Page 72 of Love Letters to Christmas

At her.

Because she had frosting on her hand, and now it’s on her cheek. The little heart-shaped and red-sprinkled smear sits seductively upon her rosy flesh, taunting. Were we alone, instead of in this conference room packed with coworkers, I do not know what I would do.

Which is why instead of mentioning the flirty little smudge, I leave it and calculate whether it might survive long enough for us both to get back in the mailroom together.

Unfortunately, while I’m picturing unseemly behavior taking place in the most passionate place on earth, Amelia realizes she has frosting on her cheek.

“Oop,” she says, cutely, and gets a napkin.

I, naturally, pout, life ruined.

Her eyes find me, and she tenses, folding the frosting heart away in her napkin. “Is everything okay?”

No, actually. I’m sad and dying. I sigh, casting a forlorn look toward Frank’s dragon castle. “I’m fearing that calling this a contest was a bad idea. There’s a clear winner, but my co-judge doesn’t agree.”

“Your…blind co-judge?”

“It’s calledbeing inclusive.”

“It’s inclusive to put someone in a position with tasks that their disability makes impossible?”

I blink. “She’s having fun instead of sitting in her office, grumbling over whatever she eats for lunch, so yes.”

“She’s eating her husband’s…house.”

It is so kind of Amelia to call whatever I’m looking at ahouse. “Yeah, I’m pretty positive he made it with all her favorites in mind. The point was, really, this outcome. Luring her in to havea little fun every once in a while is good for her.” I smile as Will steals some frosting off her lip. Lucky them.

Amelia and I should get married in a courthouse like they did and have our proper wedding later. Then we can be all lovey-dovey at work, too.

“How do you do it?” Amelia asks, and I find myself requiring an antecedent.

“How do I do what?”

“Think about everyone else, so much, all the time?”

I know she’s not suggesting my manipulation is some kind of commendable act. Except, I think she is. She’s truly too good to me. Plucking one of her letters off her display, I touch the corner to my lips and smile. “If you’re asking, I’m pretty sure you already do.”

Her chin dips. “No… I really don’t.”

“If you want to, what’s stopping you?”

“What if I only think I want to because I like the idea of being a good person, but really I don’t want to and all I want is the high?”

What if I’m stunting Amelia’s potential as a philosopher by keeping her stowed away in the mailroom at Whirlwind Branding? “I think you’re a good person,” I say instead of worrying about allthat.

“I’m not.”

“Do you think I’m a good person?”

She nods, and her brown eyes lift. “Absolutely.”

“Well, I’m not.”

Her lips part, and if I were a better person, I think I’d feel worse about directly shattering her worldview. I don’t.

I say, “If you’re only after a high, you only worry about appearances. Still striving for something that goes beyond surface level is what counts. It’s easy enough to look good and present goodness to other people. Some of the darkest monstersout there manage it long enough to do some really frightening damage.” I take a bite of gingerbread, chew, and swallow. “Give yourself some grace, Amelia. People don’t care if you’re good. They care if you’re kind, and people don’t care why you’re kind, because every single person in this world has ulterior motives and selfish thoughts. Love’s the only thing that diverges from that nature. And, if you’d do me a favor as someone who loves you, stop being so hard on yourself.”

“Someone who…” Breath leaves her, and her lips tremble as her eyes glass.

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