"Very specific."
"I'll know it when I see it."
We wander through the rows, examining trees. The first one's too short. The second's too sparse. The third has a weird bald spot on one side that Nora finds hilarious.
"It's got character," she says, trying not to laugh.
"It's got a bald spot the size of my head."
"Like I said, character."
We keep looking, and I'm hyperaware of how domestic this is. A young couple shopping for their first Christmas tree with their baby, debating the merits of different pines versus firs, laughing at the truly terrible specimens.
Except we're not a couple. We're two people who live together, raising a kid together, and are falling for each other, but can't do anything about it because life is complicated.
"What about this one?" Nora stops in front of a full, beautiful Douglas fir that's probably seven feet tall.
"That's perfect." I move closer, examining it from all angles. "Height looks right. Full all around. Good color."
"How do you know if it's the right height?"
"I have a scientific method." I gesture for her to come closer. "Stand here."
She does, and I step in close, hands on her waist, and lift her straight up off the ground. The moment my hands close around her, my heart slams hard against my ribs once, like it's reminding me it's there. Her breath catches audibly. One hand braces Harper's head against her chest, the other lands on my shoulder for balance, and we end up face to face, way too close, staring at each other while I hold them both in the middle of a Christmas tree lot.
She's warm under my hands, her waist fitting into my grip like it was meant to be there, and I'm very aware that I am holding two of my favourite people in the world, and my heart hasn't slowed down even slightly.
"Is it—" Her voice comes out breathless. "Is it the right height?"
I couldn't say. I'm too focused on the way she feels in my hands and the way her hazel eyes are wide and dark and so close I could count every fleck of green.
"Tyler." My name on her lips is basically a prayer.
"Right. Height." I force myself to focus, comparing where herhead is to where the top of the tree would be against my ceiling. "Perfect. This is the one."
I set her down slowly, my hands staying on her waist longer than they need to. She doesn't step back immediately, and neither do I, and we're standing here in front of a Christmas tree having a moment while Harper dozes in her carrier, completely oblivious.
"We should—" Nora starts.
"Yeah."
We get the tree loaded onto the roof of my car, and the guy helping us definitely notices how I can't stop looking at Nora. He grins at me when she's not looking, giving me a knowing nod.
At home, I haul the tree inside while Nora gets Harper settled. By the time I've got it in the stand and positioned in the corner of the living room, Nora's got Christmas music playing softly from her phone.
"We need decorations," she says.
"I may have already bought some."
"When?"
"Last week. They're in the hall closet."
Her laugh is bright and genuine; I want to record it and keep it forever. "You planned this whole thing."
"Maybe."
We spend the afternoon decorating. Lights first, which takes forever because I'm apparently terrible at wrapping them evenly. Then, the garland, which Nora insists has to be artfully draped rather than just thrown on. Then ornaments—a mix of classic red and gold balls I bought, plus a few special ones.