Staying in California wouldn’t change that.
Chapter Eighteen
I smoothed my short red dress over my thighs and blotted my lips together. Marie had spent more than an hour on my hair, and even more time debating the best makeup, shoes, and dress to wear. I knew I looked good, even if I felt like a wreck. I wouldn’t let my fear over the future ruin what tonight could be. What it would be.
It was our last night together, and I was going to make the most of it.
I slid the key into the lock, took a deep breath, and walked inside. The lights were dim, and candles were on the table. The whole apartment smelled like Christmas dinner, and soft carols played in the background. A bare tree stood in place at the window, and Finn was nowhere to be seen.
A suit was laid out across the bed, next to his phone. I smiled and walked up to it, running my hands over the soft fabric. I knew how much he hated dressing up, so knowing he was doing it showed me how special he was trying to make tonight. He didn’t have to dress up to make me happy, but he didn’t get that yet.
That’s all right. I’d have all the time in the world to show him that…once he came back. And he would come back. There was no alternative in my mind.
The bathroom door opened, and he came out with nothing but a towel on. He saw me standing there and froze mid-step, his gaze sliding up and down my body. “Holy shit, babe. You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you.” I walked up to him and ran my hands over his damp chest. “So do you. Screw the suit, just lose the towel and we’ll be good to go.”
He grinned and leaned down, kissing me gently before he stepped out of my arms. “Not happening. We’re having the date I should have given you the other night.”
I pouted. “But—”
“No buts.” He dropped the towel, and my jaw dropped as I watched the back view. Hot damn, the boy was fine. I mean, I already knew that, obviously. But still. The way his butt curved from his lower back to his hard upper thighs? Wow. “We’re doing this my way. It’s Christmas Eve.”
I blinked at him. “No, it’s not. It’s not even Thanksgiving yet.”
He stepped into his boxers and shot me a disappointed look. “Look at the calendar on the wall.”
“Okay…” I walked over to the Santa calendar and looked. He’d left the month open to December, and he had crossed off all the days up until Christmas Eve. My heart twisted and tears filled my eyes, but I blinked them away before turning back to him with a smile. “You’re right. Silly me.”
He grinned and stepped in to his pants. “It’s okay. I’ll forgive you this one time. But as soon as I’m all dressed, the festivities begin. We have a tree to decorate, presents to open…” He walked over to me and wrapped me in his arms, smiling down at me the whole time. “And, of course, some good old-fashioned holiday sex to partake in, too.”
I rested my hands over his heart, which sped up as soon as I touched him. “Of course. I wouldn’t miss that for the world.”
“Let me get dressed.” He leaned down and kissed me. “Then we’ll check on dinner.” He kissed my nose this time. “And after that we’ll get started.”
“Okay,” I said, my voice cracking. This was all so sweet and perfect and so Finn. And I was going to miss him so freaking much. I swallowed hard as he turned away, sinking down onto the couch. He’d put out a bunch of tiny Santa figurines on the coffee table, and cinnamon potpourri, too. “You even got Christmas potpourri.”
He looked over his shoulder at me. “Huh?”
“This stuff,” I said, pointing at the bowl.
“Oh, is that what it’s called?” He shrugged into his shirt. “It reminded me of what my home used to smell like when my mom was alive.” He looked off toward the tree, his brow furrowed. “At Christmastime, she used to put out Santa figures, angels, and bowls of that smelly stuff all over the house. Even in my bedroom.”
“She sounds like she was wonderful,” I said, standing up and crossing the room to place my hand on his arm. “I bet I would have loved her very much.”
“And, man, she would have loved you.” He met my eyes, the far-off look he’d had earlier disappearing. But the sadness lingered, despite the smile he gave me. “When I was planning on how to make it feel like Christmas for you, the only thing I could think of was what she would have done. I copied it.”
“I love it.” I reached up on tiptoe. “It’s perfect.”
He curled his hands around my waist. “No, you’re perfect.”
He was wrong. He was the one who said and did all the right things. I was fumbling along, trying to act as if I wasn’t a complete mess. I was probably failing miserably.
“What did she do for a living?”
“She was a teacher. Third grade.” He buttoned his shirt, his hands steady. “She said that was the best age to teach because they were old enough to take care of themselves, but they hadn’t reached the cocky, know-it-all stage yet.”
I laughed. “That sounds about right.”
“Do you want kids someday?” he asked, his voice deep as he buttoned his shirt. “Little Carries running around the house causing trouble?”
I snorted. “I think it’s the little Finns that will be causing trouble. Not the Carries. And yeah, I’d like two or three kids in, like, ten years maybe. You?”
His fingers froze on the second to last button. It wasn’t until he looked at me, all heated eyes and kiss me now lips, that I realized why. I’d mentioned having kids with him instead of the fictional kids with my fictional husband. But when I pictured that life, I saw him at my side. I knew it. He knew it. Why pu**yfoot around?
“I want two or three, too,” he said, his voice raw and his eyes on mine. “And ten years is perfect.”
I let out the breath I’d been holding and smiled at him. “It’s a plan.”
“It’s taking all my control not to pick you up right now, throw you onto that bed, and practice making babies with you without actually making any.” He finished up the last button. “But I have a plan on how tonight is going to go, you see. And I’m trying my best to follow it. So if you could stop looking so damn irresistible and stop saying all these things that make me want to kiss you, I’d appreciate it.”
He curled his hand behind my neck and hauled me against his chest, and the breath whooshed out of my lungs right before he melded his mouth to mine, stealing all conscious thought. I closed my fists over his white dress shirt, wrinkling the material, but I didn’t think he’d mind. Right now all that mattered was this. Us.