“Do I need to ask?” Lily pulls out a nutcracker smoking a joint.
Josefina and I break out into a fit of laughter while my mom covers her eyes.
“Ay, Dios. ?Dónde está la natividad?” My mom searches through the plastic bags of stuff I bought.
I cringe. “I forgot to grab one.”
“No, no, no. That’s unacceptable. I think I have a spare one from the flower shop.” Mom rushes out the front door and toward the store.
Josefina steps outside and returns with the fake Christmas tree. “Where do you want to put this?”
“I’m thinking Julian’s office.”
She steers me in that direction. “He’d absolutely love that.”
“Wait until you see the ornaments I bought. They’re truly one of a kind.”
Her cackle bounces off the tall ceilings, making Lily and me burst into laughter too. Mom shows up with a nativity scene and sets it up on a coffee table in the waiting room while Lily gift-wraps Sam’s desk.
Josefina and I enter Julian’s office and get to work assembling the Christmas tree in the corner opposite his desk.
“What gave you this idea?” She plugs in the cord in a socket, and the bulbs covering the tree flicker to life. The twinkling lights reflect off every shiny surface, nearly blinding us with their sheer intensity.
“Well, it all started with finding the Christmas tree at the art store in Detroit, and the plan kind of spiraled from there.”
Ay, Dios. ?Dónde está la natividad?: Oh, God. Where is the nativity?
“Does Julian know?”
“Vaguely.”
She laughs while shaking her head. “You two and your pranks.”
“Do you think he’ll hate it?”
“Maybe for a moment. He hasn’t decorated his house for Christmas, let alone his office.”
I gasp. “Like ever?”
She nods.
“That’s blasphemous.”
“I know. I bought him a fake tree because of his allergies, but it’s still in the garage gathering dust.”
“Why?”
“I haven’t wanted to ask. But I know this”—she motions at the pile of ornaments waiting to be hung—“will be good for him.”
“How so?”
“Because this is what life is all about.”
My brows tug together. “Decorating?”
“Living rather than going through the motions.”
Her comment hits far too close to home, so I thrust myself into the task of hanging the first ornament.
Ho for the Holidays.
Josefina breaks out into laughter at the cartoon image of Santa wrapped around a candy cane stripper pole.
“I love it.”
“My mom would have a heart attack.”
“Should we bring her in to watch her gasp and clutch at her cross?”
I laugh. “Tempting, but we’re on a time crunch.”
Josefina grabs one of an elf smoking out of a candy cane bong. “Classy.”
“Wait until you see the other ones I got.”
The twinkle in her eyes has little to do with the lights of the Christmas tree reflecting off them. “I’m so happy you’re back.”
Her sentence has two meanings, one of which has my throat getting all scratchy. If anyone understands the ups and downs that come with depression, it’s her.
“I’m happy I’m back too.”
She wraps her arms around me. “I’ve missed you.”
My sniffle could be misconstrued as an allergy to the Christmas-scented candle I lit, but I know the truth. I lost myself over the years and became a fraction of who I was meant to be, all because I thought that was a part of growing up.
I don’t plan on making that mistake again.
According to a late-night Sunday text from Sam, Julian wakes up at five a.m. and works out at his home gym before stopping by the Angry Rooster Café for a cup of iced coffee. Sam, who was sworn to secrecy about the surprise, promised me that the best place to intercept Julian would be at the coffee shop.
So I begrudgingly wake up at the crack of dawn, get dressed, and head over to the coffee shop before he gets there.
“Hey.” I wave from my spot at the back of the empty café.
“Dahlia?” Julian stares at me with a pinched expression.
“Morning.”
“What are you doing up this early?”
I take a long sip of my iced coffee. “I’ve decided to take a stab at being a morning person.”
“And how’s that going for you?”
“Ask me again after my next cup of coffee in ten minutes.”
“How many have you had?”
“Not enough to make me want to talk to you at six a.m.” He heads over to the register and places an order for two iced coffees the way I taught him while I drain the rest of mine and dump the empty cup in the nearby trash bin.
He returns with our two drinks. “Here. Can’t risk you starting off the morning with only one cup.”
I could blame my escalating heart rate on the steady stream of espresso pumping through my veins, but then I’d be lying.
“Thanks,” I manage despite the tightness in my throat.
The gesture is as sweet as the drink I take a sip of. While I chalked up his taking care of me the other night to being nice, this feels like so much more.
Go with the flow, Dahlia.
Easier said than done. I’ve never been that kind of person, thanks to my anxiety and chronic overthinking, so I’m not exactly one to roll with the punches and throw caution to the wind.
If I’m going to crash and burn, Julian isn’t my first choice for an eyewitness, but at least he knows me well enough to expect the worst.
Nice job finding the silver lining.
I have an extra bounce in my step as I follow Julian out of the coffee shop. Main Street is dead, with a majority of the shops remaining closed for the post-Harvest Festival blues, also known as cleanup day.
By the time we make it halfway to Julian’s office, I’m trembling from the slight chill in the air and the iced coffee in my hand.
“You good?” He peeks over at me.
“Yup. Just cold.” I struggle with a button on the front of my pink tweed jacket.
His suggestive gaze explores my body. “Where’s your coat?”
“It clashed with my outfit.”
Julian catches me off guard as he places his iced coffee on a nearby bench and sheds his coat. He grabs my cup and does the same before helping my right arm into the sleeve of his jacket.
Two sweet gestures in a span of ten minutes? If this is the kind of treatment I get after a make-out session, I can’t imagine what will happen once I finally suck his cock.
“Do you plan on sticking around for winter now that the TV deal fell through?” Julian’s loaded question seems to kill two birds with one stone as he fixes the jacket to cover my broken arm.
I nudge him with my hip. “Why? Are you trying to get rid of me already?”
“I haven’t gotten started with you yet.” His tongue darts out to trace his bottom lip.
My body floods with warmth, banishing the chill.
Who needs a winter coat when a few sentences from Julian have my temperature spiking like I’m running a fever?
When we stop outside his office building, he doesn’t make a comment about the blinds being closed as he pulls out a set of keys from his pocket and incorrectly interprets the reason for my trembling fingers, swapping my iced coffee for his key.