Lena

 

 

Three weeks later

~ The day before Christmas Eve ~

 

 

 

 

"She looks so happy."

I watch as Risu scurries up a tree at the very far end of my yard, carrying a nut that I just gave her. She has fully recovered from her injury and has such a strong desire to move that keeping her locked up in the house, let alone in the cage, is out of the question now. I thought I'd keep her with me until the winter was over, but once the blizzard ended and we were hit by a streak of warmer weather, it felt like torture to continue keeping her locked up inside.

"So do you."

His voice pulls me out of my musings. I turn around and find Jason standing behind me in his dark wool coat and a grey cashmere scarf, a small dimple showing on his left side when he smiles at me.

"I look happy?" I ask him.

"As happy as a squirrel roaming the trees, with a never-ending supply of nuts," he says, winking. He tilts his head in the direction of the food station I built on my veranda. It's filled to the brim with hazelnuts and walnuts, and Risu is not the only one who comes back regularly to help herself.

"I like your analogies," I tell him.

He steps closer and wraps his arms around me.

"You're spoiling her," he says, his gaze fixated on the trees in the distance.

"I just want to make sure she's going to be okay," I say, leaning against his side.

"It's only going to be for a few days," he interjects. "And she's still a wild animal. She'll get by."

I sigh. "I'm sure you're right."

He plants a kiss on my forehead. "Are you ready?"

I shake my head. "No. But I don't think I ever will be."

He chuckles. "Fair enough. Let's go then."

I cast one last look at my squirrel friend. She is sitting on a branch, happily gnawing away on the nut and paying no attention to me at all. This may not be the last time I see her, but it still feels like goodbye, even though I'm only leaving town for a little more than a week.

We walk back inside the house and I lock the door behind me. It's odd to be going away for this long. I don't think I've been away from this house for more than a weekend since Oma died. And it feels all the more weird knowing what this trip will be about. A test run, of sorts. A way for us to figure out if what we have between us could lead to something more.

He asked me to move in with him on the same day he decided to return to Greymeadow instead of catching the plane to New York. Of course, I declined. Because it's crazy.

It still feels crazy, all of this. But the last three weeks have shown that living without each other would be even crazier. He flew me to New York to visit him for a weekend, and he came back to Greymeadow twice, despite his crazy work schedule and the risk of angering his father. As cautious as I want to be about this, it's hard not to get excited about the prospect of living with this man.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. For now, I need to focus on the big things ahead, like Christmas. I'm spending Christmas with him - and his family. This is such a huge step, but he suggested it as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"I know you're nervous," he says, when he sees me fiddling with my coat's zipper. "But don't be."

"If only it was that easy Mr. Conner."

A smile is forming at the corner of his mouth. "What are you so afraid of?"

"It's a big deal," I insist. "Christmas. Meeting the family. Do I really have to explain?"

He reaches for my hand and gently moves it aside, closing the zipper for me.

"Don't worry about them," he whispers, placing his hands on my shoulders.

"What if I don't fit in?"

"You won't," he replies, and my heart sinks for a split second. "But that's a good thing. I wouldn't want you to. I like you because you're different from them."

I smirk. "Weird little rodent friends and all?"

"Weird little rodent friends and all," he affirms. "And besides, if it sucks, we'll just go to Germany next year."

My eyes widen as I look up to him.

Next year. He's talking about it like it’s already a given.

A warm smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "I'd be curious to see those Christmas markets you've talked about."

"And drink some mulled wine?”  I ask, winking at him.

"I'd like that," he whispers. "Very much."

The kiss with which he seals his words tastes sweeter than any mulled wine ever could.