Page 36 of Christmas on Ice
“Tim-berrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!” She giggled as the guys slowly let the tree fall to the ground.
Ten minutes later, she’d chosen a tree for Jason and Trask’s apartment, and we were on our way back to the main building for tree netting and hot chocolate with the team.
When Ryleigh, Natasha, and Ava started to argue over which of their trees was better, Kira, Svetlana, and I determined it was time to go. Ryleigh chatted the entire way home, explaining to us why the grand fir was better than the Colorado spruce and the white pine. Apparently, softer needles were the most important quality in a tree, then color, and then “empty space for ornaments.” Not for the first time, I didn’t mind that her current preschool was pricier than the last one.
Back at our house, I settled Ryleigh at the table with the coloring book the tree farm had sent us home with. While Trask prepped and set up the tree next to the fireplace, I started dinner. I loved to cook, and Ryleigh was a good eater, as far as preschoolers went. She loved most vegetables and would try new foods without a fight.
Trask joined Ryleigh at the table as I turned the burner off under the pan of chicken. “The prettiest tree in the land is ready for lights and ornaments!” he announced with a grin.
Ryleigh clapped. “Yay! Can we decorate now, Mommy?”
“I think we’re supposed to let it sit for a day.” I glanced at Trask for confirmation.
“But…” She stared at it forlornly. “You said I have to go to Daddy’s tomorrow. I want to decorate it today.” Her voice wavered, and she sniffed. I pressed my lips together and looked at the tree, debating. “What do you think, Trask?”
He shrugged. “It’s dry, critter-free, and not too sappy. I think it’s okay.”
Ryleigh squealed and jumped from her seat. “I’m going to go get all my dollies!”
We watched her go and shared a laugh. When our eyes met, we held each other’s gaze. I sucked in a breath as I read the heat in his eyes. This man seemed to be everything I could want, and it scared the heck out of me.
“Do you need any help getting anything from your attic? I assume you have an attic?” He broke the silence, and I let go of the breath I’d been holding.
“We do.” I cleared my throat. I turned away to drain the pasta. “There’s a pull-down staircase in the laundry room. The Christmas bins are clear and have red covers.”
“On it.”
I finished prepping the dinner alone in the kitchen, feeling both of their absences. Ryleigh was in and out of her room, carrying a few dolls with each trip and then lining them up in a row on the sofa. Trask brought the bins down and stacked them by the wall. I took another deep breath as I thought about all the memories those totes held. I wanted to make new memories to record over the unpleasant ones. Sutton and I had fought every Christmas, each year about a different minor detail that never really mattered but only ever ate at our connection. After Ryleigh’s second Christmas, I’d had enough, and as I put away the decorations that year, I knew it was time for us to go our separate ways.
I didn’t want to open those totes.
I portioned out the pasta, chicken, broccoli, and alfredo sauce. As good of an eater as she was, Ryleigh did not like her food touching, and I’d gotten used to keeping it separated.
I felt Trask behind me before I saw him. “Sure I can’t help?” I closed my eyes. His voice in my ear and warm breath on my neck sent thrills through me. And he smelled like a Christmas tree.
“I’ve got it.” My reply sounded husky, and I wondered if he knew the effect he was having on me. I stared down at the plates. They looked like pie graphs. A ramekin of sauce sat in each center, noodles on one side, and chicken and broccoli—not touching—on the other half. “Unless you prefer your foods mixed?”
He laughed. “I’m guessing this is a Ryleigh thing?” I nodded. He picked up the three plates expertly and waggled his eyebrows. “I’ll let Ryleigh lead on this one.”
I just about melted on the spot. My girl seemed to have him wrapped around her finger, and he was aware and liking it.
I picked up the basket of crescent rolls and turned around. Trask was staring at the tree. I followed his gaze. “What the—” Standing frozen in place, I stared at the tree. “Ryleigh, honey, whatareyou doing?”
“I’m making my tree SUPER pretty, Mommy!” she announced gleefully. “Mr. Tiggerman, can you put me up high so I can make the top pretty, too?”
In a matter of a few minutes, Ryleigh had stuck almost all of her princess dolls into the tree.
“Sap,” I whispered, hoping this farm tree wouldn’t leave any sticky residue in the dolls’ hair. I cleared my throat. “What about the ornaments?”
“Ornaminths are boring,” she stated emphatically, rolling her eyes. “I told you we were going to have the prettiest tree. Pretty trees need pretty dresses. Mr. Tiggerman! Up, please!”
Trask set the plates on the table and tried to reassure me. “It’s not that sappy.” His lips twitched, but the cost of her two-dozen-plus dolls and the chore of getting sap out of dolly ball gowns had me cringing.
Ryleigh took him by the hand and dragged him over to the sofa, where she gathered the remaining dolls in her arms. “Up now, please!”
I nodded, and he obeyed Ryleigh’s request, lifting her up so she could stuff the dolls into the upper branches. “We just need the angel now. Mommy, can you get the angel?”
The angel.I sucked in a breath. I’d left that at the old house on purpose. Sutton and I had bought it for our first Christmas together. “It’s not here, baby girl. I left it at your daddy’s.”
