Page 94 of That Time We Kissed Under the Mistletoe
I swallow hard. “You do?”
His answering wink makes me blush.
As it turns out, actually getting everyone out the door takes another twenty minutes of putting awayice cream, tossing out plates, and hugging sticky faces. When Three and I come back in after walking the Monroe family out, I return to the table. More than half the sheet cake is gone now. Only half a pony left.
“Poor Applejack,” I murmur.
“Youdidsay Applejack was your favorite, right?”
“She used to be.” I nod. “But right now,youare.”
“So you didn’t think this was all too … juvenile?” Three wrinkles his nose. “I mean, you’re used to champagne towers and caviar, and I just threw you a kid’s birthday party.”
My heart swells. “Considering this is the only one I’ve had in twenty-nine years, I couldn’t have loved it more.”
“Ahem.” Three pulls down his brow. “Excuse me, Ms. Hathaway, but I believe you won’t be twenty-nine for one more day.”
“That is true.”
“I intend to make the next twenty-four hours all about you.”
“Oh, really?” My lip twitches. “What else did you have in mind, Mr. Fuller?”
He glances at the half-eaten cake then back at me. “My mission while you’re still twenty-eight is to let you be the kid you haven’t gotten to be in … maybe forever. So we’re going to do whatever YOU want to do. I’ll even submit myself to a candy cane jigsaw puzzle. Or checkers. If you choose chess, you’ll have to teach me … but I’m game.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.”
“Okay.” I splay my hands. “I made my decision.”
He chuckles. “Already?”
I flash him a smile, and my insides flutter. “Ice skating!”
“Wow.” Three bobs his head. “Nice choice.”
“Ever since we found that box of skates in the storage room, I’ve been thinking about how much I used to love to skate.” I dip into a prim little curtsy.
“If ice skating is what you want, then I say, yes. Let’s go. It’s been a while for me too.” His grin is dazzling, but a seam inside me splits straight down the middle.
On the one hand, skating with Three sounds even better than the birthday cake. But I can’t forget the doctor’s warning. He’s already been pushing too hard. Snowball fights, Christmas tree shopping, and spray painting are one thing. But ice skating with a man who has a concussion?
“Forget it.” I shake my head. “It wouldn’t be safe for you. We can do something else today. How about that jigsaw puzzle?”
He scoffs. “Nope, thanks. You made your pick and I’m going to make it happen.You’llgo skating, and I’ll get to watch.”
“But that’s not fair to you.”
“On the contrary,” he says. “Bringing you joy bringsmejoy. And based on the evidence I’ve gathered these past few days—plus some pretty spectacular memories from ten years ago—just watching you do things is pretty satisfying all on its own.” He meets my gaze, eyes locking with mine. “So what do you say, Bambi? Should we head over to the lake house and?—”
I launch myself at him, and he lets out all his breath in a whoosh. Then he gathers me in, wrapping his arms all the way around my body.
Pressed against him in a big, strong bear hug, I blink back tears. This man asks nothing of me. Expects nothing from me.
He just wants me to be happy.
“Yes,” I tell him. “Yes.”
