Page 72 of Frankie and the Fed

“Very much.” I can’t believe she’s agreed to come with me.

She dresses in jeans and a red sweater, and the long white coat I bought her. She looks to me like the most beautiful woman in the world.

We walk around the tree lot, looking for the perfect tree. Light snow falls and joins the piles already on the ground. There is no one here but us. I don’t know if it’s because of the cold or because it’s already so close to the holiday.

“Maybe this one?” She points to a huge one, much too tall.

“How the hell do we get it into the apartment?”

She continues to search, rubbing her hands together and blowing on them.

“Didn’t you bring gloves?”

“I didn’t know it would be so cold.”

I forget she’s not used to snow. “Take mine.” I watch as she puts them on and holds her hands up for me to see. They are huge on her, and it’s so cute. I laugh, and she smiles. A real smile.

God, she’s so gorgeous when she smiles. I’ve missed it.

I take some snow in my hand, ignoring the fact that I’m without gloves now, and throw it at her.

She squeals and looks at me in astonishment as it hits her in the center of her body. For a moment, I think I may have gone too far, but then playfulness appears in her eyes, and she bends down into the snow.

I turn and start running.

She knows how to aim. I’m hit with a snowball in the back, then another straight in the face as I turn to throw another.

I shake my head, trying to get the snow out of my hair. She looks at me, amused, and I throw another ball at her, hitting her shoulder.

The snowballs are fired in succession while we dodge between the fir trees. I enjoy hearing her squeal with happiness. When I finally catch her in my arms and spin her in the snow, her blue eyes sparkle, and I can’t help but kiss her.

We just stand there, hugging, the snow falling on us, and we sink into each other, blind to the world. For a moment, I don’t even feel the cold.

As the magic ends, we go back to searching for that perfect tree. She chooses our tree and insists that we take it home ourselves. I can’t refuse anything she asks.

It takes an hour and a half. The tree falls twice on the way, and my arms are sore and red, but I’m not complaining because she finally looks like my Bambi. I’m prepared to carry twenty trees to see her like this, to see the hope and joy in her eyes.

After we put the tree in the living room corner, I bring the boxes of ornaments from the closet and the small box with Anna’s bird. The hummingbird she once asked our mother to order when she was obsessed with it. The one I hang every year at the top of the tree.

Ayala gently takes it out of the box. “It’s beautiful, Ethan. Can I hang it up for her?”

She climbs the ladder, stretching herself up to reach the top. I can’t take my eyes off the bare piece of skin between her shirt and jeans.

How terrible is it that I get a kick out of it? Shit. I shift uncomfortably just as she turns to me with questions in her eyes.

“Sorry. I’m just horny. Don’t pay attention to me.” I try to laugh it off and stir the conversation away.

She comes down from the ladder and stands in front of me. “You may be horny, but you’re my horny... I’m sorry. I was too absorbed in myself. I didn’t think how you must be feeling.”

“No,” I say. “What you went through—”

“You’re going through it, too. We were both there. And you’re also being accused of murder.”

“I—” A ring from my pocket interrupts us. Ugh. I want her to know it will be okay.

“Yes, Ryan?”

“You should look out the window, Wolf. There’s a protest outside your building.”