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I said nothing, deciding it was better to soak up the little moments while they were right there in front of me. It wasn’t often we had time for sex and time afterward, but we were granted it all the same. The little cottage was positioned so I could see the wide streak of light that would stream over the snow whenever Sophia turned on her bedroom light. It was the one solid indicator that I should be back in the house and checking on her.
“And it’s not with everyone,” he said softly, groggily even.
I stirred from my thoughts. “What?”
“You said I break down and evaluate every conversation whenever I talk to someone.”
“Oh, yeah, it’s true, though.”
“Yes. But I don’t do it with you. Not anymore. It’s nice to just…be around someone.”
I wondered if this were something he would have said if he wasn’t both content and clearly halfway toward sleep. After a moment of thought, I realized it didn’t matter in the slightest right then. Shane wasn’t someone to simply throw out a line just to make someone feel good, and as far as I knew, he had yet to lie to me. What he’d just said was genuinely meant, even if he might wonder if he should have held his tongue later when he was conscious and more himself.
“That works for me,” I said softly as I resumed stroking his hair.
* * *
Sophia narrowed her eyes at me. “What is on your head?”
“A hat,” I said as I entered her bedroom, bag in tow and a pot under the other arm.
“Why are you wearing a…that hat?” she asked, as though calling it a Santa hat would have brought her great physical pain. Her eyes followed me from where she lay in her bed, practically closed from how hard she was squinting at me.
“It’s Christmas,” I reminded her, setting my bag down.
“I’m well aware of that.”
“Then you should already know why I’m wearing the hat.”
She let out a huff. “It’s bad enough my son has decided to deck the halls as he insists upon calling it, along with that god awful racket he keeps playing.”
“Pretty sure that’s just Christmas music.”
“God awful racket.”
I chuckled. “Somehow I’m not surprised in the slightest you aren’t a fan of Christmas.”
“Another excuse for people to pretend they’re happy, all while greedily buying up everything they can, only to sit down to their screaming children over a toy they didn’t receive,” she grumbled, setting her book aside. “And all this Santa Claus business, how ridiculous. What’s the point of lying to your children about some overweight elderly old man squeezing down a chimney? These people do all this work, buying gifts, wrapping them up, and what, to give credit to some lie? Ridiculous.”
“Well,” I said, setting the potted plant on the windowsill. “I hope you’re at least a fan of presents.”
“Presents? What is that?” she demanded, and I pretended I didn’t notice the rasp in her voice.
“Something to brighten up the room,” I said, adjusting the leaves on the plant before stepping away from the sill.
Sophia leaned over and peered at the plant before snorting. “You brought me an ugly little plant?”
“It won’t be ugly forever,” I told her, pulling out my tablet to check over the last caregiver's notes left behind on the system. “One day, if you treat it well, it’ll grow up to be a big, beautiful bush.”
“Of what?”
“Magnolias.”
There was a pause, and then, “Why that particular plant?”
I glanced over at her and smiled. “Because I’ve seen that flower printed on a few different things you use. The notebook you carry with you, your bookmark, and I noticed the magnolia flower necklace you’ve worn a couple of times. I couldn’t really think of anything else.”
Honestly, the thought of Shane and his small house full of plants had stood out when I’d caught sight of it in a store window. I couldn’t precisely say why I thought it would be a good gift for Sophia, but once the thought was there, I couldn’t shake it. That there had been another plant there interesting enough to grab for Shane had just been a bonus.
