Page 213 of Wild Then Wed
But the part that knocks the air out of my lungs is the stocking on the mantle. Three of them. One with my name, one with hers…and one that says Hank. The stitching is a little crooked, but it’s perfect.
And then there’s the crown jewel: the tree.
Jesus Christ.
It’s enormous. I mean, I’m six-foot-three and I’d still have to reach quite a bit to put a star on it. Somehow it’s wedged into the corner by the front window. The lights aren’t plugged in yet, and there aren’t any ornaments, but the thing is still…a presence. A bold, unapologetic presence.
How the hell did she even get that thing through the door?
Wren’s at the stove, her back to me, stirring something with a big wooden spoon. Her hair’s half clipped up, the rest falling in soft waves down her back. She’s wearing one of my T-shirts and a pair of pajama pants covered in tiny red trucks with Christmas trees tied to the roof.
She turns around when she hears the door shut. Her eyes go wide. “Shit. I was hoping these brownies would be done before you got home.”
I’m still standing there in my coat, keys in hand, somewhere between stunned and…moved. Deeply, completely moved.
She stops stirring. Her hand lifts off the counter and she gestures vaguely at the room, her voice pitching high and tentative. “Surprise?” She winces like she’s bracing for impact.
I open my mouth, but she barrels right over me, already talking fast.
“Okay, listen. I know you don’t like Christmas. I really do. And I wasn’t trying to make a big thing out of it, but I just thought maybe this year could be different. Not like—differentdifferent, but a little less mopey and sad. And it’s okay if you hate it, I just—something about the house feltempty, and I guess I wanted to fill it. Not permanently. I can take it all down next week. Or tomorrow. Or—hell, I don’t know, maybe never if you secretly love it, but you don’t have to love it, just—”
“Wren.”
“—I just thoughtmaybewe could start a new thing. Like a tradition, or maybe just brownies on a random Wednesday in December, I don’t know. And I know I should’ve asked first, and I probably over-did it.” She pauses, then adds, “Okay, I definitely over-did it and Idefinitelyshould’ve waited on the tree, but it was on sale and I couldn’t pass it up—”
“Wren.”
She finally stops, blinking up at me. Her cheeks are flushed and there’s a streak of chocolate across her forearm. Her mouth is parted like she’s mid-thought, like if I don’t speak quickly, she’ll keep going.
So I cross the room, wrap my hands around her face, and kiss her.
She melts into it. Her fingers curl into the front of my coat, her body soft against mine. She smells like brownie batter and pine needles and the body wash she steals from my side of the shower.
When I pull back, her eyes are searching mine. “Do you hate it?”
I shake my head slowly. “No. I don’t hate it.”
Her shoulders relax the tiniest bit. “You hesitated.”
“I’m still processing everything.” I nod toward the giant tree. “Like…that beast over there.”
She bites her bottom lip, trying not to laugh. “Yeah. About that.”
I chuckle. “How the hell did you even manage to get that thing in here?”
“I might’ve recruited Ridge, Riley and Boone.”
I lift a brow. “Bribery?”
“A pan of brownies each.”
I laugh, real and full. “You’re smart.”
She shrugs, stepping back toward the stove to check the brownies. “I had a vision. Sue me.”
I look around again. The house smells like something warm. It looks like something alive. And for the first time in years, Christmas doesn’t feel like a ghost waiting to knock me flat on my ass.
It feels like her. And I think…maybe I could learn to love it again.
