Chapter 50
MAEVE
Remy found a playlist and we drank cocoa while decorating the tree.
Remy and I were the ones who did all the singing, crooning along to Winter Wonderland and Baby It’s Cold Outside.
Any other time I would have assumed we annoyed the hell out of Bram, but he was in surprisingly good spirits, digging through the bags of ornaments and colored beads and putting them on the tree after I told him I had no preference for color scheme.
He’d basically bought one of everything and I wasn’t expecting our beautiful freak of a tree to be featured in any home magazines.
I just wanted to have fun, to forget about all the sadness that had cast a pall over the last year and a half of my life and enjoy the sparkly lights and the company of the three strange men who had come to feel like home.
When it was done, we turned out all the lights and stood back to admire our handiwork, a glorious testament to too-muchness: too many lights, too many ornaments, too much color.
June would have loved it.
“You did good,” Poe said, high-fiving Bram.
“We did good,” Remy said, admiring the tree. “It’s a kickass tree.”
“Agreed.” I couldn’t keep the smile off my face.
Poe gave an exaggerated yawn. “Well, that’s it for me. I’m beat.”
He kissed me on the head and headed for the hall.
“Me too,” Remy said, kissing my lips. “Night, killer.”
“Night.”
It wasn’t until they left that I realized they’d left me alone with Bram on purpose. Now we were standing side by side, the glow of the tree playing across his face, his arms folded across his muscular chest like he was trying to solve a problem instead of just looking at our tree.
“You have some good wingmen,” I said.
“When they’re not being dickheads.”
I laughed, suddenly nervous to be alone with him. I’d stopped worrying that he would reject me, turn cold again. Now I was more worried about myself. About what I’d do alone with him and how much it would hurt me in the end.
“Poe’s right,” I said. “You did good.”
He turned to look at me. “Yeah?”
I nodded. “It was a really nice thing to do.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I’m not usually nice, I know.”
“It’s never too late to change.”
“Do you believe that?” he asked.
I nodded. “Then again, maybe Remy’s right. Maybe we’re all who we are inside and we just need the right circumstances to bring it to the surface.”
He scowled. “Are you saying I’ve been nice all along?”
I grinned. “I would never.”
“I’m glad you like the tree,” he said.
I could feel his restraint, like a jet engine idling before takeoff, my body vibrating with the power of it.
Finally I stepped toward him in the glow of the Christmas lights.
And this time, I kissed his cheek, letting my lips linger on the scratchy scruff of his facial hair before turning for the hall.
“Night, Bram.”
I was almost to the stairs when he spoke. “Night, Maeve.”