Page 33 of Ho Ho Mafioso

“Getting festive, are we?”

Enzo’s voice came from behind me, low and amused. He leaned against the door frame, sleeves rolled up, a faint smudge of grease on his wrist from whatever he’d been fixing this time.

I turned back to the garland. “Someone has to make this place feel less like a bunker.”

“It’s supposed to be a bunker; to keep you safe.”

I ignored that, balancing on my toes to add tinsel to the garland on the fireplace. “You could help, you know. There’s lights that need to be hung up.”

He crossed the room and picked up a string of lights off the table. “You really think this changes anything?”

“It changes how it feels.”

He looked at me for a moment, then at the table of decorations again. “Fair point. Where do I put these?”

“Around the window,” I instructed.

He did as I asked, securing lights around the window.

I smiled. “You’re a natural.”

Frowning, he arched a brow at me. “Don’t push it.”

We worked in silence for a while — me untangling lights, him pretending not to help while definitely helping. The quiet between us wasn’t awkward anymore. It was something… softer.

Then I stepped back to look at the room, hands on my hips, and froze.

Something was wrong.

The lights glowed, stockings were hung, the tinsel shimmered faintly, candles flickered on the table. It should’ve looked like Christmas. But it didn’t.

“What?” Enzo asked.

I bit my lip. “Something was missing.”

He scanned the room. “What could possibly be missing?”

I turned slowly toward the corner where it should’ve been obvious all along.

“Oh, no,” I whimpered.

He frowned. “What?”

“I forgot a tree.”

He blinked. “You what?”

“I forgot to get a Christmas tree!” I threw my hands up. “I bought lights, ornaments, cookies—but not the one thing that actually makes it Christmas.”

His mouth twitched, just barely. “You’re kidding.”

Covering my face with my hands, I sat on the couch. “I wish I was.”

He looked at me, then at the empty corner again, and laughed, low in his throat.

I was so upset I didn’t even want to look at him. “It’s not funny.”

“It kinda is,” he replied with a chuckle.