Page 15 of Big Mistletoe

I look around the room. There is garland and stockings on the mantel. I brought over some Christmas pillows for the couch, and a Christmas blanket is lying over the back. I tried to add little touches everywhere, and I’m proud of the change.

Nick nods slowly. “I like it.”

I smile. “Really?”

He looks at me. “Really.”

That means more to me than it probably should. I look around one more time. “I think we’re almost done.”

Nick glances around the room. “Almost?”

“One more thing.”

He laughs. “I can’t even imagine what you’re missing. Everything is so Christmassy and⁠—”

He goes on talking about the decorations, and I walk over to my purse. I’ve been carrying it around all day, but suddenly I’m not sure this is a good idea. Still, I reach inside and pull it out.

When I turn around, Nick is watching me. “What’s that?”

I walk toward him and hold it up between us. “Mistletoe.”

His eyes lift to it and then come back to mine.

He doesn’t say anything, but I can see him visibly tense.

My heart starts racing, and now I’m second-guessing myself. “You know, what’s Christmas without mistletoe?”

He shifts his stance, and he’s looking at me. His mouth opens, and I wait for him to say something, but then he closes it again.

Oh my God, I’ve completely read this all wrong. I drop my hand and lay the mistletoe on the table beside me. “Forget it.”

He frowns at the mistletoe and then at me. “Joy.”

I shake my head. “No, that was a bad idea.” I clap my hands together. “But I’m glad you like the tree. I think I’m going to go to bed. I have an early day and⁠—”

“Joy,” he says, cutting me off.

I shake my head and look away from him toward the tree. “Forget it. It’s no big deal. It was stupid.”

He comes up behind me, and his voice is right next to my ear. “Joy.”

I close my eyes. I’m embarrassed and frustrated. When he was taking me on dates, he was kissing me each night. I thought he liked me, but I’ve been staying here for days, and he hasn’t touched me one time. I mean, yeah, he takes care of me, feeds me, and is constantly checking on me, but there haven’t been any more kisses. Maybe he’s changed his mind.

Softly, I say, “Maybe I should go.”

His hands go to my shoulders. “No.”

I turn and look up at him, and he’s so close that we’re chest to chest. I lean my head back to look up at him. “Nick, I don’t understand.”

His hands go back to my shoulders. “What don’t you understand?”

I put a hand on his chest, right over his heart. “You.”

His forehead creases, and I wave my hand between us. “Before I moved in here, you couldn’t seem to stop touching me. I don’t know. I thought you wanted me.”

His voice is gruff. “I do want you.”

I shake my head, not understanding. “Then why haven’t you touched me?”