38. Olivia

38

OLIVIA

I was twelve when my dad got arrested on Christmas Eve.

That day, he drank so much that he got in a fight outside of a local church during a freaking Christmas Carol service.

Very classy, I must say.

Jake and I were meant to stay with him that entire Christmas period, but when he got hauled off to jail to dry out and clean his act up, the two of us ended up at my mom’s new place at the eleventh hour.

Mom had remarried, and this was her first official Christmas as Mrs. Jones. Her new husband, Mr. Jones, was a nice enough man, but he also had two kids and they were staying with them for the holiday.

Meaning that Jake and I were given air mattresses and assigned to sleep in the living room.

My mom hadn’t counted on us being there, so she hadn’t bought enough food to cook for six people. The house also wasn’t big enough for all of us to stay comfortably, so we were pretty much on top of each other the entire time Jake and I were there.

The situation put me on edge, and when I talked to Mom about it, she kept insisting that it was totally fine that Jake and I had crashed her Christmas.

Yup. Crashed her Christmas.

She was almost apologetic for our presence—like being around her kids from her first marriage would taint her new, happy family.

When Dad finally sobered up, got out of jail, and came to pick us up on Christmas evening, I felt… relieved . If I went back to his place, I wouldn’t be in the way anymore. Wouldn’t be taking up space somewhere I didn’t belong.

I hoped that, maybe, we could have a do-over Christmas. Have a second dinner, the three of us, and everything would be fine because we were following our original plan. And then, next year, when we were scheduled to go to Mom’s place, she’d be prepared to host us, and that would be fine, too.

What actually happened was the opposite of fine:

Mom followed Dad out to the car, yelling at him for being selfish. He drove us home in silence, and the minute we got back, he went straight to the nearest bar.

Jake, who was fourteen at the time, was kind enough to watch Elf with me while we shared a box of Lindt truffles he’d swiped from Mom’s house. But I knew that he would’ve rather gone to see his friends, and the second the movie was over and I was getting ready for bed, he went out on his bike, pedaling off down our snow-covered cul-de-sac in the glow of the streetlights.

That night, I got into bed in an empty house, closed my eyes, and vowed to never celebrate Christmas again. Vowed to never get excited for a holiday that would just let me down, that did nothing but highlight the fact that I didn’t fit in anywhere.

The next morning, I woke up with a clear sense of relief—both because the holiday was over, and because I’d put a wall up to protect myself from ever feeling that way again.

Fourteen years later, Aaron Marino is breaking down those walls, brick by brick.

On Christmas Eve morning, I wake up snuggled into his chest after having the best night’s sleep I can remember. We make a pancake brunch for his mom and Nonna and the four of us go to Lenox Square Mall so Nonna can buy us all matching Christmas pajamas—something she insisted upon. After that, we head to a fresh fish market to load up on seafood for the Seven Fish dinner, which I learned is an Italian-American tradition the Marino family honor every year.

In the evening, we drive around the city and critique the Christmas lights, scoring each display. When we come home, Aaron lights the fire and we gather in the living room wearing our new pajamas to feast on the massive seafood platters that Aaron’s mom, Natalia, prepared for us.

It’s perfectly cozy and lovely, but there’s something deeper than that. A feeling of family. Togetherness.

And I don’t know if it’s Aaron, or this house, or his family’s warmth, or whether I’ve had a total brain transplant, but I feel a part of this togetherness. Like I belong here, in this scene.

I fall asleep on Christmas Eve wrapped once again in Aaron’s arms and feeling totally content. Full of delicious food and great conversation and cozy memories and that sense of warmth and home that has always evaded me—especially around the holidays—but is now, unbelievably, more and more present in my life.

And then, on Christmas morning…

“SNOW!”

My eyes flutter open and I groan, confused and disoriented after being unceremoniously yanked from a deep sleep. But when I fully open my eyes and sit up, I’m greeted by the sight of a shirtless Aaron standing at the window, looking like… well, looking like a kid on Christmas morning.

He turns around and gives me a guilty smile. “Oh, would you look at that. You’re awake,” he says lightly, and I throw a pillow at him.

“Thanks to your ten-thousand decibel meteorology report,” I retort, but I’m laughing.

“Sorry,” he says, sounding not the least bit sorry. “But now that you’re awake, come look!”

I roll out of his bed and make my way to the window to see the blanket of white on the ground outside. It’s sparse, but it’s there.

“Woah. It’s weird seeing snow here.” I press my hand against the window. The condensation feels cool against my palm.

“Best.” Aaron stands behind me and gently moves my hair aside so he can kiss my neck. “Day.” He kisses my neck again, and my entire body melts into him. “Ever.” Again, my head is spinning.

“We’ve barely even gotten out of bed,” I say with a laugh, looking back at him.

“I know. And my statement still stands.” He then claims my lips once again. When he pulls back, all too soon, his green eyes are soft. “I love snow. And I love that I get to spend today with you.”

My lips slide into a smile. “Merry Christmas, Aaron.”

“Merry Christmas, Olivia.”

And honestly, I feel it.

Merry, I mean. So much so that I dress in a cute sweater and a short skirt, and I even wear the snowmen earrings Nonna insisted on buying me at the mall yesterday. I braid my hair and apply the smallest amount of makeup, because photos on Christmas Day are a thing, right?

By the time I get downstairs, Aaron’s pouring coffee and has already started prepping for the “huge breakfast feast” he warned me was his family’s staple on Christmas morning. Seriously, I have never seen, nor eaten, so much food in my life. Nonna and Natalia are nowhere to be seen—they must have slept through the early morning snow memo.

As I pad over to Aaron and he hands me my coffee, I notice that he’s wearing his stupid T-rex Santa sweater again.

He’s never looked better.

“Hey, while we’re still alone.” He pauses, looking a little hesitant. “I got you something.”

It’s only then that I notice the gift-wrapped square package on the counter next to him. My eyebrows raise. “You got me a gift?”

“Fair warning, it’s nowhere near as good as your Aaron’s Army sweater.”

“Well, nothing could top that.” I laugh, but I’m touched.

Aaron passes the gift to me, and I open the package to find a set of white queen-size bed sheets.

One-thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton.

“Exactly the same as mine, but for a queen bed,” he explains as I run my thumb along the soft, luxurious material. “For your new apartment.”

“Thank you, Aaron. This is so thoughtful!”

It really is.

I just don’t have the heart to tell him that the apartment I’ll be moving into on January first is furnished with a double bed, and not a queen bed. It’s the thought that counts, and Aaron clearly put thought into this gift.

He bites his lower lip as he watches me gently stroke the incredible fabric. “Open the card.”

“Oh!”

I hadn’t noticed the red envelope tucked into the side of the packaging. I slide it open and out falls not a card, but what appears to be a folded document. A legal-looking document.

I squint at it. “It’s a… lease?”

Aaron nods. “For the apartment you wanted, the one in Kris’s building. Starting January first.”

“What?” My jaw drops open as I look at the paperwork again in confusion.

But, there it is.

My name is on the lease. Damage deposit, plus first and last month’s rent, are fully paid.

“You don’t have to take it if you don’t want,” Aaron says, apparently misunderstanding my silence. “I just knew that you hadn’t paid the deposit on the other apartment yet, and I could tell that you weren’t excited to live there. I didn’t want this one to get snatched up by someone else. But obviously, feel free to throw this in the trash and live where you please.”

The paper goes slack in my hands as I process this. For so long, I’ve been on my own and looking out for myself. But here I am, on Christmas morning, no longer alone but living in the house of my former nemesis, who is now giving me a gift that shows he’s looking out for me, too.

“How did you do this?”

“I called Kris after we left and told him that I’d like to lease it in your name.” His green eyes are boring into mine as he speaks.

“Naturally,” I mutter, my head spinning. With the first and last month’s rent and damage deposit all taken care of, this apartment is now viable for me. More than viable.

But this gift, it’s just… too much.

It’s beyond generous and kind and thoughtful and oh-so-Aaron. It also reminds me of the fact that the new year is less than a week away, and I’m going to miss being here, at his place, with him.

Is he going to miss me, too?

“I don’t know what to say,” I tell him honestly.

“You don’t have to say anything right now.” He shrugs. “This is your decision. I just didn’t want you to lose the option of living there.”

“And if I don’t take it?”

“I’ll sublease it, I guess.” He grins suddenly. “Or use it to store all my hockey memorabilia. After living in that guest room for a couple weeks, I was a little sick of staring at my own face. Which I didn’t think could ever happen, but here we are.”

“Here we are,” I echo, that now-familiar fluttery feeling gathering in my stomach once again. The Aaron effect on me, it seems. “Thank you. This is unbelievable.”

It continually surprises me how intuitive he is, how well he reads me. How well he knows me.

What a guy.

No. What a man.

He slides a hand around my back, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin at the waistband of my skirt in a way that makes my entire focus zone in on where he’s touching me. “I have a confession to make.”

He says this in a low voice that makes the flutters grow tenfold. “Oh, yeah?”

“My gift wasn’t entirely unselfish.”

“Is that right?” I run my hands up his firm chest, reveling in the way my touch makes his heartbeat quicken. “Let me guess, you wanted to test out that shower, too?”

His chuckle is deep and dirty. “No. Well, yes, that was on my mind. But showers aside, I like the idea of you living in that apartment because it’s so close to this house.”

“So we can still have slasher movie and Scrabble nights after I move out?” I ask with a smirk.

His hand moves to cup my face, his thumb dragging slowly and sexily over my lower lip. “So I can spend as much time as possible with you.”

And if that doesn’t make my entire stomach swoop.

“Awh, you’re going to miss me being your roomie,” I tease, but my voice comes out all throaty. Because honestly, knowing that Aaron might miss me as much as I’ll miss him when I move out feels like another incredible gift.

“I am. But I heard somewhere that it’s best not to start a new relationship while living with the person.” He smirks. “Apparently, that part usually comes later.”

My breath catches. “Relationship?”

“That’s what I want this to be, if it’s what you want.” His fingertips trace my jaw. “I just want to be with you, Olivia. Whatever you want that to look like, I’m here for it. I’m yours.”

I’m yours.

He’s mine.

We belong to each other.

“I think that’s what I want this to be, too,” I say, a lump forming in my throat.

Aaron’s eyes are full of fire and tenderness, longing and desire. His hand presses firmly into my back, pulling me flush against his chest. And just when his lips are about to meet mine…

A squeal behind me startles me so much, I almost fall over.

“What on earth?!”

Aaron is laughing. “I think Nonna may have been eavesdropping on our conversation.”