I secured the stand, then stepped back to check. I was pleased to see that it wasn't leaning in either direction. "Looks good."
She stood next to me and considered it. "It needs lights."
I looked around the room. "You have any?"
She nodded. "I bought way too many boxes of lights. The space was smaller than I was thinking."
The lights in this room were strung across the ceiling in neat rows, a few inches apart from each other.
"Make yourself at home," she said, then disappeared down the hall.
There was a cushioned couch and a few small side tables arranged around the room, which were covered with more plants. There were hanging pots and a few lining the ground. Instead of feeling crowded, it was a relaxing space.
Aspen returned with a box, setting it on the ground. She dropped to her knees, opening the flaps of the box, and pulled out the strand of lights. "Found them."
I took the strands from her, untangling them. "These lights are blue."
"Clara had them, and I couldn't resist." She stood and took the other end of the strand. "I can't reach the top."
"I can do it." I wrapped the strand around the higher branches, then moved lower. Then Aspen took over.
She carefully nestled the strands in the branches and continued until she reached the bottom. "I just need to plug them in."
She found a plug and sighed when the lights came on. "They look better than I imagined. I have to take a picture and send it to Clara."
While she snapped a picture, I was busy watching her, the way the lights illuminated her face, making her look like some kind of fairy.
There was something about being with her like this. It didn't feel quite real, as if I was playacting someone else's life.
She glanced up at me. "What do you think?"
I swallowed hard. I hadn't looked at the lights, just her. "Beautiful."
"I think so too." She threw her arms around my neck and squeezed. "Thanks for convincing me to get a tree."
Her breasts were pressed against my chest, and it was hard to breathe. Before I could wrap my arms around her, she stepped back. "I should make hot chocolate."
She disappeared into her kitchen, and I sat down heavily on the couch. The room was a great addition to the apartment, an escape from reality. But it wasn't the deck that made it that way; it was how Aspen had decorated it, surrounding herself with plants.
I felt like we were in the forest. If I listened hard enough, I'd hear the chirping of the birds.
A few minutes later, she returned with two steaming mugs. "Isn't it great out here? I spend most of my time on this couch."
I took the mug from her as she sat next to me. "You've done a great job with this space."
She cradled her mug. "I can't believe that tomorrow's Thanksgiving. I've been so busy with work—tackling one event, then the next—that I haven't processed that it's the holiday season."
"It's your busy season."
She nodded. "The holidays are something I have to manage as part of my job. It's hard to let that aspect of my work go so that I can enjoy it."
"You'll have to take breaks from work." That was something I told her brothers but almost never practiced for myself. I didn't have a large family to spend time with. I moved around the periphery of the Sterlings, not quite a part of the festivities. It was easy for me to make an excuse and not be involved in everything.
Aspen sipped her hot chocolate. "What are your plans for tomorrow?"
I drew on the recent Thanksgivings and said, "I'll stop by your parents before dinner and, then after, take some leftovers to my mom."
She glanced at me. "I forgot that your mom still lives here. You almost never talk about her."