Chapter 31

chapter 31

EMMALINE

“Where are we going?” I ask as he pulls the new Atlanta Jets knit cap down over my eyes.

“Don’t peek. Jolie, that means you too,” he commands.

The fabric envelops my face, blocking out any hint of where we are, but the cold, crisp air and the familiar scent of pine trees gives our destination away. When our steps carry us closer, he says, “Okay, open your eyes.”

My eyes widen in amazement. “Whoa,” comes from Jolie’s lips. A sign reads:

Jimbo’s Christmas Tree Palace

Rows upon rows of beautiful fir and pine trees stretch out before me. The bright green tops of the trees contrast against the fake white snow covering the ground, making it look like a Hallmark movie.

My family always had a fake tree and fake snow adorning our living room during Christmas. We pulled out ornaments from our childhood, and Mom always made a fuss even as we got older that we would decorate the tree together.

“I thought the three of us could pick one out. It will be our first Christmas together,” Bryce says to Jolie but then stares at me. He lifts Jolie onto his shoulders and continues, “We’ll buy one where you can reach the top, and we’ll put a big star on top.”

Jolie shakes her head with excitement. Bryce and I walk side by side as children run around excitedly, families laughing and picking out their favorite trees. The warm glow of lights adorn a smattering of trees. It’s a sight to behold, and I can’t help but feel a sense of Christmas magic as I stroll with my secret boyfriend. I could have this… him and Jolie.

Christmas music plays on the speakers above, and Jolie sings quietly along with the song. Bryce is right—the sound of her voice is so pure, she’s like an angel.

We weave through a patch, and Jolie squeaks, “This one.”

I grab the tag and read, “White Pine. The All-American tree with soft needles, sturdy branches with excellent needle retention.”

Within a few seconds, I sneeze repeatedly.

An employee walks over. “Ma’am, you might be sensitive to pine trees. May I suggest cypress? They’re known for their hypo-allergenic qualities.”

“It’s their tree.” I point to the handsome man with a Carhart coat, tight-fitting jeans around the thighs, an Atlanta Jets hat, a heart-clenching smile, and a little girl on his shoulders.

“Rusti, it’s our tree. We’ll be celebrating Christmas together.” He lifts his brows and mouths the words, “You’re mine.”

He puts his hands under Jolie’s armpits and lifts her up and safely to the ground. She touches the branch. This Leyland Cypress is asymmetrical with branches sticking out in all directions.

“Jolie, get the one you love.”

Bryce jumps in, “Let’s get two. We’ll put one on the patio and one in the living room.”

Jolie bounces on her toes, clapping. It’s a good thing we brought Bryce’s truck because two eight-foot trees take up the entire truck bed. Bryce gets the valet guys to help him get it into the penthouse.

They help hold it so we can get it straight and screw in the rods into the base of the tree. Jolie looks at the cypress that now stands in the living room. Bryce corkscrews his lips to the side. “It was magical at Jimbo’s, but here… it seems barren. I’ll call and get them to deliver the best one they have.”

“No,” slips from Jolie’s lips.

“Bryce Wynward. All it needs is a little love,” I say with my hands on my hips.

Bryce sways behind me and whispers in my ear, “That’s all I need too.”

He smells like Christmas trees and sweat from dragging the tree into the penthouse. The masculine scent makes me dizzy combined with rasp in his words.

“Jolie, let’s get out the arts and crafts, and we’ll make some ornaments tonight. But we can’t decorate it until after Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is an important holiday where we celebrate our family.”

She crawls into my lap. “Can you be my mommy?”