Page 45 of Say It Isn't Snow
Holly
This definitely is the solid start to our New Year’s plan.
Layla
Just me and my bestie girls! We don’t need anyone but each other.
My lips twist wryly at the long string of heart emojis she sends me. I send her just as many back.
I adore her. While I share her sentiment, there is someone else I need.
By the time I’ve gathered all my potential decorations in a pile on the coffee table, changed into a cute satin disco ball sleep set with my embroidered bow slippers, and powered through the rest of my emails, Caleb returns.
I beam, holding the door open for him as he hoists the tree he chopped down for me onto the porch. “Oh my god, it’s beautiful!”
“Picked the best one for you.” He shoots me a heart-stopping dimpled smile.
“I love it!”
He props it against the house, shaking off the excess snow from the branches. Once he’s satisfied, he grabs a tree stand from the shed and makes space in the sitting room inside.
“How’s here by the window?” he asks.
“Perfect.”
He gets everything set up while I supervise. I’m barely able to contain my amazement. We haven’t done anything to the tree yet and it already looks fantastic.
I inhale deeply, eyelashes fluttering. “It smells so nice.”
“My grandma’s always had the same thought. Grandpa always went out without fail when we spent our holidays here and brought her back the biggest, prettiest trees he could find,” he says.
I select a thin white ribbon with a scalloped lace edge and tie a bow on one of the branches. I light up, adding another until the middle section is dotted with the bows I usually use to tie up my hair. When I reach for the next one, I find him watching me with a tender expression.
“Will you help me decorate?” I tie a bow and offer it to him.
He accepts it, leaning in to brush a kiss against my lips. “Tell me where you want it.”
“Up high where I can’t reach.” I point to an ideal sprig.
The corner of his mouth quirks. Grasping my waist, he boosts me up in a smooth show of strength and perches me on his shoulder.
“Show off.” I fight a smile.
His thumb strokes my thigh. “For you? Always. Find a good spot for that bow.”
We get the top of the tree filled in with ribbons and the other odds and ends I collected from around the house, including wooden napkin holders with winter motifs, a set of woodland creatures made from pinecones, extra dried orange slices I brought for my mulled wine recipe, and some of my two-toned baking twine. To top it off, I add my biggest bow hair clip as the topper.
Once the upper half of the tree is complete, he sets me down. We work on the bottom section together. I set a snow globe on the mantel next to the tree as the finishing touch.
“Where’d you find that?”
I trace the carved trees on the base. “On top of a cabinet in the kitchen while I was raiding it for the napkin rings.”
The rustic cabin inside the glass is a close match for the one we’re in.
“It feels like we’re inside the snow globe right now,” I murmur. “Our private bubble away from the world.”
His hand rests at the small of my back. “The tree looks great.”
