Page 102 of Choosing Stella

It had also taught me he greeted me like that every time I came home.

I liked that considerably more.

He lingered for another second before lifting his head.

“You’re cold.”

“It’s snowing.”

“I noticed.”

“Another successful investigation.”

He set my bag and gloves on the entry table, tucked the receipt back into the zipper, then took my coat and hung it beside his. I stepped out of my boots and nudged them beneath the hooks beside his heavier pair. His jacket was draped over the back of a chair because apparently almost two months together hadn’t turned him into a man who used every hanger available to him.

My tarot books occupied one end of the living-room shelves. His things occupied the other. A deck I’d used the night before rested beside the lamp near the couch, close to the glass of water he’d brought me and forgotten to move.

Very little matched perfectly.

Everything looked like ours.

The Christmas tree took up the corner near the windows, covered in warm white lights and the ornaments we’d been collecting since the beginning of December. Wrapped presents filled the space beneath it. Evergreen stretched across the mantel, and tiny lights glowed through the greenery.

I pointed toward the tree.

“You finished without me.”

Geo looked offended.

“There are six ornaments still on the table.”

“I counted eight this morning.”

“One was broken.”

“That leaves seven.”

“I put one on.”

I stared at him.

“You decorated without supervision?”

“I survived.”

“Barely, apparently.”

One corner of his mouth lifted.

I walked into the living room and spotted the ornament he’d added.

It hung at approximately eye level on a branch strong enough to support a small animal.

I turned toward him.

“You selected that location using engineering principles, didn’t you?”

“It won’t fall.”