* * *
Half an hour later, we pulled into the tree lot. A woman in a heavy winter coat and a Santa hat approached the car and gave us a site map and a saw. The saw smelled like pine.
“You smell that?” I smiled. He rolled up the window as we crept down the snowy road toward the different plots.
He smiled back. “I do.”
I looked at the map. “So what kind of tree do you want?”
“Balsam fir,” he said without skipping a beat.
“Right answer.” I nodded to a lot on the left. “Those are balsams.”
He pulled into a parking space and we got out. I took Grace from her car seat and did a quick diaper change. Then I bundled her up, and we set out between the rows of pines.
It was a beautiful day. Sunny and around thirty degrees—a Minnesota heat wave for December. We crunched through the snow, looking at the selection.
“Isn’t this better than being at work?” I asked, closing my eyes and breathing in the crisp air.
“I have to admit this does beat depositions,” he said, holding the saw.
“So you’re a partner, right?” I asked, looking over at him. “What does that mean exactly? You’re the boss?”
“I am one of the bosses, yes.”
“But not the big boss?”
“The big boss is Marcus. He’s the owner and founder of the firm.”
“And what’s he like?”
He bobbed his head. “Serious. Shrewd.”
“So how does that work exactly? He’s the owner and you’re what? Like if this was a retail setting, what position would you have?”
He stopped to look a tree up and down. “Well, I guess if this was retail, I’d be the store manager. Marcus and I agree on what cases we take and who we hire. I consult with him if I need to, but he defers to my judgment for most things.”
“And how many lawyers are there?”
“We have nine right now. Plus three paralegals and a couple of administrative assistants.”
A soft wind blew and I tucked Grace’s blanket around her face, kissing her warm forehead. “So do you get all the best clients?”
We kept walking. “Technically clients belong to the firm. Any of us can show up to represent them. But I usually head up the bigger cases.”
“Ahhh. I see. And do you like Marcus?”
“I respect Marcus. Liking him isn’t really necessary.”
I stopped at a large tree. “What about this one?” I nodded to it.
Adrian examined it. “For me or you?”
“You. I’ll need something a little smaller. I don’t have as much room as you do.”
He nodded. “This works for me.”
He got down in the snow and tucked under the boughs of the tree and started to saw.
“So what’s Annabel like?” he asked, the tree shaking back and forth.
“Angry.”
He stopped sawing and poked his head out to look at me. “Angry?”
“Angry. Like a pissed-off, grounded, petulant high schooler.”
“Why?” He went back under.
I scoffed. “Why not?”
Annabel was mad at the world. Mad that Mel died. Mad that her mom left. Mad that a condom broke and she got pregnant by some rando in Punta Cana on her grad trip—that I paid for, by the way. I thought gifting her with my love of travel would help her love her life a little more.
That backfired.
At least she’d never have to worry about dying of ALS. She and Brent had a different mom from Melanie and me—which meant Grace was safe too. That alone should be enough to be thankful for. But Annabel didn’t really do gratitude.
The tree shook one more time and fell sideways with a small crack.
Adrian got up and brushed snow off his jacket and I grinned at him. “You did it. You’ve come full circle.”
He looked down at it with a smile. “Let’s go get yours.”
* * *
Three hours later we were back at his apartment. Both trees were erected in their respective living rooms. I’d decorate mine later. His was the one that was critical.
The fireplace was on, Christmas music was playing, his tree was decorated, and we were eating soup out of bread bowls on his sofa. He’d made hot toddys, and I had his new throw blanket on my lap with Harry Puppins snuggled up next to me. He growled in his sleep.
I loved that insane little dog. He was like some curmudgeonly old man, chasing people off his lawn. When we got back with the tree, Harry attacked Adrian’s pant leg. Adrian was trying to put the tree into the stand so his hands were busy and he couldn’t get Harry off him. I was laughing so hard I couldn’t even help. I almost peed my pants.
“Don’t you wish you’d gotten two blankets now?” I asked, nudging Adrian’s thigh with my knee. “I’m so comfortable and you’re over there all cold and sticking to the leather.”
He laughed, scraping his spoon down the side of his bread bowl. “I run hot.”
I smiled, gazing around his apartment. It was actually homey now. “Tell me you don’t feel better,” I said, looking back at him.
He smiled. “I do feel better. You were right.”
I put my mug on the floor. “You know, I think it was fate that you met me. You definitely needed me in your life.”
He slid his bread bowl onto the coffee table. “While I’m very glad that I met you, I don’t believe in fate.”
I shook my head at him. “How can you not believe in fate?”
“I don’t think things are preordained or written in the stars. I believe we make our own destiny.”
“Ah, spoken like a true control freak.” I put out my palm. “Give me your hand.”
He eyed me suspiciously.
“Give it to me,” I said, waiting.
He smiled and put it out in front of him. The second I picked it up, warm electricity shot through me.
God, I bet this man knew what to do with his hands…
Adrian didn’t really strike me as the kind of person to half-ass sex. He didn’t fail. At anything. I bet he could teach a master class in giving women orgasms.
I liked men with a little experience—since I didn’t have time for training.
I cleared my throat. “I’m going to read your palm,” I said, flipping his hand over.
He looked amused. “Where’d you learn to do that?”
“A fortune teller in a little village in Spain.”
“No wonder Becky likes you.”
I ran a finger along his love line and smiled. “Why?”
“She’s into astrology,” he said, leaning into me to watch what I was doing. His face was a little close to mine. It made my heart flutter. “She’s always reading me my horoscope,” he said.
“And you don’t ever feel like there’s truth to it?” I asked, studying the creases in his palm.
“Nope. So what’s my palm telling you?”
I smiled a little. “You see this?” I dragged a line at the base of his fingers. “This is your love line. You’ve got a break in your heart line, right here. That means something traumatic happened to you. That’s probably the thing with your dad leaving. But look. Look how long and steady it is after that. The whole rest of your life is one solid, happy line.”