Hell on Heels(49)

“You’re still here?” I groaned, using my hands to stand up, but soaking them in the process.

He laughed at my predicament. “I was about to leave until I saw you.”

“Lucky me.” I was being prickly.

Walking off the curb, he looked into my SUV and wrapped his hands around the trunk. He dragged it like it weighed nothing and set it down between us.

“You want some help?” he asked.

“I’m dating,” I blurted.

Apparently, I did a lot of that today where Dean was concerned.

“Okay.” He looked over the tree at me, clearly bemused.

“I just wanted you to know I’m dating,” I clarified, wiping my wet hands on my jeans.

“You’re dating,” he repeated.

“I’m dating.” I nodded. “You’re offering to help me with my tree, so I just thought you should know I’m dating.”

“Well, all right then.” He shook his head, still laughing. “You’re dating.”

Dean didn’t wait for me to say anything else. Instead, he heaved the tree into the air and started walking towards the entrance to my building.

I scrambled, grabbing the bags of decorations and my purse before chasing after him. He didn’t have to wait though; he punched in his own obviously temporary access code for the building and motioned for me to open the door.

“Oh, right,” I mumbled lamely, and held it open as he, and my ugly tree, went inside.

It was hard not to think of all the great Christmas’ we’d had together before things got bad. Watching him all grown up and dragging that god-awful tree into the elevator, I remembered a time when I thought this was how I’d spend every Christmas for the rest of my life.

With him, and our children, and Henry.

Time could do a lot of damage to a dream.

The three of us, me, Dean, and my Charlie Brown tree, shoved into the elevator as the doors closed.

“This is kind of an ugly tree.” He chuckled, and I glared through the branches at him.

“It’s a Charlie Brown tree,” I defended the greenery.

He looked down at the tree and then back at me. “Isn’t it a bit big to be a Charlie Brown tree?”

“Shut up,” I said, as I stepped out onto my floor.

Running ahead of him, I unlocked the door and held it open while he brought the tree inside.

“Where do you want it?” Dean asked.

I looked around the room and pointed between two of the windows. “Over there.”

He laid my tree on the ground and stood over it, assessing. “You got a tree stand in one of those bags?”

Dropping the bags on the ground, I rummaged through them and pulled out the green stand I’d purchased. “Here.” I held it out to him.

Kneeling down, I watched as he began expertly affixing it to the bottom of the tree.

“Where’s Alycia today?” I blurted.

I was going to have to work on that.

The side of his profile tipped up and I could tell he was smiling. “She’s with her grandparents. Brooke’s parents,” he clarified, though he knew he didn’t have too. I knew Dean had no family.

“That’s nice that they help out,” I said, as I watched him.

He finished attaching the stand. “Yeah. They’re good people. Lucky to have ‘em.”

“Mmm,” I mumbled.

“Okay.” He looked at me. “I’m going to lift the tree up. I need you to stand over there and tell me if it’s straight.”

I nodded and moved to where he pointed.

Dean lifted the tree up, and I yelled over to him, “Looks straight to me.”

He let go, and to no one’s surprise, the tree remained upright.

“You’re all set, then.” He rounded the tree and smiled at me.

Suddenly, I felt awkward. I was reminded of our moment in the stairwell this morning and the fact he was now in my apartment.

“Uh. Thanks,” I mumbled.

He shoved his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I better get going. Alycia’s waitin’ on me.”

I waited until he started moving towards the door and followed a few paces behind him.

Walking through the open door, he stopped and looked at me.

I mean really looked at me, like he was studying me.

“You doin’ okay with the holidays and all?” He remembered about Henry.

That was nice.

I shrugged.

“Tell your parents I said hi?”

This caught me off guard. It seemed like such a casual thing to say.

“Sure,” I told him.

Reaching out a hand, he grabbed the front of my parka and gently pulled me to him.

“Merry Christmas, Charlie,” he whispered.

His lips brushed mine, slow and nostalgic.

Then he let me go and walked backwards down the hallway with a smile on his face.

For the first time, I watched him go. When he disappeared into the stairwell, I went back inside.

Leighton arrived a few hours later with all her luggage direct from the airport and Greek takeout. We completed a marathon that consisted of the first three Saw movies and decorated our Charlie Brown tree, which Leighton complained was not ugly enough.

I went to sleep that night feeling a little more like me than I had in a long time.