“Yeah.”
I waited for him to say more.
He didn’t say more.
“Did I miss the invitation to move in with you?” I asked.
His humor yet again returned. “No.”
I waited for him to say more.
Again, he didn’t.
“Are you gonna steal my decorations so you have them next year?” I asked.
His amused face got close.
“No, baby. I’m gonna put in two decent bathrooms. Then I’m gonna buy better furniture because my shit sucks. After that, after we’re all good and used to each other and I got a nice home to offer my woman and her boy, a real home, a comfortable home, I’m gonna invite them to move in with me. When they accept, I’m gonna have to accept all her shit. There’s a lot of it and it includes fifteen boxes of Christmas crap. And don’t deny you got fifteen boxes, sweetheart, because Ethan and I lugged every one of those fuckers out of your garage, and when we did, we counted them.”
He said the last quickly because I’d opened my mouth.
He also didn’t stop talking.
“So, to end, we’ll have your shit here next year, so we don’t need expensive stuff for the tree we have this year.”
“The master is pretty big, gorgeous,” I said quietly. “We could put a tree in there next year with our new decorations.”
His expression got more amused. “Jesus, Cherie, no one needs a tree in their bedroom.”
“But I want one.”
“Then get what you want to decorate this year, and next year, we’ll put a tree in our bedroom.”
I stared into his eyes.
That came right out. No hesitation, it came right out. Right out of Garrett Merrick’s mouth.
I told him I wanted a tree in the bedroom; he told me to get what I want.
A girl who didn’t dream sure as hell was smart enough never to want. She took what she could get and that was that.
And just like that, no hesitation, I wanted something silly.
And Merry gave me what I wanted.
“You want us to move in with you.”
My voice was funny—quiet, husky.
His voice was not quiet or husky. It was deep and kind of incredulous, like he couldn’t believe I hadn’t figured it out yet.
“Of course I do, brown eyes. I bought this house for you.”
My throat suddenly felt tight.
He…
What?
I kept staring as I forced out, “What?”
“More house than I needed at a price higher than I wanted. But you liked it. You like water. Ethan’s got his space. We got ours. We got together space. We got expansion space. So I bought it.”
I kept staring at him, but something happened while I did.
He watched me a beat, saw that something happen, and said, “Fuck, you’re gonna cry again, aren’t you?”
I slapped his shoulder and snapped, “I’ve cried once with you, Merry. Once.”
“Well, this time I don’t have time to get you through it. I gotta get Ethan to school.”
I gotta get Ethan to school.
He took my kid to school every day. Every day. Unless he was out on an early morning case, which was rare, it was no fail.
Every day.
Mornings were now our thing, the three of us, but the school run was Merry and Ethan’s thing.
I felt wet hit my cheek.
“Shit,” he muttered, watching the tear fall.
“Stop making me happy,” I whispered.
His eyes came back to mine and his were dancing.
But when he replied, he was whispering too.
“Not gonna happen.”
“You need to be annoying on a more regular basis,” I demanded softly.
His body started shaking and his voice was doing it as well when he stated, “That’s not gonna happen either.”
“Okay, then you need to go because I have a lake house Christmas theme to plan and execute and that’s not gonna happen when you’re standing here being awesome.”
He audibly started laughing, and in the middle of it, he kissed me.
His laughter tasted great on my tongue.
The best.
“Okay, guys,” Ethan shouted. “Are you done with the gooey? ’Cause I been waitin’ in the hall, like, forever. I might not wanna get to school, but I’m cruisin’ toward perfect attendance third year running, which includes not being tardy, and, you take much longer, you’re messin’ with that mojo.”
Merry broke the kiss, and when he did, my tears had subsided.
This was because Merry’s kiss, as ever, was a good one.
It was also because my man and I were standing in his kitchen in his lake house, which would soon be my kitchen in our lake house, and we were staring at each other, laughing at my kid.
And I was finding I had a life that was filled with a lot of that.
Laughter.
So now, for a different reason, I had no room for tears.
* * * * *
I stood in Bobbie’s Garden Shoppe in her enormous Christmas section that was renown throughout the Midwest. It was this because it was so huge, she had to dedicate half her shop to it and half her parking lot, seeing as she had massive heavy-duty, heated tents where more of her Christmas crap was displayed.
I was there and had been for forty-five minutes.
But I found what I was looking for.
So there I stood, staring at a Christmas tree, and I was pretty certain I was going to buy the whole damn thing as it was—ornament by ornament, garland by garland—and resurrect it in Merry’s awesome new lake house. It was boho to the max, colorful with lots of berries and crystals and differently sized and shaped ornaments, very cluttered, stuffed full, totally awesome.