Page 18 of Sweet Boys Love Christmas
“I’m ready.” I pick up the bouquet and wine from the table, along with a nice box of chocolates. They’re all for his mom, though there’s a small gift for him stuffed in my purse.
“What’s all that?” he asks, motioning to the items I’m juggling.
“Oh.” My stomach twists at his scrutiny.Maybe I shouldn’t have gotten anything?“This is for your mom. I didn’t want to show up empty-handed. Please tell me she isn’t allergic to flowers, wine, or chocolate. If she is, I might cry.”
He takes the wine bottle, gently cradling it in the crook of one arm, then the flowers. “She’s not allergic. That’s kind of you, B. I promise, she didn’t expect you to bring anything.”
Now that I’ve got a free hand, I adjust my purse strap. “It doesn’t feel right not to.”
Luke looks me up and down, and for a split-second, I’m back to worrying that my outfit is terrible and I should’ve changed.
“You look pretty.”
Oh.
Oh.
“Thank you.”
“I like you in blue.”
He likes me in blue.
I think I might be swooning. How absolutely pathetic. What’s even more pathetic is how I can’t remember Tommy ever telling me I looked pretty. When I was in the thick of the relationship, I suppose I didn’t think about those things. Now that I’m out of it, I can’t believe I accepted so little.
“The blue looks good?” I smooth a hand down my abdomen, over the sweater I was doubting only minutes ago.
He grins, nodding. “You look good in anything, but I’ve officially become partial to you in blue.”
A zing of pleasure moves through me at his appreciation. I have a feeling I’ll be splurging and ordering more things in blue if only to hear him compliment me.
“Need to grab anything else?”
I shake my head and step out into the hall. “Nope, this is it.”
Once my door is locked, we head down the eerily quiet hall. From what I can tell, there are only a handful of us left in the whole building.
Outside, Luke leads me to an older red and white truck. Despite its age, it’s well taken care of, and the paint shines in the late afternoon light.
As he opens the passenger door for me, he looks away, his head lowered a fraction. “I’m sure it’s not what you’re used to, but it gets me around.”
With a hand on his forearm, I wait for him to look at me, then give him a genuine smile. “I love it.”
I’m not just saying it to make him feel better either. It’s sturdy, with character. The interior smells like him, with a hint of mint and tobacco mixed into the leather.
“Thanks.” He smiles, ducking his head.
He rounds the hood, and once he’s seated beside me, he starts up the truck and turns the volume down on the radio.
Once again, we fall into a comfortable silence. It’s amazing, how easy this is for us. After only a few minutes, he turns into a neighborhood filled with older homes. I keep my expression neutral as we roll slowly down the street. They’re the kind of places—shutters hanging off siding, overgrown lawns, gravel drives overrun with weeds—that would send my parents into cardiac arrest.
Luke turns down another street that ends in a cul-de-sac and pulls into the driveway of a small ranch with white siding and a red front door. It’s the most put together house I’ve seen since we turned into the neighborhood. Christmas lights decorate theeaves, and the front door boasts a cheerful wreath with a Santa Claus hat.
The house could probably fit into my family’s living room, but I love it before I even set foot inside. It’s clear, even from the driveway, that happy people live here.
Luke shoots me a nervous look as he shuts the truck off. “It’s not much, but it’s home.”
“It’s perfect,” I say softly.
