I sighed, heavy and loud, just to earn myself one more glare over that book. I couldn’t help it. I smirked when he looked away again.
The only light left on in the place was a tall lamp in the corner, and it cast a warm glow over half his face, leaving the rest in shadows. I wondered how he could read with the light in front of him instead of behind him, and again found myself wanting to point that out and make his life easier by advising he switch chairs, but I held back.
Partly because with the way he sat now, I could study his face.
I couldn’t explain the rollercoaster of emotions I’d felt since seeing him out on the road. In fact, I wasn’t sure I’d allowed myself to feel anything at all until that very moment that I watched him reading, his brows bent together, frown firmly in place like the book he was supposedly taking so much pleasure in was actually bringing him great pain.
It just felt… odd, to be there with him again. To be around a cabin full of things that smelled like him, and yet nothing like the way our home used to smell when we had one together. He was the same boy I’d loved for most of my life, and yet he wasn’t a boy at all any longer.
When I blinked, he was throwing his arm around me after a baseball game, sweaty and smelly, but I leaned into him, anyway. I blinked again, and I saw him laughing under a handful of rice as we walked out of the church by the lake. Another blink, and he was holding me as I cried after burning my first attempt at my mother’s chicken casserole in our new home.
Every blink, a new memory.
I was lost in those tiny specks of time until River glanced up at me, those piercing green eyes finding mine, and I tore my gaze away quickly, looking out the window again.
I wished I was home.
I was supposed to be with Mom and Dad and my little sister, Beth. I was supposed to be eating pumpkin pie and watching Christmas movies. I was supposed to be listening to Christmas music as we all sat around the tree, or drinking hot chocolate on the porch, or decorating cookies like Beth and I did as kids.
I was not supposed to be stuck in an old cabin with my ex.
I fought the urge to sigh again as I looked around at the utter lack of Christmas cheer. He did have a tree in the corner, between the fireplace and the window, but it looked like it had been placed by someone else. It was in a stand without a skirt to cover it, and it didn’t have a single decoration on it — no lights, no garland, no tinsel or ornaments. And aside from that tree? There was nothing. Not a single stocking or wreath or even a freaking candy cane. The entire place was void of anything that would hint that Christmas was the day after tomorrow.
And suddenly, I had an idea.
“I know what I can do,” I announced, popping off the couch. Moose lifted his head and one ear, watching me in a sleepy daze before his head rested on his paws again.
“Oh yippee, it’s a Christmas miracle,” River mumbled.
I rolled my eyes, walking over to stand proudly in front of him. “I’m going to decorate.”
It was his turn to sigh, and he held his place in his book with one thumb before looking up at me. “Do what?”
“I’m going to decorate. You need some holiday spirit in here.”
He blinked. “I don’t have space for holiday spirit.”
“Sure, you do. I mean, you’ve already got the biggest part,” I said, pointing at the bare tree. “It’s just sad that you have that whole tree and not a single thing on it.”
River glanced at the tree with a look I couldn’t decipher, and then his eyes found mine again.
“Come on,” I begged. “You’ve got to have a box of Christmas decorations.”
The heavy sigh he let loose next made me smile.
“You do, don’t you? Where is it?”
“The loft,” he said, nodding up toward the ceiling behind me. I followed his gaze and found a small, triangle loft that fit with the roof of the cabin, settled right above the bed. I wasn’t sure how I’d missed it before, and I found myself wondering why he hadn’t done something with it. It didn’t look to be that large, at least from this angle, but it would be enough to have a small sitting area, or perhaps another bed, or a reading nook.
As it was, it was dark and ominous and not inviting in the slightest.
I turned back to him, expectant.
“Look, you can do whatever you want to do, so long as you leave me alone.”
He went back to reading like I wasn’t even there, and as much as I didn’t love the idea of climbing up into that loft without any help, the alternative was to sit back down on the couch and stare out the window for eternity.
So, with a shrug and a fuck it, I got to work.
I knew River was watching me. It didn’t matter that his eyes never left the pages of his book as I climbed the creaky ladder up to that loft, he was watching me. He hadn’t flipped a page when I peeked down at him once I’d made it to the top, and his jaw was set like it was made of stone.
Stubborn ass.
I used the flashlight of my phone once I made it up into the loft, carefully sidestepping the massive cobwebs that cluttered the stacks of boxes until I found what I was looking for. There were two old and musty boxes falling apart and splitting at the edges, but they were both faintly labeled Christmas.
I smiled in victory.
At least, until I realized I had to figure out a way to get them down the ladder now.
I chewed my lip, lifting each box to test the weight before I looked down at the ladder, and then back at each box.
When I glanced down at River, he was looking at me, too.
“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” he grumbled, slamming his book down and using the table to hold his spot, just like it had been when I first walked in. Then, he stomped over to the bottom of the ladder and climbed a few rungs, holding his hands up toward me. “Hand them down.”
I wanted to do a little fist pump of victory again, but knew I was testing it already, so I just silently handed down each box with a smile that River didn’t return.
As soon as the boxes were on the ground, River was back at the table and his nose back in his book.
I lugged each box over closer to the tree, taking a moment to warm my hands by the fire. Moose was up and excited again, wagging his tail and sniffing the boxes. I watched him with a smile for a long moment before I opened the first one.
When I did, I lost the ability to breathe.
I’m not sure what I expected. Maybe it was to see some lights, some ornaments, some holiday trinkets from the dollar store in town. Maybe I thought I’d find some old Christmas décor that he’d rummaged from a yard sale. And maybe part of me was curious to see just what kind of décor he’d picked out, once he didn’t have me around.
But I never expected to open that box and see all of our old Christmas décor staring back at me.
I glanced at River once the box was open, but he was focused on the book, and he turned the page just as my eyes found the box again. My hands trembled with my next breath, and I reached inside, pulling out each item one by one.
Our lights, the white and blue ones I’d picked out to go with the theme I’d always wanted on my tree.
Our tree skirt, navy blue with silver and white trim and a beautiful, stitched snowy scene.
Our ornaments — the silver bell my parents had given us, the Santa-hat wearing Star Wars figurines I’d given him as a gift our second year together because I knew it was his favorite series of all time, and even the two little reindeer, one with a bow in her hair, holding each other, with our names and wedding date written in black ink below them.