Page 29 of The Fate Philosophy

Oh, shit.It was the first day of Hanukkah. I’d completely forgotten.

He set the bags down on the counter and began to unpack them, pulling out a traditional looking, white menorah, along with eight long-stemmed, blue candles and a ninth white one. “I figured you never made it out to get that menorah.”

I snorted. I hadn’t.

Without so much as looking at me, he stalked across the living room and set the menorah on the window sill where the Christmas tree used to be, and set the candles down on the table next to it. He then grabbed a box of the Christmas tree lights from the corner where he’d stored them last week when he helped me take it down. Finally, he turned to face me, pausing as he caught my stare. “I was kind of Googling out of my ass with this but I read that a window is a good place for it? We can move it if we need to.”

All I could do was nod at the lights in his hands. “What do you plan to do with those?”

“You said that the lights helped with seasonal depression, and I realized we took them down when we threw out the tree, so I’m going to hang them back up.”

“Do I look depressed to you or something, Dominic?”

He took my question as an opportunity to rake his gaze down my body, and I felt his stare in every molecule. “I mean…you did physically knock yourself unconscious, so–”

“You’re an asshole.”

He smiled. I felt that in every molecule, too. “I just figured… you had a tough day yesterday. You can’t entertain yourself in any twenty-first century sort of way. Plus, it’s a holiday, and nobody should be alone on Hanukkah.”

I tried to reign in my emotions and make my response sound casual. “I told you I’m not sentimental about the holidays.” Truthfully, I was surprised that he was even still here.

Ignoring me, he walked back into the kitchen and opened a drawer before returning to the window with a box of thumbtacks. “Okay, while I string lights, tell me about Hanukkah, and then when we’re finished we’ll light the menorah, eat, and then–shit.” He sighed. “I forgot to get a dreidel. I’m sorry, Mace.”

A giggle involuntarily bubbled from my lips. When he turned around and frowned at me, I only laughed harder. I fell back onto the couch unable to control my outburst, and he began to laugh too. “You’re ridiculous, you know that? You didn’t need to do any of this.”

“I wanted to. I honestly thought it sounded like fun. I’ve never celebrated Hanukkah before.” He reached up to hang the lights along the top of the window, and his sweater rode up just enough for me to get a peek at his stomach. His toned, smooth, hard stomach. I bit back a coo. “Plus, you can argue all you want but nobody should be alone on a day that’s important to them.”

“What about you being alone on Christmas?”

“Christmas isn’t important to me,” he shot back. Somehow I didn’t believe him.

“Well, thank you. I appreciate the effort, and I’m not worried about the dreidel.” I choked on another laugh. “I’ll tell you all I know about Hanukkah, which isn’t a lot because I have a habit of not paying attention during family gatherings.”

He turned back to me and gave me that sincere, boyish smile once again. As if he was hanging onto my every word. As if he was living to see me pleased. My chest clenched and my stomach tightened as if I’d taken a sharp inhale of air.

He should not be looking at me like that.

“I have one more surprise for you.” He craned his head toward the bags he left on the kitchen counter. “I stopped at home and ran into my neighbor, Barbara. She asked me where I was last night and I told her I was taking care of a friend. I asked her for any advice on how I could make Hanukkah a little brighter for you since you’re,” he glanced at me and waved his hand in the air, “laid up. And, well, she ran inside her apartment and returned with tupperware full of latkes and…sufganiyot? I don’t think I’m pronouncing that right.” He wasn’t. “The little jelly donut things.”

For some reason I couldn’t explain, I leapt up from the couch and strode up behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. He tensed as I made contact. “Thank you,” I whispered. “For all of it.”

“You don’t have to thank me.” He spun around in my arms until our chests were pressed together. I looked up at him, his brown eyes glowing. “I like hanging out with you. You make everything fun.”

I bit back the urge to cry. I’ve never cared much for the holidays, mostly because my family just isn’t that close. We don’t have an extended family that gets together, and my parents themselves aren’t particularly affectionate. Our holiday gatherings have always been small, non-traditional, and sometimes even forced. Nobody had ever done something like this for me before, and it was making me realize how much I actually cared. How much I wanted to feel like I could enjoy the holidays with someone.

His expression was unreadable, and he stared at my face for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he brought his hand up to my shoulder and wrapped one of my curls around his finger. “Your hair looks good. See what happens when you listen to me?”

I glanced down at his hand, but all I could see were his fingers, long and strong. The vein that ran down the back of his hand and into his wrist, flexing as he moved it. My gaze roamed up his arm until it met his face– his eyes. He was smirking at me, and I just realized the comment he made about my hair.

I shook my head, clearing the wave of lust that made a very unwelcome appearance in my body. “Asshole,” I muttered.

His laugh was warm and silky, wrapping around me like a fleece blanket. The sun was just beginning to set, and I decided to throw on a heavier sweatshirt before we lit the menorah. I stalked past Dom, flipping him my middle finger as I disappeared around the corner and into my bedroom.

I threw a crew neck over my tank top, and decided to put on my favorite pair of fuzzy socks too. Dom peeked his head through the doorway as I dug through my sock drawer. “Hey I got all the food unpacked and…” he trailed off. A second later I felt the heat of his body press against mine as he peered over my shoulder and into the top drawer of my dresser.

“Stop looking at my panties.”

“Wasn’t looking at your panties.”

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