Page 79 of Perfectly Complicated
Janie laughs. “Don’t encourage her.”
“And you?” I ask, accepting the mug of steaming coffee she offers. “How are you feeling?”
“Better than I have in a long time.” For a moment, her eyes graze across my bare chest. Instead of looking away in embarrassment, she lets her gaze linger before her attention flicks to mine with a small smile. “Thank you. For last night. For everything.”
I steal a slice of bacon from the cooling plate, which earns me a warning glare from Janie. “Okay, bacon thief, want some eggs to go with that?”
“If you don’t mind,” I say, sipping the coffee.
“I’d love to. Though you might want to put on a shirt before Aria starts using your abs as Cheerio target practice.”
This teasing is a small change in her comfort level, but it feels significant, like she’s finally getting used to the idea ofus.
Setting down my cup, I come up behind her as she cracks an egg into the frying pan and wrap my arms around her waist. I rest my chin on top of her head, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, which smells like Christmas in a bottle—vanilla and cinnamon.
“Hey, you’re distracting me,” she protests, shifting her face slightly so I can see the tilt of her mouth, the way her eyelashes flutter for a second.
“Fair’s fair, Bennett,” I murmur against her hair. “You distract me every time you’re near, so now it’s my turn.” Her body goes soft in my arms as she melts against me, and I realize this is what Saturday mornings should feel like—her body against mine, the sound of breakfast cooking, drinking her in.
“So,” I say, lowering my lips to the curve of her neck. “I was thinking we should probably do something about that giant tree sitting naked in our living room.”
She turns in my arms, eyebrows raised. “Naked?”
“You know what I mean.” I keep my arms around her as she struggles to focus on breakfast. “That poor white pine is probably feeling very exposed right now.”
“Are we talking about the tree or you?” she teases, flipping the eggs, glancing over her shoulder with a rueful smile.
“Definitely the tree. I’m very comfortable with my level of exposure.”
She laughs, and I can feel the vibration of it against my chest. “Okay, Riley, we can decorate the tree today. But I should warn you—I take Christmas decoratingveryseriously.”
“How seriously are we talking?”
“There’s a system,” she says, sliding the eggs onto a plate and turning off the heat. “Strict rules about color coordination and ornaments being evenly spaced.”
I lower my mouth to her ear. “Does it involve wrapping me in lights again?” I ask in a gravelly voice. “Because there’s no point otherwise.”
She flips around and looks up under dark lashes. “Only if I’m wrapped up in them too.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Then we’d better start now,” I say, sweeping her off her feet.
“Rourke…” she gasps. “What about breakfast?”
“Forget breakfast,” I say, carrying her into the living room. “Christmas decorating is way more important.”
An hour later, we’re in the living room surrounded by boxes of decorations, Aria in a jumper seat while Janie sorts through a box of decorations.
“These go on first,” she explains, holding up a box of simple gold balls. “Then we add the special ones.” She pulls out a tiny ceramic angel with “Baby’s First Christmas” painted on it.
“My mom got this for Aria before she was evenborn,” she says, letting it twirl in her fingers. “Last Christmas I couldn’t even enjoy it.” A shadow crosses her face.
“Hey,” I say, crouching next to her. “What is it?”
“Nothing, just…” She shrugs, trying to brush it off. “Things were so different last Christmas. Nick had already moved out, and I was very pregnant, trying to put up a tree by myself and crying all over the decorations because I was hormonal and newly divorced. I gave up on the tree and then ended up driving to my parents’ house two hours away so I wouldn’t have to do Christmas alone.”
I reach out and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, watching the memory flicker across her face.
“I can’t take away what happened last year,” I murmur. “But I can promise you this Christmas will be different.”
