Page 82 of The Crush of Christmas Past
“You’re a tiny bit sick, don’t you think?”
Yes, Sunshine. Terminally into you.
“Completely deranged,” I agree, stepping closer. “And I haven’t even shown you the final gift yet.”
The one in the smallest box that poses the biggest risk.
Twenty-Six
Theo
“Holdup,Santa!”Islathrows up both hands like she’s trying to rein in a runaway sleigh. “I want to return the favor before you go any further.”
“You don’t have—”
“Oh, but I do.” She scrambles off the bed and makes a break for the door. “Hang tight. It’s in Asher’s room!”
“So, it definitely can’t be very big!” I call after her.
She shakes her head and groans, but her shoulders bounce with laughter.
As soon as she’s gone, I drag a hand down my face and glance at the last box.
Smaller than the rest. Lighter, too.
But its meaning?
Fucking tectonic.
Islaskids in a minute later, breathless and flushed, one hand tucked behind her back. Whatever she’s holding, the look on her face says she’s not ready to let it go.
She clears her throat, approaching with cautious steps. “Just know it was extremely last-minute, so it’s not the best representation of my work. Also, I didn’t have any of my tools with me, so it’s a little rough and I—”
There’s a tiny quiver in her voice that slashes through me.
“I could’ve done more—better—I wanted—”
“Sunshine.” I cut her off, stepping closer. “Didn’t we already establish what happens when you talk shit about yourself?”
Her mouth pops open. “I—”
“You’re brilliant.” Closing the final few inches between us, I frame her face with both hands. “And if it’s from you?” My thumbs sweep across her cheeks. “It’s perfect.”
Her breath catches. Mine tears its way straight out of my chest.
“Now,” I murmur, “be a good girl and show me.”
A small smile breaks through the restraint of her teeth. “Okay. Since you askedsonicely.”
With a sharp exhale, she squeezes her eyes shut and brings her hand forward to reveal a glass ornament.
Its surface glimmers with a soft, hand-painted watercolor scene.
Much like the woman in front of me, it’s delicate but bold as hell. Every brushstroke tells a story I’ve been replaying incessantly these past few days.
Snow-covered trees beneath a silver-streaked sky. A full-on blizzard swallowing the world. Two tiny figures, tangled in a kiss.
Not justany kiss.
