Page 73 of Santa Baby

“Wow.” I laughed, taking the tiny, ornamental coffee mug from her hand and inspecting it.

“It reminded me of you and your useless coffee mugs at your apartment.”

“Mine are bigger.”

“Not by a lot.” She laughed, and the light that had vanished a moment ago returned. I was more than grateful for it. “Let’s put them next to each other.”

“All right.” I let her lead me toward the tree she liked best. The shortest one, the most imperfect. She took several minutes to decide where she wanted the camera to go, and when she finally chose a hardy, slightly bent branch, I watched her hang it, hyper focused on her fingers. Smooth, slim fingers. An artist’s fingers. My heart lurched as she turned to me, pride in her eyes. I hung the coffee mug on the branch just beside it, and we stepped back to admire our decorations.

“Excuse me, can I take your picture?”

We turned toward the voice, finding a petite woman with large, tortoise shell glasses peering up at us with a polaroid camera.

“Of course,” I replied, sliding my hand down Fia’s back.

Fia straightened, smiling brightly, and the flash ripped toward us.

“For the lovebirds,” the woman said, shaking out the picture and handing it to Fia.

“Thank you.” Fia smiled at the woman as she walked away, then turned her attention to the developing film. “Aw, look at us. You’d think we were a real couple.”

There it was. My chance to tell her that was exactly what I wanted.

“You blinked,” she groaned, giggling as she handed me the picture. I did, in fact, have my eyes closed.

“We’ll take another one.”

“No, I like this one.” She took the picture back, smiling down at it. “I’m going to frame it.”

“We’ll take real pictures soon. A portrait. You can have it blown up and hang it on your wall.”

“Only if we wear matching denim outfits and have the pictures taken at JC Penney’s.”

“I was thinking more Renaissance.”

“Of course you were.” She threw her head back in a laugh. She looked so beautiful and I was losing my will to hold back, to do this the right way, especially when she smiled.

A dance started in the center of the ballroom. Couples moved to a slow, jazz rendition of Santa Baby, which seemed to play repeatedly at every event we’d attended together. I took her hand. “Do you want to dance?”

“Yeah.” Her smile worked its way to the marrow of my bones.

We were on the dance floor in a few short steps. I placed my hands on her lower back and hip. She knitted her fingers against the back of my neck as we stepped side to side, gently swaying to the music.

“I love this song.” She smiled, briefly closing her eyes.

“I know. You light up every time you hear it.”

“Do you notice everything?” she asked.

“I notice little things. Like how your nose crinkles when you smile, but only if you’re teasing me.”

She crinkled her nose in emphasis.

“Yeah, just like that.” I paused. “You like sweets. So much. More than the average person.”

“My dentist hates to see me coming.”

I chuckled. “I’m sure he loves you. You’ve probably funded his vacations to Aspen every year.”