I laughed. “I think it’ll do.”
I looked at Bram, fiddling with one of the strings of light, tucking it farther back into the branches so the cord wouldn’t show, and felt like my heart was going to explode. He still hadn’t said he was sorry, but as apologies went, this one was pretty epic.
“We don’t have to decorate it tonight,” Bram said. “You’re probably tired from your shift.”
“Not on your life. I’ll get the hot cocoa, you find a Christmas playlist.”
All of my earlier fatigue had disappeared, and suddenly there was nothing I wanted more than to decorate this ridiculous big ass tree with the Blackwell Butchers.
50
MAEVE
Remy founda playlist and we drank cocoa while decorating the tree. Remy and I were the ones who did all the singing, crooning along toWinter WonderlandandBaby It’s Cold Outside. Any other time I would have assumed we annoyed the hell out of Bram, but he was in surprisingly good spirits, digging through the bags of ornaments and colored beads and putting them on the tree after I told him I had no preference for color scheme.
He’d basically bought one of everything and I wasn’t expecting our beautiful freak of a tree to be featured in any home magazines. I just wanted to have fun, to forget about all the sadness that had cast a pall over the last year and a half of my life and enjoy the sparkly lights and the company of the three strange men who had come to feel like home.
When it was done, we turned out all the lights and stood back to admire our handiwork, a glorious testament to too-muchness: too many lights, too many ornaments, too much color.
June would have loved it.
“You did good,” Poe said, high-fiving Bram.
“Wedid good,” Remy said, admiring the tree. “It’s a kickass tree.”
“Agreed.” I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
Poe gave an exaggerated yawn. “Well, that’s it for me. I’m beat.”
He kissed me on the head and headed for the hall.
“Me too,” Remy said, kissing my lips. “Night, killer.”
“Night.”
It wasn’t until they left that I realized they’d left me alone with Bram on purpose. Now we were standing side by side, the glow of the tree playing across his face, his arms folded across his muscular chest like he was trying to solve a problem instead of just looking at our tree.
“You have some good wingmen,” I said.
“When they’re not being dickheads.”
I laughed, suddenly nervous to be alone with him. I’d stopped worrying that he would reject me, turn cold again. Now I was more worried about myself. About what I’d do alone with him and how much it would hurt me in the end.
“Poe’s right,” I said. “You did good.”
He turned to look at me. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “It was a really nice thing to do.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I’m not usually nice, I know.”
“It’s never too late to change.”
“Do you believe that?” he asked.
I nodded. “Then again, maybe Remy’s right. Maybe we’re all who we are inside and we just need the right circumstances to bring it to the surface.”
He scowled. “Are you saying I’ve been nice all along?”