“I told you your sister is awesome.” I can already imagine us becoming close friends. She’s funny, kind, and sarcastic, all qualities I love. And Audrey is the sweetest baby. Courtney let me hold her for a while, and I’ll admit, my uterus ached for a moment at the thought of being a mother. Maybe someday.

“I think she’s pretty great.” Landon’s eyes don’t leave the road as we drive back to my house. He cocks his head to the side as we turn onto the highway. “Hey, I want to ask your opinion about something.”

“Sure. Shoot.” I’m never short on opinions. Ask anyone. When it comes to some things, like my friend Carly rushing into a wedding, I keep my yap shut. While I may be opinionated, I know when to stay quiet, too.

“Remember the day we went dress shopping for the wedding? We ran into my previous boss, Jeff.”

“Oh no. Are you breaking up with me for Jeff? Wait, you’re upset because you want to wear the dress I picked out.”

“Very funny. Besides, if I dated men, Jeff is far from my type. And that dress, well, no one can pull that dress off quite like you.”

He doesn’t flinch when I put my hand on his knee and slide it up his thigh. “If you’re lucky, you’ll be pulling it off me after the wedding.” I never officially asked him to the wedding as my date. At this point in our relationship—wow, yes, we’re in an actual relationship—I think it’s safe to assume the date is implied.

“I’ll take note of that. That’s not what I want to talk to you about, though.”

“I know. I’m sorry. What’s up?” I keep my hand on his thigh because I’ll take any reason to touch him.

“We met for lunch, an uncomfortable lunch, and he kind of sort of offered me my job back.”

“What do you mean kind of sort of?”

“He asked me if I wanted to come back to work as an independent contractor. Technically, I’d be working for myself, but for them.”

What does he need my opinion for on this? He’s been searching for a job with no luck. This way he has a steady paycheck. He’d need to cover his own insurance, but I’ve seen his financials. He can afford it. If I lost my job, I’d go crazy. I love working, as much as my job drives me crazy sometimes. “Is this something you want? Because that’s what it boils down to in the whole scheme of things.”

“That’s the problem. I’m not sure. Do I want a job?” His hands leave the steering wheel for a moment as he visually creates a story. “Of course. Every day I’m not working is a day I’m losing money. Do I want to go back and work for the company that threw me out on my ass after more than a decade of working for them? That’s the part I’m torn on.”

I can’t tell him what to do. This is a decision he has to make on his own. I’m not the one seeing those people every day. I’m not the one committing at least forty hours of my week to them. “Honestly, I think if you’re asking me, you probably already know what you want to do. The answer is inside of you, and you’re afraid to speak it.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

I can’t read his reaction. What’s he thinking? I don’t want to push him to tell me. He’ll tell me when he’s made a final decision.

We’re off the highway now and on my street. He parks on the side of the road. “Hey, I have something for you.”

“You do?” I squeeze my hand tighter on his thigh. “Maybe I have something for you, too, then.”

“While I love where this is going, that’s not what I mean. Come on.” He yanks his keys out of the ignition, and we both exit the car. I stand on the sidewalk as he opens his trunk. He reaches down and pulls out a box.

“What’s that?”

“Ornaments,” he says matter-of-factly as he shuts the trunk.

“Ornaments?” I try to take the box from him but he doesn’t let me. What am I supposed to do with those? The tree is still sitting in a box collecting dust.

He walks toward my front door. “I can help you put them up. We’ll turn on some Christmas music, pour a few glasses of wine, and reminisce about our family holidays as we decorate the tree.”

We reach the door. I have to get out of this. I can’t let him in. The wine part sounds appealing, but the rest of his scenario sends my stomach into knots. “Thanks for the offer, but it’s late. I can do it tomorrow.”

“It’s almost Christmas, Juliette. You can’t have a bare tree sitting in your house.”

I picture A Charlie Brown Christmas. I loved that movie when I was a kid, before Christmas became a haunted holiday. Charlie Brown’s tree is amazing compared to mine. Mine is still in the box. “I don’t.”

“Did you buy ornaments?”

“No.”

“Then your tree must be bare.”

“Technically it’s not.”

“What do you mean technically? Can I see it?”

Crap. I don’t think I can avoid this. If I push him away, he’ll think I’m hiding something, which I am. He wants me to trust him. Totally. I thought I did, but my fear of telling him my thoughts of this holiday prove that maybe I don’t. If he cares about me like he says he does, I can confide in him, and he won’t judge me. “Fine.”

I unlock the door, take a deep breath, and step over the threshold. He follows behind me, the box shoved against his side. “You haven’t moved the box out of the way. I can take that out if you need me to.” He carefully sets the box on the floor, and before I can stop him, he tries to lift the box the tree is in. “Wait. The tree is still in the box?” He stands up and rakes his fingers through his hair. “You haven’t even put it up yet?”

“Um. No,” I say in an ashamed whisper. I toss my keys on the small table next to my door. Now’s the time to tell him the truth. I can’t hold it in any longer.

“Jules, why haven’t you put the tree up? You told me you put it up. It’s been sitting here in a box the entire time! If you didn’t want it, you should have told me.”

“I hate Christmas.” I might as well have sucker punched him. He pulls his head back, crunching his face up. Yeah. That’s the kind of reaction I expected.

“You hate Christmas? How? You dress up as an elf for goodness sake!”

“Yeah. I know. I don’t do that for me though.”

“You don’t do it for extra money?”

“No. I donate it all.” While I may be a Grinch to some, I do have a heart. I don’t have to love the holiday to do something good.

“Still, you hate Christmas? Since when?”

“Since my parents announced their divorce while we opened our gifts Christmas morning.”

His face falls into a frown. “They what?”

“Yep. They couldn’t wait to destroy our lives, I guess, so they told us that morning.” I cross my arms over themselves and hug myself. I hate talking about it. I’m perfectly happy pretending the holiday doesn’t exist except for my job.

“I’m sorry, Juliette. That’s horrible.”

I shrug. Sure, it is, but that doesn’t change that it happened. “Yeah, so that’s why I don’t celebrate Christmas. I reluctantly participated until I moved out of my mom’s house. So it’s been twenty years since I put up decorations, sung a carol, or exchanged a gift.”

“Thank you,” he says as he takes my hands in his. “Thank you for confiding in me and telling me this.” He kisses me, and energy shoots throughout my body. “I only want you to trust me.”

And I do. Completely.

* * *

The next morning I awake in Landon’s arms. I don’t recall falling asleep there, but waking up this way is the best thing ever. I wish I could do it every day.

“Hey, you.” I rub my hand down his smooth chest. Nothing but muscle. I slide my hand onto his arm and rest it on his bicep. Landon is all man, and I can’t believe he’s in my bed. I’m a lucky woman.

“Hey yourself.” His hand meets mine, and he flexes his muscle and winks. “You slept like a log last night. Once I came back to bed, I don’t think you moved.”

“Came back to bed? Did you leave?” The last thing I remember is resting my head on his chest after what may have been a lovemaking session for the record books. I’ve never been so satisfied and relaxed.

He blows out a breath. “Don’t hate me okay?”

Hate him? Did he sneak out, go home to sleep, and come back? What is going on? “Okay.” I’m not sure I believe myself. Depending on what he says, I may be more than upset.

He scoots out of bed in his boxers. Only his boxers. I take a long, hard look at his abs, counting them. Yep, there’s a six-pack there. “Come with me.”

“Hold on.” I pull my robe off the floor. “I’m chilly.”

“I’ll make coffee after I show you what I did.” He wraps his arms around me and squeezes. He’s so warm.

My heart thumps against my chest. What could he have done?

“Close your eyes,” he says once we’re in the hallway.

“What?”

“Close your eyes. This is a surprise.”

I don’t think I ever told him how much I hate surprises. I don’t want to, but I close them.

“Cover them, too.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“Under normal circumstances, yes. But I don’t want you peeking.”

I frown but oblige. Landon takes me by the arm as he leads the way. I can tell by the path we’re in the living room.

“Open them.”

I hold them closed a moment longer, unsure I want to open them. Landon seems excited, so whatever it is, I’m sure he put a lot of thought into it.

The white in my living room almost blinds me as he’s transformed it into a winter wonderland. Paper snowflakes hang from the ceiling, garland wraps around my door, and the tree is up and fully decorated. Pine fills the air, and I only want to do one thing.

Throw up.

“Do you like it?” The exuberant smile on his face shines as bright as the lights on the tree. “You do. You can’t even say anything.”

I’m frozen, unable to process any thoughts or words. He did this. He took what I hate most and displayed it in my home. I haven’t hung a decoration my entire adult life, and now I have enough in this room to make up for all of it.

“After you dozed off, I watched you sleep for a while. You were so at peace. I imagined what you were dreaming about, and then I thought back to all our conversations. Your parents’ divorce—you think it took away the spirit of Christmas—but it didn’t, Juliette. It didn’t. It’s in there. You only need help drawing it out. You love it, don’t you?”

I take a deep breath and let out the air in a deep huff. “No. I don’t.” All this spirit is driving me insane. I reach up and rip a snowflake off the ceiling. Then another. And another. “I hate it. Take it all down.”

“What?”

“I told you I hate Christmas. Why would you do this?”

“I thought maybe if I did this for you, and we celebrated together—”

“That you could change my mind? No. It doesn’t work that way, Landon. I can’t believe you did this without consulting me first.” I rip the cord out of the wall turning out all the lights. “I want it all gone. All of it.”

I’m holding back the tears in my body, the ones that want to burst through accompanied by a scream. All these decorations do is remind me of a crappy time in my life. I never want to go back there.

“I’m making coffee. When I’m done, I want all of this off my ceiling and walls.”

“Fine.” He says, his eyes moist as he holds back tears as well. “And then I’ll be gone, too.”

See? Christmas is cursed.