Page 36 of Tied Up In Tinsel
“Oh, Santa’s faster than you think,” I chimed in. “How do you think he makes it around the whole world in one night?”
Ruby’s mouth fell open like I’d revealed a secret no one else knew.
“Exactly!” Annie added quickly. “He can get to the North Pole in an hour, easy.”
Ruby gasped. “Iknewit.” She crossed her arms, smug, then nodded as if she had solved Christmas itself.
She turned her eyes on me. “I think I made the nice list this year.”
I raised a brow. “What about me? Which list did I make?”
She tapped her chin, pretending to think, though I could see the glimmer of mischief dancing in her eyes. “I’m not sure yet.”
The little devil.
She swiveled to Annie. “Can Brooks come with us? That way I can convince Santa to put him on the nice list with me.”
“Oh, no, I don’t—” I began, not wanting to step on tradition.
“Of course,” Annie cut me off, smiling.
I looked at her across the table, catching her gaze. My fork froze halfway to my mouth. I didn’t want to intrude on something that was clearly theirs, a mother-daughter tradition full of history and memory. She didn’t owe me a place in it.
Are you sure?I mouthed.
Her answer was a small, certain nod. A wink.
My chest tightened.
Ruby squealed, clapping her hands. “Yes! Okay, Brooks, but you have to tell Santa at least one thing you want. That’s the rule.”
“Oh, that’s going to be tough,” I teased, ruffling her hair. “I don’t even know what I want.”
Ruby rolled her eyes like I was hopeless. “Everyone wants something.”
“Do they?” I asked, but the truth was I did know what I wanted. It just wasn’t the kind of thing you told a kid.
Because what I wanted was sitting across from me, laughing softly, her eyes lighting up in a way that made the world outside this dining room disappear.
Annie.
Ever since that night together, the air between us felt charged. Electric. I caught myself watching her when I should’ve been focusing on my plate, memorizing the curve of her smile, the sound of her laugh, the soft blush that dusted her cheeks when our eyes met across the table.
I loved watching her be a mom, loved the tenderness and patience in her voice when she spoke to Ruby. And, damn it, I loved the way she’d unraveled for me the other night, how she’d looked on top of me, wild and beautiful.
It was a blessing and a curse all at once. My body ached for her, my mind spun with her, and yet here we were—pretending nothing had changed.
Ruby prattled on about Santa, about the magic of Christmas, and I tried to stay present, tried to join the conversation. But underneath it all, one thought kept beating in my chest:
For the first time in years, I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay.
Brooks
“Ruby!” I called, my voice carrying through the lodge as her bright red tutu swished ahead of me like a little holiday flag.
She only giggled harder and darted farther away, weaving through the decorated halls with the agility of someone who knew I couldn’t resist chasing her.
I groaned and took off after her, boots pounding against the polished wood floor. I’d brought her here to surprise Annie with a midday pick-me-up, figured seeing her daughter would be the best kind of break during a long day of prepping. But right now, Ruby had other plans, and apparently, those plans included running me ragged.
