But I reach for the bag of mail and not the presents, so he moves out of reach and grins. “Nice try.” Then he nods his head towards the cabin. “Come on, let’s go inside. I made a big deal about this year.”
“How did you know I would come? We haven’t had Christmas in two years.”
Our boots thud on the wooden steps of the porch as we climb them. “Two’s your limit, Wendy. We’ve never gone more than two.”
Huh. I hadn’t actually noticed that, but he’s right. Two is our limit. In more ways than one, though. We’ve never spent more than two in a row together, either.
Even though his hands are full and mine are empty, he pulls the door open for me and lets me go first. I really like Nick’s manners. It’s such a contradiction, but that’s what makes it so appealing.
When I step inside, I stop so abruptly that he bumps into me. “Keep going,” he laughs, pushing me forward.
I go all the way inside and get out of the way so he can close the door behind us. But I can’t move after that. I’m too stunned by how the cabin looks.
“Wow,” I sigh. “This is… wow. It looks like something out of a magazine.”
“You like it?” Nick is already dropping my duffle in my bedroom.
“It’s…” It’s fucking gorgeous, is what it is. I mean, I don’t even know how to process what I’m looking at. My little cabin has been transformed. And it smells like… love.
There is a Christmas tree in the corner. Not a big one. Maybe five feet tall. Real, but sparse and spindly. Old-fashioned. Like maybe he cut it down from the forest in the backyard. But it’s decorated like the ones you see in boutiques. And when I walk over there and touch one of the felt ornaments, I realize it has a theme.
Forest animals.
But not that overdone woodsy bear and moose thing that’s so common. No red and black checkered patterns, either. It’s all very muted. Very subtle shades of cream, and brown, and sage green, and pastel pink. Like a unicorn dropped by my cabin and sprinkled some magic.
Nick comes up behind me. His hands are free again, so he wraps them around my arms and presses his chest up against my back. “I was passing by this boutique in downtown Louisville on my way out here. There was a tree in the window that looked like it belonged in the living room of a sugarplum fairy. I bought all the decorations.”
“I love it.” This is not a lie. I love everything about this room right now. Not just the tree, which is perfect. The little wooden table that Chek and I sat at for eleven years has fresh flowers in the center, those red Christmas ones everyone puts out. But there are white roses too, and lots of dark greenery. It’s situated in a large brass bowl that flickers with a dozen strings of Edison-bulb lights. And the table is set for two. Plates, and bowls, and champagne glasses. There are cloth napkins and placemats.
“I cut the tree down myself,” Nick says.
I turn and face him. Study the way the lights flicker in his brown eyes. Memorize the happiness on his face. “It’s all so pretty, Nick. Did you hire a decorator? When did you get here?”
His smile falters a little. “I’ve been here since your birthday.”
“What?”
“Yeah. I kinda knew you weren’t coming last summer, but I stopped by anyway. Waited for you. Where were you?”
This last part isn’t exactly an accusation, but there’s a hint of annoyance in his tone.
“I’ve been working with Adam.”
He barely reacts. “What do you do for Adam?”
“Little bit of this, little bit of that. Mostly, I just get information for him. Keep my eye out for things that might need our attention. He almost never listens to me, so I don’t know why I even bother. But he pays me, so I guess that’s why.”
Nick does not believe me. Not the part about Adam. I’m sure he already knew I did odd jobs for Adam. No killing, or anything like that. It’s been several years since I killed anyone. But he doesn’t believe my answer as to why.
I don’t need money. I have so much money stashed all over the world, I couldn’t even begin to count it.
So Nick nods his head. Just once. It’s not really a nod, it’s a ‘oh, I see’ kind of gesture. One that says that question was more polite small talk than sit-rep. “I’ve left messages for you. So has Nathan.”
“I haven’t checked them, Nick. Not in a very long time.”
He wants to be mad at me, I can tell. But he lets out a breath and his annoyance goes with it. “So you really did miss all my fuck-you messages.”