Page 57 of Mistletoe & Magic
I cross the kitchen and lean against the counter beside her. For a second, we just stand there, not speaking, like neither of us wants to break the moment.
“You okay?” she asks.
“Yeah,” I say, meaning it. “Better than okay.”
I reach out and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. My fingers brush her cheek, and she tilts her face toward my hand, her breath catching just slightly.
“You were amazing today,” I tell her. “With the customers. With Junie.”
Her lips curve. “You were pretty great yourself.”
Something inside me loosens. I didn’t realize how tight I’d been holding everything until this moment with the farm, all the responsibility, the fear of letting someone into my space. I’ve been protecting this space for so long that letting my guard down hasn’t been easy.
I step closer, my hand sliding to the back of her neck.
“It feels like you’ve always been here,” I admit, my voice low. “Like this is how it was supposed to be.”
She swallows hard, her eyes shining. “Remy…”
I kiss her then, slow and deep, because there’s no way to say what I’m feeling without it.
She rises on her toes, pressing closer, and I can feel the smile against my mouth when I cup her face and kiss her again.
“I’m glad you’re here, and I’m sorry I was a dick to you at first,” I say when I finally pull back, breathing hard.
“Good,” she whispers and reminds me, “because I’m not going anywhere.”
That reminder hits me right in the chest. I rest my forehead against hers, just breathing her in, letting it sink in that she’s really here, that she wants this. I need the reminders.
“Come sit with me,” I say, nodding toward the couch.
We curl up together under the throw blanket, her head on my shoulder, my arm around her. The house is quiet except for the crackling of the fireplace.
For the first time in a long time, I feel like the future might actually look better than the past.
And with Ivy pressed against me, warm and soft, I can’t wait to find out what comes next.
Ivy is in my sweatshirt and soft leggings, bare feet on the bathroom tile, brushing her teeth at the sink. Her hair is loose and wild from the shower, damp at the ends, a natural and careless kind of pretty that makes my chest feel tight. She catches my reflection in the mirror over the sink and smiles with her eyes before she smiles with her mouth. Toothpaste, foam and all. I don’t know why that undoes me, but it does.
“Hi,” she says around a mouthful, and it comes out like a laugh.
“Hi.” I lean on the doorframe with my arms crossed,pretending I am not staring. “You leave the cap off that toothpaste again, and we are going to need a serious talk.”
She pulls the toothbrush out, rinses, spits, and flicks a little water at me with her fingers. “Or what? You’ll punish me?”
I push off the door frame and come up behind her, palms sliding over the front of the counter on either side of her hips. My chest fits against her back. She smells of clean skin and the vanilla stuff she used in the shower. I meet her eyes in the mirror, and for a second both of us go quiet.
“No, because you seem to like punishment,” I say, my voice low, not meaning to say anything at all, but there it is. “I like this with you, even when you’re a brat.”
Her smile softens. “Me, too.”
I press a kiss to the curve where her neck meets her shoulder. She shivers, not from cold, and I feel it everywhere. My hands find her waist. Her hands cover mine. In the mirror, my sweatshirt hangs off one shoulder, and I am a goner for the sight of her in my clothes. I let my mouth trace a slow path up the line of her neck to the corner of her jaw. She tilts her head to make room for me, and the small sound she makes is grateful and a little greedy.
“Careful,” she whispers. “Junie is asleep.”
“I know,” I say, but I don’t move away. I kiss behind her ear and feel her melt back into me. The mirror catches everything. The way my hands span her hips. The way her eyes go heavy and half-lidded. The way I am not trying to hide a single thing anymore.
She turns in my arms and hooks her fingers into the front of my sweatshirt. The counter nudges into the small of her back. We are close enough that breathing feels like a choice. I tip my forehead to hers and taste the last sweet hint of mint on her breath.
