it isn’t for girls?” She slips her leggings on and then pushes her hand through her hair.
“Okay, I’m an idiot.” I pull her into my lap and nuzzle her neck. “Say it again.”
“You’re an idiot.”
I smile against her skin. “Not that part. The other part.”
“No. What if you don’t say it back?”
I pull back and rub my thumb over the apple of her cheek as I gaze into her gorgeous brown eyes. “I love you, Natasha. More than I ever knew it was possible to love another human being. You make every day better just by being in it.”
“I mean, that’s a little overboard.”
“It’s all true.”
She tips her forehead against mine. “Guess what?”
“What?”
“I love you, too.”
Chapter 17
~Natasha~
“Is this for my dollhouse?” Kelsey asks, holding up the tiny furniture we got her.
“No, it’s for me to sleep in,” Sam says, making her laugh.
“You’re too big.”
“Well, dang it. I guess it is for your new dollhouse.”
“Can I open this one?” Kevin asks, holding a wrapped box. I don’t recognize that one. Sam went out and bought the kids a few things without me, which didn’t bother me at all.
He’s their uncle.
But when Kevin rips the paper, and I see what it is, I see red.
“Video games!” Kevin jumps up and dances a jig.
“You got him a Nintendo?” I ask Sam.
“Sure did.” He beams at the little boy with pride. “We’ll hook it up later and play some Mario Kart.”
Kelsey is completely absorbed in her dollhouse, and Kevin is busy looking at the Nintendo box, so I grab Sam’s hand and lead him into the kitchen.
“I thought we talked about this.”
“About what?”
I take a deep breath and count to three. “We said no video games for Christmas.”
“No, you said no PlayStation for Christmas,” he reminds me and reaches for a cookie, taking a bite. “That’s not a PlayStation.”
“It’s a video game console.”
“Yes.”
Oh my God, I’m going to shove that cookie up his nose.
“Sam, I told you that I didn’t want him to have that. He’s too young.”
“It’s something he and I can do together.”
I lean on the counter and stare at him.
“And it’s not a PlayStation,” he continues. “This console has way more games that are age-appropriate for him.”
“Great. Okay, whatever.”
I move to walk away, but he catches my hand.
“Don’t be mad.”
Don’t be mad? You’ve got to be kidding me!
“You don’t get to just decide that you don’t care what I think, and do the exact opposite anyway, Sam. Is this going to be the way it is over the next dozen or so years? Because that’s crap. We’re supposed to make decisions together.”
“That’s not what this was. You decided and expected me to just fall in line, Tash. I didn’t agree.”
“You didn’t tell me that at the time. There was no further discussion. You just did what you wanted to anyway.”
His jaw tightens. “I’m a grown man. I don’t need to have discussions with you over every little thing.”
“And now we’re done here because it’s Christmas and I don’t want to kill you on a sacred holiday.”
I walk away and do my best not to cry.
Not tears of sadness. Tears of rage.
What a jerk.
I start throwing loose paper into a garbage sack and come across one last box under the tree.
For me.
I frown and open the package, and then feel tears fill my eyes for a totally different reason.
It’s a day at the spa—massage, hair, and nails.
And it’s signed by all three of them.
“Damn it,” I mutter and then feel Sam walk up behind me. His hands rest on my shoulders. “I wanted to be mad at you.”
“You still can be.”
“No, I can’t. Because you got me a whole day of pampering. I haven’t had my hair or nails done since…before.”
“I know.”
“And I like to do those things. I’ve missed it. I used to get it all done at least twice a month. But there hasn’t been time, and I look awful.”
“Okay, now you’re taking it too far.” He turns me around and wraps his arms around me in a tight hug. “You always look great.”
“I don’t feel like it.”
“You need to be pampered for a day. And you should really start doing those things for yourself again, Tash. It’ll make you feel more like yourself.”
“Yeah. It’s just hard to go into the salon.”
“It isn’t going anywhere,” he reminds me. “Monica wouldn’t want you to avoid it.”
“If I died, I’d want her to avoid it.” I sniffle, and he laughs.
“No, you wouldn’t.”
“You’re right.” I take a deep breath. “Thank you for this.