Page 38 of Mistletoe Masquerade
“Thank you!” I take the flowers inside, and my stomach hosts an entire colony of butterflies. Tucked amid the greenery is a note that reads simply, "You promised," followed by a phone number.
Before Dean left last night, he made me promise I’d see him again. I hadn’t even realized I didn’t have his number.
You do now.
I grin and tuck the card into my back pocket. If I don’t hurry, I won’t have time to see Dani before work. I decide to text him once I’m at the gallery, which ends up being a supremely dumb choice. I can hardly concentrate on a word Dani says while that card burns a hole in my favorite pair of jeans. After what feels like a lifetime, I get settled at work and pull out my phone.
Me: The flowers are gorgeous, thank you
He answers immediately.
Dean: Glad you like them
Dean: You have Christmas plans?
Me: Nope. My parents weren’t able to make it this year.
As soon as I hit send, I worry if I shouldn’t have said the part about my parents. Dean’s an orphan, and I imagine this time of year is extra hard.
Dean: Me either
Oh my God. He’s joking about his dead parents.
Why do I think that’s so sweet? He’s trying to make me comfortable and let me know I don’t have to tiptoe around the subject.
Dean: I always volunteer to work Christmas Day so other guys can be with their families.
So. Freaking. Sweet.
Dean: But I’m free Christmas Eve
It’s a good thing there are no clients at the gallery because I’m staring at my phone with a grin the size of Rhode Island.
Me: My place isn’t big, but you’d be welcome to come by and hang out.
Is it too soon for Christmas together?
Our situation is too abnormal for me to know what’s reasonable. If neither of us has plans, why should it be different from having a date on any other day?
Dean: Your place is perfect—it’s way more festive
I should have known he’d be on the same page. He’s not the type to play dating games.
Dean: That’s still four days away
Dean: Can I see you before then?
More idiotic grinning.
No games here, just an honest desire to see me.
Me: When are you working?
Dean: Tell me when I can see you, and I’ll make it work.
Can a girl die from smiling too much?
I sure hope not.
