could breathe, it just let out the biggest sigh of relief.
“Thanks,” I say through a laugh.
“Next time text.” She waves me inside, and I squeeze through the door, letting my sleeping bag fall to the worn carpet. “I’m a pro at emptying trunks in one trip.”
If I had her number, I probably would have. Or not. I don’t know her that well.
She sets the presents under the purple tree. Oh good, he did decorate it more. A popcorn string starts from the top and ends just before it hits the bottom. A couple of ornaments hang in random places, with no rhyme or reason. It looks like they tried to do tinsel, but gave up with meticulous placement and ended up chucking the rest in massive, random chunks.
And someone went candy cane crazy. Almost every branch hosts one, and there are so many that the bottom of the tree looks like it has a candy cane fringe skirt on. A single strand of colored lights is completely burned out, so only the top half of the tree is lit.
I know it should bug me—the haphazard decorations and the imperfections, but a smile curls on my lips as I take it in. There is more love put into this tree than I’ve seen in any I grew up with.
“Pete should be back any minute.” Maddie pulls my attention away from the crooked star on the top branch. “Let me take you to his room.”
I jerk back. “Where?”
She laughs. “Don’t worry. He cleaned it.” Without further explanation, she scoops up my sleeping bag and eases my overnight duffel off my shoulder. She leads me past a small kitchen, an open closet in the hallway that is home to their washer and dryer, a bathroom, and then turns left into an open bedroom door.
Pete’s bed is pushed against the far wall and takes up about three-fourths of the floor space, and it’s only a full. I don’t see a dresser, but I eye the closet door. There couldn’t be enough room for a dresser in there, could there? Is that something people do when they don’t have much room to work with?
His nightstand has a single lamp and charging cord, and the top drawer has a tiny slip of paper or something poking from the top, almost like he swiped everything from the top into the drawer and shoved it shut.
And the smell… If the honey ham scent wasn’t so strong, I think I would’ve been knocked over by the wave of apple cinnamon Febreze. I know the scent well—it’s one of my favorite Christmas air fresheners.
He used it very generously.
I stifle a grin at how much effort he put into impressing me with his living space while Maddie sets my bag down next to Pete’s nearly empty laundry basket in the corner. “Geez, Pete… spray enough air freshener in here?”
I let my laughter out. At least I’m not the only one thinking it. I toss my pillow, letting it flump on top of my stuff. I’m not exactly sure where I’ll be sleeping, so I won’t set up just yet. There’s no way I’ll be sleeping in here, right? With him? My stomach knots into a ball, and I try to untangle it with a hard swallow.
“Um… I brought some things for cookies.” I pat my grocery bag like an idiot. Like she doesn’t know I have food in there.
“Sweet.” She moves toward the door, but the hallway is so narrow that I end up leading her to the kitchen.
Maddie takes my bag of groceries and starts putting them away, navigating the small space like a professional cook. She knocks drawers and cupboards shut with her hip, spinning in a kick to the fridge, all while bopping to a song she must have in her head. She’s oddly athletic for such a small frame. Her Buddy the Elf shirt pops up enough to showcase a set of abs that I could only pay a trainer for.
Her mood is light and easy, not unlike when she came to help out with Mona Lisa. I wonder if this is just who she is, and that is pretty freaking awesome if that’s true. No wonder Pete gets along with her.
“You don’t mind that I’m here, right?” My eyes go to the counter and I run my hand across the smooth top. It’s not granite or quartz, but it’s still sturdy. Homey.
“Gosh, no,” she says with a wave. “Pete’s gonna be so much easier to handle