Page 28

28

ANDI

When I made that stupid comment about wishing I could go back to bed, it was because I was thinking that I have a child to look after.

And then Ford reminded me that I don’t have a child to look after, and I could go back to bed.

It felt like a slap.

And I was already confused.

We just had an amazing overnight date where Ford went all out.

But what does it really mean?

I still don’t know.

I wanted to think it meant something important, that Ford’s feelings for me are changing.

Because my feelings for him are changing.

I’m falling in love with him.

And I’m terrified.

He never said anything, though.

Through the romantic dinner and his vulnerability in telling me about his therapy, all during the bubble bath and champagne and the kisses and orgasms, I started hoping.

And then he said that, and splat, I was back down to earth.

I need to be careful.

I have to keep telling myself that when I bring home a small Christmas tree.

I should put it in my apartment, but I want it for Tilly.

She’s too young to know what it is, but I want her to have that experience, so I haul it into Ford’s place while he’s at a practice.

Lieve is there and admires the tree, helping me put it up.

Back at my place, I dig out the ornaments that Trevor and I used to decorate our tree with.

I haven’t put up a tree since the divorce.

After studying them, I carry them to the trash and toss them in.

Then I go shopping for new ones.

Ford has a late day because they’re shooting photos and videos for social media for Christmas, wearing ugly sweaters and posing in awkward photos, so I spend the afternoon working.

Around five o’clock I get a text.

FORD

We have a problem.

Is it about the tree?

Is he joking or does he hate it?

ANDI

What is it?

FORD

Come over here.

ANDI

Come over here…

?

FORD

(eye roll emoji) Please

I grin and save what I’m working on, then go next door.

I walk in and breathe in the fresh evergreen aroma, and then I see my little tree…

and another huge one.

My mouth drops open and I look over at Ford, who laughs.

“See?”

I tilt my head and walk closer.

“Did you get a tree, too?”

“Yeah. The social media guy was asking us who puts their tree up first, and I realized I don’t even have a tree, or ornaments. I’ve never bothered. So I picked up a tree on the way home.”

I bite my lip.

“Great minds think alike.”

“Apparently.”

“I can take my tree to my place.”

“Okay. Then you can have one there, too.”

“I bought ornaments but not enough for that tree.” It’s a six-foot Douglas fir.

“We can get more. Let’s go shopping.”

“I just did that!” I protest, but I’m laughing.

So we make another trip back to the garden center where he bought the tree.

Tilly’s in the sling on his front as he shows her ornaments and adds them to the cart which is soon full of all kinds of décor for the tree, including a “Baby’s First Christmas” ornament that makes my throat clog with emotion.

I hide one ornament from him, and pay for it myself on the way out.

Then we go home to decorate.

Home.

To his home.

Not our home.

I’m getting all sentimental and soft again.

I have to be careful.

How much longer do we have?

It’s been three months since Willa left Tilly here, and she has to be coming back soon.

And then what?

When Tilly’s gone, Ford won’t need me anymore.

Our arrangement will end.

We’ll go back to being friends.

Or maybe not even that.

Tilly seems entranced by the lights and sparkly things, bouncing in her seat as we decorate, and Ford helps her “hang” a few things.

We lose one ornament when she grabs it off the tree before he can stop her and hurls it to the floor.

We look at each other with “yikes” faces, then burst out laughing.

It’s hard not to feel the spirit of the season, a sense of togetherness and shared traditions and new traditions.

Joy.

But I have to be careful.

That’s why I go home to sleep in my own bed tonight.