He shook his head. “I don’t think this is a good idea.”
“Sure, it is. After all, it’s almost Christmas.”
“But this is your tree, not mine.” He knew it was a lame excuse, but he just couldn’t bring himself to admit the truth—he felt guilty celebrating without June.
“For as long as you’re here with me, it’s our tree. Yours, mine and Gizmo’s.” At that point, the dog’s ears perked up. Mae turned to her pup and said, “Isn’t that right, boy?”
As if on cue, Gizmo barked. Spontaneous laughter erupted in Jackson. These two seemed determined to cheer him up. And it was working.
He normally wasn’t that easily amused, but being around Mae and her dog was bringing out a whole new side in him. And he honestly didn’t know what to make of it—what to make of the way Mae made him feel.
* * *
This isn’t a good idea.
It’ll be fine.
The conflicting thoughts piled one on top of the other. But it came down to the fact that Serena felt sorry for Jackson. How could a man who appeared to have everything miss out on the spirit of Christmas?
To her, Christmastime was going beyond your normal comfort zone in order to lend others a helping hand. She tried to do it year-round, but filming schedules usually upended her best efforts to visit the soup kitchen during the rest of the year.
She’d been doing it for years now. At first, she’d done it in defiance of her father, who’d said that no Winston should be pandering to others. How she was related to that man was beyond her. They disagreed about most everything. When she was young, she used to wonder if they’d mixed up the babies in the hospital nursery. She’d even said it once to her father—he hadn’t taken it well, at all.
But the more time she spent at the soup kitchen, the more she liked the people there. She soon learned that her attendance wasn’t so much about what she could give them but rather what they gave her. They reminded her that there was so much more to life than money and contracts. Because in the end, it was about love and kindness.
Of course, none of those people knew her true identity, either. She’d always wear a wig and dress in baggy T-shirts and faded jeans that she’d picked up at a secondhand store. She’d quickly learned just how comfortable those casual clothes could be—
“And what are you thinking about?” Jackson asked as he placed a hook on a glass ornament.
What would it hurt to share her thoughts? After all, they were living here together for the foreseeable future. It wasn’t like she was going to open up and spill her whole life story.
“I was thinking about what I would be doing now if I were at home.”
“Let me guess, shopping at the mall. Your arms would be full of shopping bags with gifts for your family.”
She shook her head. “Not even close.”
He blinked as though shocked by her denial. “Hmm...let’s see. You’d be on holiday on a cruise ship.”
“Although I like the way you think, that’s not it.”
He shrugged. “Okay. I give up. What would you be doing?”
“Working in a soup kitchen.”
He didn’t say anything, but the shock was quite vivid in his eyes. And he wouldn’t stop staring. He made her want to squirm, but she held her ground.
“Why are you looking like I joined the circus?”
He visibly swallowed. “I’m sorry. I think what you do is great. It’s just that I’m not used to people around me being so giving with their time. Everything in my world is rush-rush.”
Surely he couldn’t be that impressed. She’d watched his show regularly and knew that he attended fund-raisers. “And if you were in New York, what would you be doing?”
He shrugged. “Not much.”
“But it’s the holidays. Come on. Maybe you’d be attending some prestigious event.”
He shook his head. She glanced into his eyes and noticed how the light in them had dimmed. And then it dawned on her that the look in his eyes was one of pain and loss. His wife had died a while back. And now that she thought about it, she hadn’t glimpsed any photos of him at the various gala events since his wife had passed away.