CHAPTER SIXTEEN

GWEN POV

I looked into the big box. Inside, the Christmas ornaments were all wrapped up by themselves. This surprised me. It seemed like a very gentle, careful thing to do. My own dad just threw all our decorations into one box without wrapping anything.

I didn't feel the need to start decorating yet. So, I walked over to the large, soft couch and sat down. I just stared at the glowing red bits of fire. A strange, warm feeling came into my chest and slowly spread out.

It took me a moment to understand what this feeling was. It was a feeling of comfort and safety.

All the stress from my life started to melt away in the cozy warmth. The worries about money, my school grades, taking care of my father, and even the big worry about sleeping with my friend's dad—it all disappeared. I leaned into the feeling. I remembered April telling me I needed a break. I didn't think a break was possible, but here I was. I felt like I was a million miles away from my own world, a place where I didn't have to be in charge of anything. I decided I would enjoy this feeling, this moment. Who knew if I would ever get a chance to feel this way again?

Nolan came back from the kitchen. He was carrying a tray with two huge red mugs that had a white stripe on the top. A candy cane was sticking out of each one. He put the tray on the table.

"Hot chocolate with tiny marshmallows," he said, smiling. "Plus a little bit of peppermint alcohol and a candy cane to stir it with."

I couldn't help the happy little laugh that popped out of me. It was like a little squeal, which I never did. Squealing was for silly girls.

"This is wonderful," I said.

I took the mug he offered and sank back into the couch. I took a slow sip. The taste of chocolate and peppermint burst in my mouth. I closed my eyes to really enjoy it, the way I knew April would. That was what this time offered me, I realized. I could be like April and be open to enjoying everything. Well, maybe not everything. Nolan sat down at the other end of the couch. Even though it felt wrong, I couldn't stop myself from thinking he was really, really sexy as hell.

"Where do you want to start?" he asked. "We can do the tree first. Or we could decorate the rest of the room. I have some stockings somewhere that we can hang on the fireplace."

"Let's start with the tree."

But first, I took one more sip of the hot chocolate. It warmed me up from the inside, just as the fire and the nice room warmed me up from the outside. I put my mug down on the tray and walked with Nolan to the box to start decorating the Christmas tree.

Many of the decorations had clearly been made by April when she was small. They brought back sad and sweet memories of similar ornaments I had made at school or with my mother. Those ornaments are gone now. After my father married Mira, our Christmas trees looked like they came out of a fancy magazine, with matching colors and no space for sentimental, child-made things. It was sweet that Nolan still had April's little creations and was going to put them on the tree.

A part of me wanted to ask what it was like to be a single father and raise April, but I didn't. As much as I wanted to know everything about this man, talking about April would only remind us of what happened between us—and that we couldn't do it again. I didn't want that reminder right now, not in this moment away from my real life.

I was glad he didn't ask me anything more about my own Christmases or my friendship with April. I wondered if he was avoiding those topics on purpose? Could he possibly be feeling the same as me? I shook my head. It was unlikely he felt the attraction. It was more likely he was avoiding those subjects because he didn't want to be reminded of last night. He wanted to see me only as April's friend.

Every now and then, I would stop to take a sip of my hot cocoa, then continue decorating. When we finished the tree, we moved on to the rest of the room. There was a little manger scene that he let me set up on a small table near the window.

I finished the last of my hot cocoa just as we set up the very last decoration. I looked at what we had done, noticing how nice and warm the room felt. The nice feeling was quickly followed by a little bit of sadness because it probably meant the night was ending.

Nolan finished his hot cocoa, too. He lowered his mug and looked into it. Then he looked up at me. "I'm empty," he said. "How about you? Do you want another one?"

"Yes, please," I said a little too quickly. Like a small child on Christmas Eve. So much for trying to seem like a grown-up.

He took both cups and went back to the kitchen. I took another look around the room, studying our hard work. My eyes stopped on a book that was turned facing outward on a bookshelf. I picked it up. I realized it was a photo album. I knew I should put it back, but I opened it instead. It was a scrapbook of Christmases. I wondered if Nolan had made it. Or maybe April had. I decided it was probably April because she was always doing artistic things with photos, putting them in frames or hanging them up. Even on social media, her pictures always had little fancy touches she added herself.

I took the book and sat back on the couch. I flipped through it, seeing pictures of April as a tiny baby, then a toddler. By the time Nolan returned, the pictures showed April in elementary school. Each year was full of love and happiness and celebration. My heart squeezed tightly with a feeling of wanting that for myself.

"Where did you find that old thing?" he asked as he handed me a full mug of hot cocoa.

"I hope you don't mind. It was on the shelf right there."

"Not at all," he said. He sat down next to me, so close that our shoulders were touching. He looked into the book with me. "That was the year I taught April how to ski."

It took a minute for my feelings for him to stop making my brain fuzzy so I could actually look at the picture. Sure enough, April was there, bundled up in outdoor clothes, standing on two tiny skis with a huge, toothless grin.

"How old was she in this one?" I asked, pointing to the picture.

"Five or six, I think." His finger gently ran over the picture. "That was when I decided that I was going to fight her mother to get full custody of her."

April didn't really talk much about her mom. She only said she didn't see her very often anymore. After April moved in full-time with her father, visits with her mother were regular for a while, but then they happened less and less. But I didn't know why.

"I had to put up a huge fight," Nolan continued, quietly. "But when it came to April, there wasn't anything I wouldn't do."

I knew my own father loved me, and he would probably say the same thing. But I wasn't sure he had the strength left in him to fight for me like that. The thought made me sad.

Nolan turned his head and looked at me. "What's wrong?"

 My brow furrowed as I looked at him because I wasn't sure what he was talking about.