Page 30 of Say Yule Stay
“Nice deflection,” I note and she rolls her eyes, pulling the blanket tighter around her. “They’re visiting my brother. He couldn’t get the time off work so they went to him.”
“You didn’t want to go?”
“I saw him for Thanksgiving, and we’ll make time to see each other in the spring, but we’ve never been like you and Murphy.”
“Okay, but then what are you doing for Christmas?”
“Hallie’s parents invited me over, but I think I’ll tell them we’d rather have a nice quiet evening here.” Pausing, I add, “Unless you want to go there. Your parents still don’t know you’re here, right?”
She shakes her head. “We’re still just pretending that we’ll have Christmas closer to New Year’s Eve. Staying in is great. But I didn’t get you a present.”
“You don’t need to get me anything.”
“I know, but I just didn’t expect this…”
Her expression is so crestfallen, and I know it’s not just about the present—it’s everything. Nothing has gone as planned, and she’s just trying to get her feet back under her. I want to scoop her up into my arms and kiss away all the sadness.
So that’s exactly what I do.
25
LACEY
Walker drew us a bath after my meltdown in the kitchen. Honestly, the entire day felt like one thing after another, and by the time I got to the counter, my cup had completely run dry.
Unsurprisingly, Walker knew exactly what I needed—kisses and touches, both tender and sweet, that made me feel cherished.
Loved.
I could brush the latter feeling off as a product of how long we’ve known each other, but that would be a mistake. Because our time together has been perfect, like something straight out of a movie.
Is it because we said it’s temporary or is this the kind of connection that can last?
I don’t know and I’m not sure I want to.
I don’t want to ruin what we have.
Swallowing hard, I slip my sweater over my head, careful not to smudge the light coating of makeup I put on this morning.
It’s Christmas Eve after all.
Checking my reflection one last time, I leave the bathroom and head downstairs. Christmas music plays softly from the kitchen, the smell of waffles and bacon permeating the air as Walker hands me a cup of coffee, the perfect shade of tan.
Meeting my gaze, he gives me a self-satisfied look. “It should be right. Go ahead, take a sip.”
“Awfully confident this morning,” I say wryly because not even the email requesting I report on the twenty-seventh can ruin my day.I haven’t even accepted the job yet.
“I know what you like,” he fires back, pointing the spatula at me.
Bringing the cup to my nose, I inhale the rich aroma and take a drink.
It’s perfect, and the smile spreading over his face says he knows it.
“You did a good job.”
He gloats and places a plate piled high with food in front of me before placing a second at the stool next to mine and turning off the stove.
“Can you grab the whipped cream from the fridge?”
