Page 72 of UnLucky Christmas
His looks at me, and I narrow my eyes to glare at him. Without a word he steps toward me, picks me up, and starts kissing me. I wrap my arms and legs around him as he carries me to the couch. Our lips are moving so swiftly I can barely come up for air. He lays me down on the couch not removing his mouth from mine. My hands slide in his shirt, and I feel the muscles in his back tighten.
When our kissing finally slows, he stares into my eyes as he pushes my hair out of my face.
“I really have met my match.”
“I told you.” I reply, breathlessly.
“Do you really want your surprise now?”
Different thoughts begin to swirl through my mind, making me dizzy.
“Why do you think I’m here?” I say, placing another kiss on his lips.
He pushes himself off the couch. “I’ll be right back.” He grabs his keys and goes outside.
I sit up and fix my hair, trying to collect myself.
A few seconds later he comes in with a large skinny box and two shopping bags.
My mouth drops open.
“I promised you I’d get one,” he says sounding defeated. “And I didn’t want to set it up by myself.”
I leap up from the couch and run into his arms. He lifts me off the ground as I kiss him.
After he changes out of his dress clothes, we unbox the brand-new Christmas tree. We chat while we decorate, avoiding the subject of what happened at Macy’s house.
“I have a few questions to ask you.” I’m sitting on floor next to the tree putting hooks on ornaments.
A worried expression appears on his face.
“It’s not a bad thing,” I assure him. “I was wondering if you’d be my date for my Christmas Eve,Eveparty?”
He laughs. “So, you are inviting me. I’ve heard you mention the party a few times, but that was before you liked me.”
“Well, you’re not exactly a fan of social events,” I remind him.
“This is true. What’s your other question?”
I put my hands in prayer position. “Will you spend Christmas with me? It’s going to be difficult this year, and I’d love to have someone with me, especially at my mother’s Christmas Eve dinner.”
He doesn’t say anything for a few seconds.
“Please,” I add with a pout.
He stands up and runs his fingers through his hair. “Damn, I can’t say no to you. You have this crazy power over me. I’m even putting up a Christmas tree in my living room.”
I giggle.
“I haven’t had a tree since before my mom got sick,” he admits. “It was always her favorite thing to do, and it didn’t feel right when she couldn’t enjoy it anymore.”
A lump starts to form in my throat. “I’m so sorry.”
“This year has been different,” he tells me. “I went ice-skating, and I even put up with Macy’s annoying friends—present company excluded.”
“Why is this year different?”
He sits down on the floor next to me and props his elbow up with his knee. “Because of you.”
