Page 56 of Fighting for You
“Oh,” she turns to me, “I was just imagining how those knobs you bought will look in here. Did you decide on a paint color?”
I shake my head as I say, “Sure didn’t.” The silence settles around us for a few seconds before I add, “Which color would you choose?”
“What?”
“If it were up to you, what would you go with?”
There’s a sparkle in her eye as she thinks about her answer. “I think I’d choose a sage green.” She looks down at the island, inspecting it. “What about the counters?”
I huff a laugh. “What about them?”
Running her finger along the edge of the current countertops, she brings her gaze back up to me. “What’s your plan for them?” I shrug. And this time, I don’t have to ask what she’d do with them, she tells me on her own. “I think white or cream granite would look nice. Or maybe marble? Do people still put marble in kitchens? And I’d leave the island a natural wood color so it accents the green.”
She could talk all day about kitchen cabinets and counters—shit—she could add in appliances, and I’d be happy to listen. They’re good ideas. Way better than what I came up with. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“Sorry, I’m sure you have your own plan for it all.”
“Nah, I really don’t.”
She smiles and walks toward me to wrap her arms around my neck. “Well, I’ll keep telling you mine then.”
I bend down to kiss her lips. “I appreciate that, Freckles. You ready to go? I assume you have work today.”
She nods as she says, “I do. My shift starts at one.”
I look over at the clock again, it’s almost eleven, and the drive back to her place is a little over twenty minutes. “Let’s get going then. Lydia will have my balls if I interfere with your work.”
“Ew!” she says as she slaps my arm.
I’m waiting outside for Margot when my phone dings with a notification.
12/21 11:16 a.m.
Cary:How’s tomorrow? And will we see you at Louie’s on Christmas Eve?
12/21 11:16 a.m.
Me:That’ll work. And I don’t see why not.
Read11:17 a.m.
Just as I hit send, the front door opens. I’d forgotten all about the Christmas Eve tradition. With everything going on, it’s been the last thing on my mind. Without thinking, I open my mouth and say, “What’re you doing Christmas Eve?”
What the fuck?Why does this shit keep happening?
“Oh. Umm… I don’t think I have plans, why?” She’s right beside me now. Looking up at me with those beautiful green eyes.
I run my hand over my head, trying to push down the nerves. “Uhh, there’s this thing on Christmas Eve at Louie’s called the Jingle Mingle. I figured you could maybe come hang out with us all.”
Her eyes light up, and my heart starts to race. “You asking me on a second date, baby?”
Okay. So I’ve called her baby. It keeps slipping out. But somehow her saying it to me just about takes me out. Fuck. Ineed to hear it again. “What if I am?” I smirk, trying to hide the tremor in my voice brought on by a simple fucking word.
“Then…” she starts, wrapping her hand in mine, “I’d say I’ll see you then. I work until eight though, so I probably can’t get there until around nine.”
We walk toward the garage where the truck is, our hands still intertwined. “No problem. It usually lasts until midnight.”
We only get a few steps before she’s pulling on my hand, stopping me from going any further. I turn around, a puzzled look on my face as I try to assess the issue.
