Page 75 of Back to December
“There’s a small thing.” I hold my thumb and forefinger up, leaving just a sliver between them. “Super small.”
Her eyes lift from the snow globe she’s holding. “Out with it.”
“Well, there’s supposed to be several bedrooms.” I pause. “There’s only one with a bed in it, though.”
“One?” Her eyes widen. She sets the piece down on the table with a thud. “In thewholehouse?”
“That’s exactly what I mean.”
“There’s no way,” she says, brushing past me.
A few minutes later, she’s leaning over the stair railing, lips pressed into a tight line. “You weren’t kidding.”
“I told you, La.”
“What are we supposed to do?”
“Obviously, you take the bed. The couch doesn’t look bad,” I jerk a thumb toward it. “I can take that.”
“It’s your turn to be the guest,” she fires back. “You drove me here. You should get the bed.”
“Let’s get one thing straight: I didn’t ‘chauffer’ you anywhere,” I say, sure to emphasize the word with finger quotes.
“Semantics,” she says, crossing her arms. “I don’t need the bed.”
“Well, you’re not sleeping on that couch.”
“Why not? It’s beneath me?”
“That’s not it at all,” I huff. “I’m well aware you’d sleep in a treehouse in this weather just to prove a point.”
Her head tilts. “Is there a treehouse?”
I grin. “It’s the bed or the couch. I’m not taking the bed while you sleep out here.”
“And I’m not taking the bed so you can.” She starts down the stairs again, chin high.
The fire snaps in the hearth, throwing gold over her hair as she passes me.
“We can settle it with a snowball fight?”
Her eyebrow arches. “Why not a coin toss?”
“More lively.” I grin and shove my hands in my pockets. The coin in there hums like it heard its name.
“Fine. You win. We’ll share. But there will be a pillow wall.”
She threatened me with one last year, but never followed through with it. Purely on principle, tonight she will.
“Are you sure you didn’t want to share a bed with me? Remember, the house just does what you’ll be comfortable with!” I call after her.
There’s a frustrated shout as a pillow sails out the door and narrowly misses me.
I laugh, ducking out of range. “Guess that’s a no.”
I shove my hand in my pockets and wander toward the kitchen, eager to find either tea to help me sleep or something warm. The moment I step into the kitchen, the air fills with the scent of warm chocolate, and the string lights over the cabinets flicker, like the house is laughing at me
“Fine,” I tell it. “Cocoa for one.”
