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“I love them,” I said. “Now I’m going to look for one that reminds me of you.” I walked back to the end of the tent where there was another tree laden with decorations. There were many Santas, more angels, and copious reindeer. None of them seemed quite right until I found a glass farmhouse with a wreath on the door.
This was Atticus. Home.
“What did you find?” Atticus asked, coming up behind me.His warm breath in my ear sent the good kind of shivers up my spine. If we weren’t out in public, I would have kissed him.
Instead, I showed him the ornament.
“How does this remind you of me?” Atticus asked. “I thought you’d find a laptop or phone.”
“Spending time with you is like coming home. To a cozy, soft place to land. Even fallen angels like me are welcome there.”
“You’re not fallen.” Atticus brushed my cheek with his gloved thumb. “But you are an angel. My angel. The one I dreamed of for so long.” He paused to play with an escaped tendril of hair at my neck. “Did I just say that out loud?”
Tears blurred my vision. “You did. And I really want to kiss you.”
“We’ll save that for later,” Atticus said. “We have a tree to find.”
“Right. The tree.”
A temporary skatingrink near the gazebo hosted kids and adults alike. Children chased one another or attempted twirls in the middle of the ice. Couples, hand in hand, stayed toward the edges and out of the way of unruly children.
“When did they start doing this?” I asked.
“About ten years ago, if I remember right.”
We headed toward the tree lot adjacent to the park. “I thought we’d chop one down like in the movies,” I said.
“I’d rather get something nicely shaped,” Atticus said. “And I don’t really want to traipse through the snow with a chain saw. In fact, I don’t even have a chain saw.”
The flash of a camera light temporarily blinded me. I looked over to see some idiot running away.
“We’re going to get rid of these guys,” Atticus said. “My brothers and I will figure out a way.”
“But how? It’s not against the law.”
“We’ll have to get creative then,” Atticus said, nodding toward the man at the register. “Hey, George. Merry Christmas.”
George tipped his black-and-red-checkered hat our way. “Good to see you, Mr. Moon. Let me know if you need any help.”
“Thanks, buddy.” Atticus patted him on the shoulder before we headed toward the trees.
There were dozens and dozens to choose from. We gave them all the once-over, as though they were cute guys on a dating site. One was too tall, the other too short. One had too many branches and another not enough. Finally, we found just the right fit. A noble fir about seven feet high and four feet wide.
“Let’s get her home,” Atticus said.
“Funny. I was thinking of them as guys.”
“Hmm…well, either way, we have ourselves a tree. Can I buy you a cup of weak cocoa on the way out?”
“Nah, let’s go home.” The light had almost disappeared from the sky, leaving shadows on the snow. Soon it would be completely dark. I didn’t want to be out at night. Atticus’s house was less exposed, despite the pictures they’d gotten of the men outside on the patio. Whoever had just taken our photo had probably already sold it to the tabloids. It was like whacking moles. Get rid of one and another appears. Or maybe lice?
Could I do more to stop them? Ben had a bodyguard who had worked for him for years, so we were never in any danger. However, the constant pressure and attention grew old really fast. I hated feeling as if I had to be dressed and made up wherever we went because the photos would be everywhere.
The one that had really hurt was taken when we were in Mexico on vacation. Someone took a photo of me in my bathing suit. Soon everyone was talking about my body asthough it belonged to them. Some said I looked anorexic. Others pointed out the cellulite on the backs of my legs.
When the pictures went viral, I’d felt exposed and vulnerable, more so than I ever had before, and that was saying something. A sense of shame plagued me, too. Which I know was ridiculous, given that I was only spending a day at the beach and hadn’t asked for the extreme scrutiny about my body. I was the one violated. I should not be ashamed. Still, I felt as if I’d done something wrong.
Ben and I had had a huge fight that night. He had dismissed me, saying I was overreacting. Great thing to say to a woman when she’s mad. It escalated, and he ended up leaving me in the hotel room and going downstairs to the bar.
