Chapter Fifteen
Lily
When I arrived back at my apartment, Rhys was waiting in the hall on his phone.
Only, he wasn’t alone.
Next to him was something seven feet tall, bushy, and green.
“Oh my God,” I gasped. “What have you done?”
“There she is,” he said, putting away his phone and grinning right at me. “You like?”
“Are you serious?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I blinked at him. “It’s a Christmas tree.”
He nodded slowly.
“You got us a Christmas tree.”
“Not just any Christmas tree. It’s a Balsam Fir. The guy said it had the most Christmas-y scent,” he informed me proudly.
I walked over to it, leaned close, and breathed in.
“Good?”
“So good,” I said dreamily before popping back into reality. “Wait. This is crazy. You seriously got us a tree?”
“Well, I saw you only had that small one, and I was walking down Delancey Street, and there was a tree lot, so, yeah. I figured it was a safe impulse buy. You like it?”
A smile spread over my face. “I love it. But it’s huge. Are you sure it will fit?”
He tilted his head and grinned at me until I realized what I’d just said.
“Perv,” I said, socking him gently on his arm.
“Shall we get it inside?”
A few minutes later, I’d cleared a space by the window, and Rhys had carried it into position.
“Wow. That looks so great.” I inhaled deeply. “I haven’t had a real tree in years. It smells so good.”
“My pleasure.”
We stood next to each other for a minute, just admiring how nice it looked.
“Well, I should get going.” He stuck his hands in his jeans pockets.
“You, uh, you don’t have to,” I said. “I think I have some wine if you want.”
Rhys’ eyes met mine, and he scratched the back of his head. “I wish I could, but I’m meeting someone at the studio.”
“Oh, okay,” I said brightly, trying to mask any disappointment.
“I would change it, but they’re in from London and flying out tomorrow.”
I shook my head. “No, no, it’s totally cool. I just wanted to say thanks for the tree. Really, it’s all good.”
I walked him to the door.
“Raincheck?”
My stomach fluttered. “Sure, totally. Another time. Have fun at the studio.”
“Night, Liliana.”
I closed the door and went directly to the fridge for that aforementioned glass of wine.
And then I started arguing internally. First, I scolded myself.
Seriously, Lily? Wine? What were you thinking?
Then, I responded.
He brought me a tree. What else was I supposed to do? If a plumber comes over, you offer them water, right? It’s simply the nice thing to do. That’s all I was doing. He brought a tree, I offered wine. Emily Post would be proud.
And then the counter-argument:
Wine is not water, and Rhys Conner is not a delivery man, Liliana Hayes. You know better.