Page 67 of Under the Mistletoe
“Think about it. You know I love having you around.” He grins, not pressuring me, and I smile. It feels perfect.
“We can get Gordon to pack up everything while we’re in Milan and move it for us. Ensures the media aren’t photographing your life at every instant.” I nod at that. It makes sense. But then I frown.
“What?” His hands rest on my waist as he steps up to me. The two of us are never apart for very long or not touching regularly.
“Well… it’s just…” My eyebrows pinch as I think about it.
“What?”
“Do you think we can stay here tonight? The last few Saturdays the neighbors have made this delicious eggplant parmigiana… and I thought I wrote it all down last week, but I missed something…”
Donovan barks out a laugh before he pulls me close, looking deep into my eyes.
“You’re amazing, you know that, right?” His eyes twinkle, happiness overtaking his entire face.
“So that’s a yes?” I grin right back, not able to contain my excitement at moving in with him.
“I don’t think I could ever say no to you.” He kisses me then, before wrapping his arms around me tight and lifting my feet from the floor, walking us over to my bed, and ensuring that I miss the dinner prep today as well.
Donovan grabs my bag as we take the elevator up.
“Is it weird that my entire wardrobe is at your place at this point?”
After I packed a few things last night, Donovan and I positioned ourselves next to the window, watching the old Italian woman next door make her eggplant parmigiana. I was right, I was missing a few things from her recipe, and now I can’t wait to make it this week. I tried not to think too hard about the fact that my billionaire boyfriend sat next to me, spying on the neighbor so intensely to ensure I wrote everything down. It was the funniest, most heartwarming thing anyone has ever done. He didn’t judge me. He didn’t think it was ridiculous. Didn’t look down at me. It was actually nice to have him in my space.
“Well, you've been bringing things over for weeks, so most of what you use is already here.” He doesn’t meet my gaze, because he failed to add the detail about him buying me an entirely new wardrobe, and I didn’t miss that this week there were also the additional men’s business shirts just for me to wear around the house.
He strides inside, placing my bag down, and I watch him as he grabs the TV remote and turns on the twenty-four-hour news channel. News from Asia fills the room.
“Anything new?” I ask as his eyes focus on the TV, and I walk to the kitchen to grab us a drink. But then something that looks entirely out of place, not in line with his aesthetics, his personality, anything, catches my eye. I swallow roughly as I take a tentative step closer. Hanging there in the doorway to his kitchen is a small plastic sprig of mistletoe. Unlike at my childhood home, this one is new, no dust, a vibrant green, and bound by a piece of red ribbon so shiny it catches the light and makes the whole thing glow.
My heart shouldn’t thud like it is. My eyes shouldn’t start to water. But I know he has this here because of me. Because he saw the one at Uncle Bobby’s on Thanksgiving. Because he knows the history behind it and how it makes me feel to see it, to be kissed under it.
He never mentioned anything. There are no other holiday decorations around. No tree, no lights, and even though he has a few soft cushions and blankets on the sofa, the rest of this apartment is free of trinkets. Although luxurious, it has nothing in it that is particularly homely or warm.
This mistletoe is the only piece.
“Hey, you want a—” His voice cuts off as he walks toward me, my feet still frozen to the ground, my eyes unmoving from the plastic mistletoe.
I feel him step up beside me.
“Is this okay?” He’s tentative, and I look at him with teary eyes.
“You did this for me?” I know he did. He swallows and nods.
“I know you love the one at your aunt and uncle’s. I know that it signifies a lot of love in that house and reminds you that love exists. I want you to know that it exists in this house too.”
“I have no idea how this happened. How we met, how we fell for each other almost instantly. I’m scared to think about how close I was to not having it. Not experiencing it. Not being with you. If I hadn't met you that day, I would’ve finished my contract a week or so later and never even met you at all.”
His eyes search mine, and he takes a small step forward, our toes touching as he looks down at me.
“I’m glad Shelley hired you.”
“I’m sure glad Shelley made me come and meet you.” I smile, thinking back to that day.
“I think she needs a bonus.” He gives me a wink, his hands feeling warm and safe around my waist.
“Thank you. For the mistletoe.” Who would’ve thought a small, artificial leaf would mean so much.
