in my current read – who knew a book about a nightmare man could be so freaking sweet?

After we had breakfast, Baz declared he would “be back,” then refused to answer any questions about where he was going – or let me go with him – only nudging me to the couch, tucking me under a throw blanket, and handing me my book.He kissed my forehead, and then he was off for parts unknown.

I have not gotten any further in my book since he’s been gone. I have, however, successfully bitten off an entire layer of my lips and a good portion of my inner cheek.

Bazzy isn’t talkative by any means, but he never goes anywhere without letting me know where he’ll be, and he’s never not let me join him on an escapade before.

Is he upset with me? Was my weirdness yesterday a littletooweird? Does he want space but doesn’t know how to tell me?

I know I can be a little overbearing sometimes. A littletoo much. A little annoying. A little more than any reasonable person would want to handle or even have to be around all the time. It’s probably a miracle he’s lasted this long.

Another layer of my lips disappears.

They’re bleeding in two different spots by the time he finally walks through the door.

I jump up from the couch, rushing to him as he pauses inthe entryway. I open my mouth to interrogate him about where he’s been, but it snaps closed when I notice the pet carrier in his hands.

Did he…

“Is that a puppy?” I ask, curious and maybe a wee bit excited. He shakes his head as the faintest, cutest littlemeowsounds from the carrier.

Oh. My. Gosh.

“You got the kitten?” I yell, leaping the last of the distance between us. “Bazzy, you stink! I wanted to help with that!”

I make a grab for the kitty prison, but he swoops it up out of the way.

“Hey!” I yell, jumping for it. “Come on! I want to see them before they go live with Stryker and Millie, and I only have visitation rights!”

Baz’s hand lands on my forehead, pushing me back and holding me away. I run in place for several embarrassing moments, trying to get closer before giving up and choosing a new strategy – pouting.

“Baaaaaz,” I whine. “Why can’t I see the marriage kitty?”

My bottom lip juts out as far as I can get it, the raw skin smarting against the stretch.

“You’re not going to show me before taking it to Stryker? What, you don’t love me anymore? You don’t want me to be happy?”

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