Page 35 of The Grinch and His Curvy Christmas Miracle
I almost forget Sandra showed up. Almost.
But Nikki’s still here. She didn’t run. Didn’t flinch when my past knocked on the door.
She stood there, took every cruel word, and still chose to say yes.
My chest tightens. I won’t forget that. Not ever.
A low grumble breaks the silence.
Nikki presses a hand to her stomach, cheeks flushing.
"Sorry. That was me."
I chuckle and push out of the other recliner.
"I promised you steak, didn’t I?"
She nods, grinning. "You did. And after that emotional ambush, I’m starving."
In the kitchen, I pull out the steaks I’d started prepping before Sandra knocked and tried to wreck Christmas all over again.
I toss two potatoes into the oven and fire up the pan.
Nikki pads over, leaning across the counter, chin in hand.
"Need help?"
I glance at her. "Sit. You’ve done enough."
She huffs but pulls out a chair at the small kitchen table, tucking her legs under her like she’s already home.
She watches me with that soft, content little smile that does dangerous things to my chest.
When the steaks are ready, I plate them with the baked potatoes and set the dishes down. She digs in without hesitation.
The second she takes a bite, she moans.
Low, soft, and way too sinful for a damn steak.
Something tightens low in my gut.
I raise an eyebrow. "That good?"
She closes her eyes like she’s savoring it.
"You have no idea. I might actually marry you for the steak alone."
I snort. "Not the worst proposal I’ve had today."
She grins and takes another bite. "Seriously, it’s unfair. You chop wood, build furniture, and cook like this?"
"Don’t forget grumpy," I mutter.
"Grumpy and armed with a cast-iron skillet? Deadliest combo out there."
We fall into an easy rhythm. Passing butter, trading bites, stealing looks like we haven’t already spent the last twenty-four hours breaking down every wall between us.
It’s quiet. Warm.
