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Tristan put his s’more together and held it up, offering me the first bite like he always used to do.
I smiled before parting my lips, even though my insides were twisting over the skis. But I found that sugar always helped.
“You guys are so cute,” Quinn twittered. Oh, she was way past getting her hopes up that Tristan and I would get back together. It was a foregone conclusion to her. No pressure.
Tristan shoved the s’more in my mouth.
I bit into the treat, and a burst of chocolate, graham cracker, and marshmallow gave me a brief rush of happiness.
While I chewed, Tristan’s finger swiped the corner of my lip. “You got a little chocolate there.” Then he licked the chocolate off his finger, slow and sensual, knowing exactly what he was playing at. Oh, baby, was I here for it. If Quinn weren’t a witness, taking it slow would have gone out the window.
“Um, okay. That was a little much,” Quinn complained. “I hope you guys don’t get all gross.”
Tristan and I laughed.
“Maybe we should put on Stranger Things,” Tristan suggested.
“Ooh, yes.” Quinn jumped up and ran toward the sectional. She snuggled into one corner of it with a quilt.
“Why don’t you take the chaise section, so you can rest,” Tristan offered. “Or you can nap on my bed.” He slyly smiled.
As tempting as that was, I thought it best to stay near Quinn. If not, Tristan and I would be sharing more than s’mores—that I knew. Besides, if I crawled into Tristan’s bed, my thoughts would keep me awake. Thoughts of … well … never mind.
“I’ll hang out with you guys.” I hastily pulled my marshmallow out of the flames and made a s’more for myself. My hands shook from all the nervous energy coursing through me.
“Hey.” Tristan tugged on my hair. “You’re safe and in control.”
I let out a deep breath. “I know. This is all just …”
“Amazing,” he finished for me.
He wasn’t wrong. It was baffling, but there was something magical about it all. I never thought we would get the chance to be together again. Much less see some of our dreams come to life, namely his cabin. It sounded strange, but I could feel the love he put into it. Even stranger was that it was our love that built his home.
“It is,” I admitted. “But it’s weird.”
“It won’t always feel like that,” he promised. “Now”—he held out his hand—“let’s get you comfortable.”
In truth, I had never been more comfortable with anyone than him. I think that’s what scared me the most. I was so comfortable with who we were, I hadn’t seen the end coming. But I knew better now. It made me more cautious. Yet, I braved giving him my hand. My soul craved to be whole. As soon as our fingers intertwined, all the hell I knew we were going to pay for this faded to the background for just a moment.
Tristan pulled me up and didn’t let go of my hand. He led me over to the sectional.
Quinn watched our every move, all her hopes and dreams swirling in her eyes.
Tristan helped get me settled on the chaise end, even putting a quilt over me and placing Poppy on my lap.
So there I was, with my kitten and my s’more, dangerously close to Tristan, who sat next to me with his feet propped up on his plaid ottoman.
He gazed over at me. “It feels a lot like Christmas, doesn’t it?”
I snuggled down under the quilt and nodded, thinking of something my mom used to say: “Christmas is just another word for love.”
I certainly felt loved.
TRISTAN
AS THE DAY FADED INTO evening, Tristan watched Calista sleep more than he watched the show. Even when he had to take a couple of work calls, he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. She looked beautiful with her dark hair splayed across the pillow. He loved the little sighs that escaped her inviting lips from time to time as she slumbered. He’d forgotten she did that.
“Should we make her dinner?” Quinn whispered.
