Page 65 of Love Letters to Christmas

“A classic.” He sets the tray down beside me. “Tomorrow, I think I’ll try coffee crumble, chocolate, or banana nut.” He fixes a stray lock of my hair, practically combing his fingers through the loose strandslovinglybefore pulling away. “Let me know which you want most. I’m gonna clean up the kitchen while you enjoy your breakfast.”

As my bedroom door shuts behind him, I know I will be doing no such thing.Thiscannot be what he meant when he said he’d take care of me between now and the masquerade ball.

I won’t survive two days of being woken up to breakfast in bed. Guilt is already petitioning a riot inside me, and I want nothing more than to go clean up the kitchen myself. The urge to apologize for being trouble is so compelling I’m practically forgetting that he is the one who walked into my room while I was asleep.

That’s surely a red flag. Even though it’sBrian. And Brian is the greenest flag in the history of the world.

Isn’t he…?

Scrambling, I reach for my phone and text Ceres.

Amelia: Is it normal for someone to walk into your bedroom without permission??

Ceres: Yes.

I…don’t know why I thought she’d say anything else. What if Brian—my perfect, precious Brian—is taking notes fromMars? Mars makes Ceres meals all the time, and he clearly doesn’t understand invasion of privacy.

Which means this isnota red flag. This is Brian taking advice from abad influence. In an effort to…towoome.

Heat explodes in my face, and I dare to look at my tray offood.

I don’t want it to go cold, not after he’s worked so hard on it.

I’ll find a way later to make it up to him. Maybe I’ll wash his car or move the couches and vacuum under them.

Right as I’m taking my first bite of egg, a vacuum turns on in the other room, and I feel myself slip toward insanity. There is no way. There is simplyno wayhe is vacuuming under the couches right now.

Setting my food aside, I sneak to the door, peek down the hallway toward the living room, and gasp before tucking back into my room.

He. Is.

He is literally vacuuming underneath the couches.

When the vacuum turns off, I hear the dishwasher cycling. So. That means the kitchen is clean, too.

“Oh, hey, A-mail-ia,” Brian says, casually and suddenly at my doorway.

I squeak and launch myself back. Heart heavy, I clutch my footboard for dear life.

His gaze slips down across my nightgown, then back up to my eyes. He smiles and angles himself beneath the doorjamb so I can see a hamper propped against his hip. “I’m starting a load. Do you have anything you want me to throw in?” Sunshine has never looked quite thisevilbefore. His attention flicks to my mostly-untouched tray of food. “I hope you’re enjoying breakfast.”

I amnotenjoying this horror story, actually, and you, sir, know it. “You can’t do this,” I whisper. “I-I’ll have to contribute at work.” I’m going to wash his car tonight while he’s distracted with dinner. I’ll find a way to help. He can’t bar me fromeverythingfor two solid weeks. He justcan’t.

A funny look creases his brows. “I’m not sure I understand what you mean?”

“Have you been talking to Mars?”

“Not regularly. He sometimes sends me weird questions; I answer them; he doesn’t reply. I wish he’d mail more, but, well, to my knowledge he usually only sends ransom notes, and I already have you, so what else could he possibly put a ransom on that would affect me? My sister, Brianna? He can keep her.” Brian’s gaze falls on my laundry basket in the corner. He points. “May I?”

I shake my head. “I’ll do it. There’s…unmentionables. Alady’sunmentionables in there.” Because I’m a woman, remember? Awoman. “We need to establish a line.”

He hums. “The line is that you’re not allowed to doanythingfor me for two weeks. You are allowed to work. You are allowed to clean up after yourself. But nothing, at all, for my benefit at home.”

I shrink. “I very deeply hate that line.”

He lifts a shoulder. “I know. Which is why I’m removing temptations. I need a few more things to make a full load and thus bar your ability to do my laundry.”

I cover my mouth with a shaking hand. “I wouldnever. Those areyourunmentionables. It wouldn’t be decent for me to do them unless I was y-yourwifeor something!”

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