Page 51 of 27 Kisses

Two Days until Christmas

Garrett’s kitchen is a dream.That warms my heart. Because Garrett knows jack-all about kitchen appliances. And he didn’t pick the most expensive, which I would expect. He picked the ones I would have chosen. Which means he listens to me. On Saturday mornings, when he was still in New York and just visiting, we would watch the cooking shows. I always complained about the choices made and the equipment used.

Don’t get me wrong. My kitchen in the diner is well-equipped to feed an entire town—though not all at once. But if something breaks, we fix it. I rarely buy new. It would eat away at our profits.

And he has two ovens. A man after my own heart. As I prepare the pumpkin cheesecake, his hand presses against my lower back. I didn’t even hear him come in.

“How’s the baking?”

My hands are full, so I turn and nod for him to get closer. Then I kiss him. “Have I mentioned I fucking love you?”

“Once or twice. But I love hearing it.”

This kiss is more as he captures my bottom lip and bites down. I have to pull away to keep my cheesecake from falling.

“Now go away. You’re distracting me.”

Once the cheesecake is setting up in the refrigerator, I go in search of Garrett. He’s decorating the living room, and it looks amazing. He draped a lush garland with eucalyptus, pine cones, and small berries over the mantel and added a flocked evergreen wreath above it. Even the bookcase is decorated with delicate crystal Christmas trees. The room is bursting with color, but it doesn’t look thrown together. It’s classy. Just like him.

I pick up one of the trees. It’s delicate. And beautiful. I carefully return it to its place. “I’m impressed.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him closer.

“Hmm. I can feel how impressed you are.”

I laugh. “Competent Garrett does things for me. Do we have time for a —”

His phone beeps. “Hold on. Sorry.”

It must be a text. His fingers fly as he responds.

“Nat?” I guess.

“Yes.” He sighs and presses his thumb against his forehead. He’s stressed.

“Go,” I say, pushing on his chest. “Take care of things.”

“Are you sure, Aidyn? I mean, you closed the diner.”

I kiss him. “I’m sure. But don’t take too long. And no leaving tomorrow during the family dinner.”

He laughs. “That shouldn’t be too hard since we’re not open tomorrow.”

After a few more kisses that I stretch out just because I can, he leaves. It does help knowing he’s just a mile or so down the road.

While he’s gone, I do as much prep as I can. Tomorrow needs to go well. No disasters.

It’s midmorning before Jane brings Lanie home. Where the feck did that thought come from? This is Garrett’s home, not ours.

Lanie is now obsessed with mint hot chocolate. We sit around Garrett’s kitchen table with our mugs. I eye the Bailey’s Irish Cream. Would it be insensitive to add some to my hot chocolate?

As much as I’m still angry with Jane, I love seeing my daughter happy and excited. She has a lot of moody days, but hell, so do I. It would be good for her to have someone to share things with—someone not her dad. Can I trust Jane? I can’t let Lanie get hurt again.

As Lanie and Jane argue over the best Christmas movies, snippets of last night’s conversation with Garrett bombard me.

I want everyone to know, Aidyn. It’s getting harder and harder to hide that you and Lanie are my whole world.