Christmas came quickly and with it some things Rosie was unfamiliar with.

First was the day Max took her out to get a real Christmas tree. Like, real life, alive, out of the ground, chop it down Christmas tree. That had been just about the coolest thing she’d ever seen. Max out there, chopping down a tree she picked.

Then there had been the buying of the gifts. It had taken her what seemed like forever to find the right things for everyone. Having never bought gifts before, that came as a surprise. She’d thought she’d just walk in somewhere and pick something up. It wasn’t nearly that simple.

There was Christmas Eve dinner at the Murphy’s house. It had gone infinitely better than Thanksgiving and was straight out of a movie. It had eggnog in a punchbowl, a family decorating a tree together and a roaring fire. If anyone noticed that her parents were absent for another holiday, they didn’t mention it.

One Christmas was all she’d had with the Hardy’s. They’d played up the whole Santa thing even though her mom had blown that for her when she was a little girl. She hadn’t wanted to ruin it for them so she’d played along.

At night, after she and Max both finished working, they’d meet back at his house, her camper all but forgotten. They ate dinner and laughed, talking about their day. From there, they turned off the lights and cuddled on the couch, watching the Christmas tree.

It felt like magic.

It felt like home.

There were some things she was completely familiar with though, like the resurgence of her dreams. Since Helene’s last visit and Max’s effort to be less protective, Rosie relived the same dream nearly every night.

She was cooking dinner, a big roast with potatoes and carrots. There was homemade bread and cookies that she took time to dust with powered sugar. She hummed as she cooked and set the table, no fear or anxiety. She dreamed of a normal life, but one that wasn’t her own. The clothes she wore were long out of style and the song she hummed now considered an old time classic.

After a time, Max would come in laughing, carrying a basket full of flowers.

“Fresh for you, love,” he’d say with a smile. Then he’d lean in and kiss her cheek and wink. “But, they’re not from me.”

She’d feign surprise.

“Not from you? Do I have a secret admirer?” Her smile would be sly and Rosie felt joy coursing through her. No matter how many times they played the scene, it made her heart swell.

“Not so secret,” Max would say.

Rosie would lean around him to catch sight of a little blonde haired boy hiding behind his father.

Max was not this boy’s father and Rosie was not his mother. They were stand-ins for the people that really lived the scene but her mind kept putting her and Max in that kitchen.

“Are these from you?” She’d ask the boy.

He’d shyly smile up at her.

“Well, I have something for you too.” Rosie would hand him a cookie and he’d snatch it quickly.

“You’ll spoil his dinner.”

“Sometimes a mother needs to spoil her son.”

“How about her husband?” He’d lean in and kiss her cheek, then whisper in her ear. “Can she spoil him?”

A rattling growl then fills the air and they all turn to look. The little boy smiles and lights up as does Max. Rosie is more reserved but greets the rabid black rabid dog with a cordial hello. It growls and snaps as it stalks toward them. Max and the boy welcome it with open arms but it only has eyes for her. It pushes her further into the kitchen, her backwards steps pressing her against the counter. The dog bend its front legs and she knows it’s going to pounce.

She looks at Max again but he smiles at the dog, almost indulgently.

She looks back at the dog and it leaps, teeth bared, ready for the kill.

* * *

New Year’s came out of nowhere and with it, the business association dinner.

It was just a dinner. That’s what she kept telling herself, but her nerves wouldn’t listen.

She checked herself in the mirror again. Her hair was up in a loose knot, her makeup heavier than normal but not overly done. Wendy had tried to persuade her to go with a heavy smoky eye but she’d passed, opting for her normal look just with a touch more.

Her lips were the more. She’d chosen a deep red and with her white hair and dress, it was the only pop of color she had on.

Other than her eyes.

Her dress was still as gorgeous as she remembered, long and white, pressed to perfection. She didn’t feel one sliver of doubt and for her, that was saying something.

The flash of headlights splashed across her tiny living room. Rosie took a deep breath and waited for him to knock.

“Be out in a second,” she yelled when he finally got the door. She smiled to herself. He didn’t need to know she’d been ready for twenty minutes.

Max waited about ten seconds before he got impatient. “You’re killing me here. You come out or I’m coming in.”

“Okay, okay,” she laughed as she made it to the door.

When it swung open her smile died on her face. For some reason, she’d thought this was going to be her big reveal. She hadn’t expected him to completely stun her.

He was spectacular. There was no other way to say it. He looked beyond gorgeous in his fitted tuxedo, black on black. She literally had no words.

He seemed to be in the same position as his face turned stony and he inspected her head to toe. Then he did it again.

“I…” He stuttered.

She shook her head, feeling blindsided. “You’re...”

“No, you.” He leaned in and pressed his lips hard against hers.

That brought a sense of normalcy and when they broke apart she laughed at the lipstick on his mouth.

“You have lipstick on your mouth, now.”

“Who cares,” he murmured and kissed her again, his hands squeezing her hips. It was another minute before he pulled away.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

“You look great.”

They said at the same time.

He rested his forehead to hers as she wiped lipstick from his mouth.

“Is there any way you could just wear that every day?” She asked jokingly.

He leaned back. “This old thing?”

He was striking, his dark brown hair slicked to the side, his face clean shaven. She would miss his messy hair and five o’clock shadow if he dressed up every day.

She shook her head. “I like you no matter what you’re wearing.”

He kissed her again, getting more lipstick on his mouth.

“You love me,” he scoffed as though it were nothing. “And I’ll wear whatever you want me to wear.” He shrugged and tacked on with a wink, “Or not wear.”

Rosie wiped the red off his lips again. “You better stop doing that. I won’t have any lipstick left.”

“I can’t. It’s like a magnet.” He let her got. “Let’s get this all locked up so we can get going. If we don’t leave now I can’t be held responsible for what I might do.”

* * *

When they got to the dinner Max drove around front for valet parking.

The young man, he must have been a couple years younger than she was, stuttered as he helped her out of the truck. “W-w-w-elcome, m-m-miss.”

“Thank you.” She smiled at him.

Max came around the front of the car and held out his arm. When she took it, he leaned down and whispered in her ear. “I think you just made his life.”

She turned to see what Max was talking about and caught the young man looking at her butt.

“Oh my God.” She whipped her head back around and stared straight ahead as they walked away.

Max just laughed.

* * *

Max knew everyone in the room and from the second they arrived he was shaking hands and making introductions. He introduced Rosie to the board of the business association, which she seemed to enjoy. She hadn’t lost the smile from her face since they entered the room.

He tried to see it through her eyes and imagined it would all be pretty dazzling. The big, golden ballroom with enormous, vintage crystal chandeliers, filled with people dressed in fancy clothes. There was a string quartet and waiters walking around with drinks and food. Max could take or leave any of this stuff. Sure, the honor was flattering and but accolades weren’t why he did what he did. So this? This big dinner? He could do without it.

The look on Rosie’s face? That, he’d remember forever. She was enjoying herself. No bloody noses, no overwhelming spirits – just them. Just tonight.

He stood at the bar waiting for Rosie’s soda and watched her talking with Wendy and his mother. Her white dress was like nothing anyone else was wearing tonight. She was stunning.

“Hey, Max.”

When he turned he found Caroline Humphreys standing there with a smile on her face. She was a nice girl. They’d dated briefly a few years ago but it ended when she switched to a medical school in Atlanta and he’d started his business.

“Hey.” He smiled warmly at her and gave her a short hug. “How are you?”

“I’m good.”

She was on the taller side and now that he noticed, looked a lot like his sister with her brown hair and brown eyes.

“Still in Atlanta?”

She nodded. “I am. And I guess I don’t need to ask about that farm you wanted to start.”

“Ginger ale sir,” the bartender cut in.

“Thanks,” he said offhand.

“Ooh, really hitting the hard stuff tonight huh?” Caroline joked.

He held out his elbow to her, being a gentleman, which she took. “It’s for my girlfriend, actually.” When her step faltered, he pulled her along. “Come meet her.”

He and Caroline joined Rosie and Wendy, his mother having moved on.

“Caroline, this is Rosie, my girlfriend. Rosie, this is Caroline.”

They shook hands, Rosie carefully inspecting Caroline’s face. He wondered if she got some kind of read off of her or if his guard was up.

“Caroline’s parent’s run the marina,” Wendy told Rosie.

“Are they here, too?” Rosie asked.

Caroline laughed. “Oh, they wouldn’t miss it. They invited me and I came back from Atlanta for it. It’s like, their favorite night of the year.”

“Really?” Rosie asked.

Caroline shrugged. “They love this town. It’s a pride thing, I guess.”

“That’s nice.” Rosie sounded like she genuinely meant it.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to be rude. But your eyes.” Caroline leaned closer. “Is that natural?”

Max felt Rosie lean away from Caroline and knew she was uncomfortable.

“Yes,” Max answered.

“It’s very rare,” Caroline said conversationally after giving Rosie her space. “Segmental heterochromia.”

She then went on to catalogue a number of syndromes the condition was related to.

But not necessarily. She kept saying the last part.

By the time Caroline left, Rosie looked at them both. “Am I dying?”

Wendy laughed. “Yeah, I’m not sure where that was going.”

“Seriously,” Rosie joked. “I think she has me convinced.”

When they sat down for dinner and the awards, he was sure Rosie had met everyone in the room. Even if it was someone he wasn’t friendly with, they all seemed to want to talk to him tonight. He wondered how much of it had to do with the award and how much of it had to do with having Rosie on his arm.