Page 15 of Love Letters to Christmas

Sipping lemonade out of the belly of a pineapple, I force myself to relax against the tree, too. No matter how hard I try, though, I can’t drag my attention off Brian as his gaze follows the plane.

“I think HR’s gonna hate me,” he says.

How could anyone hateBrian? “Why?”

“Loopholes.” His gaze flicks to me. “I can’t bring aswordto work, but Icanbring a sheath and a hilt. And, lucky me, people are making swords here. I can buy a hilt and a sheath, sans sword.” He knocks his shoes together. “But…what should I put in the sheath, I wonder…” His eyes close. “Maybe a water gun.”

I giggle.

His lips tip into an even brighter smile. “How’s the lemonade?”

“Amazing. Thank you for getting it.”

Brian waves a hand. “Of course. This whole thing was my idea, and you’re in the middle of saving money for your future.It’s only right that I treat.”

My stomach dips as I swallow, brutally reminded that living with Brian was never aforeversituation even if my job might be. Technically, I’m pretty sure I could afford my own place to stay right now. Whirlwind pays well, and that bonus I got would cover three months of rent. I could get an apartment easily.Right now.

I just hate the very idea of leaving my blue room in Brian’s home.

It’s the first place I’ve ever felt like…like I’m actuallyhome.

“Want some?” he asks, holding out his turkey leg.

Fighting emotion, I say, “No, thank you.”

His eyes fix on me, polished emeralds and field grass beneath dipped brows. “What’s wrong?”

I focus on my drink, trace the bumps of the pineapple cup. “N-nothing.”

“A-mail-ia.”

I wince. “It’s just…I forgot.”

“Forgot?”

I stare at the bottom of my pineapple cup. “I…forgot that I need to be looking for apartments or some place to rent.” I squeeze my eyes shut. “Sorry. I know it’s stupid of me to forget the whole entire point, but you’re so welcoming, and I’ve really enjoyed being around you, and—”

“You don’t have to look for somewhere else to stay.”

“What?” I find Brian’s face, bathed in sunlight and scattered rainbows.

He lifts the hand not holding a giant leg of turkey and swipes a knuckle beneath my eye, catching a stray teardrop. The awkward, distressed expression I saw him make during countless love letter rejections crosses his brows. A thread of pain ripples in his eyes. “Sorry.”

My heart rate accelerates as panic takes hold.

He pushes back the lock of hair not trapped in the extravagant braided bun I put together to go with this outfit, tucking it behind my ear. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like you had to leave.”

I know. I know he wouldn’t. Brian isn’t the kind of guy who would kick me out before I’m ready. But, still. “I’m positive I have enough money to move into my own place. I shouldn’t continue imposing on your kindness.”

“Mykindness?” He blinks. “You cook. And clean. And bake. I didn’t know so many muffins existed before you started making them for us to take as breakfasts. My kitchen floor was a different color until you bleached it. I thought it was supposed to be faded yellow until you made it white like a fresh envelope. What do you even meanmykindness? You’re working full time and doing an entire salary’s worth of housekeeping as though you owe me something. You don’t, Amelia. You just don’t. I should be paying you for your services.”

My mouth opens, but I can’t find words for the longest moment. When I finally do, they’re not exactly eloquent. “I…but… I’m not doing much of anything. It’s the least I can do to thank you. I…I used to do the same for my parents.”

Brian—my ever happy-go-lucky Brian—frowns. “I’m not fond of your parents, Amelia.”

My heart drops like a rock into my stomach.

“They didn’t treat you right.” He sets his turkey leg into the paper bowl that the fries we shared earlier came in. Wiping his hands on a spare napkin, he mutters, “It’s written all over you.”

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