12 Days of Mistletoe

47. Elliot

FORTY-SEVEN

elliot

I tape the red envelope to Bonnie’s door, covering the B4, and knock—after which I immediately race around the corner, out of sight, and wait.

It doesn’t take long before a seven-a.m., ready-to-go Bonnie opens the door. I’m peeking from my hiding spot, watching her every reaction.

It’s Christmas morning—early, because my family does early on Christmas. Bonnie is expecting me. She’s ready for me. But maybe not for this.

She peers down the empty hall before turning back and seeing what I’ve left. Her head lifts and one of her brows quirks upward. “Elliot,” she whispers.

Pulling the note from her door, the woman does not disappoint—right there, in the hallway, she tears open the envelope and pulls out the holiday card I’ve left her.

Her lips lift at the corners as she looks over the cover—a gingerbread man with a bite taken out of his leg. The caption reads:

It’s a tough season for gingers.

It’s lame and silly and exactly something she would have sent to Gran. She shakes her head and a small giggle escapes her mouth.

She opens the card and reads?—

“Hello, Ms. Miller. I wanted to introduce myself. The new owner of the Cherry Plum apartments.” She looks up from the card and I jerk my head back out of sight. It only takes a second for her to go back to the card. I know the rest—I wrote it. But I love hearing her read it out loud.

“I wanted to make sure you were informed of all the rules. Just in case you didn’t know them.” A humorous groan escapes her lips.

“Number one—only the sweetest of dogs are allowed in the building.

Number two—no pretending to be smitten with your downstairs neighbor. All infatuated feelings must be legit.

Number three—you must spend all your New Year’s Eves with me.

That’s it. I hope you love living here.

Sincerely,

E.J. Eaton”

She peers up from the note she’s read aloud, and somewhere between rule number one and rule number two, I’ve come out from hiding. I’m leaning against the hallway wall, watching for her reaction.

“So?” I say. “Be my New Year’s Eve date?”

Her head tilts to the side and she wanders over to where I stand. Her fingers grapple at the ribbed collar at my neck. “It is rule number three.”

“And you should probably try to follow the rules,” I say, wrapping one arm around her back.

“It’s my New Year’s resolution.”

I smile and close that annoying gap between us. My lips brush hers and our breaths swirl together. And Bonnie Miller, brave and kind, beautiful and selfless, melts into me.

I wouldn’t mind staying in her hallway all Christmas day—or at least until Mrs. Bell decides to put a stop to our PDA, but after only a minute, Bonnie pulls back. Her eyes meet mine and she pecks my mouth once more.

“Ready to go?” she says.

I pull in a breath. “Are you ready for Christmas with the Eatons?” I ask—because I’d be happy to stay here all day if she’d rather.

“Are you ready to tell your family the truth?” she says.

“It’s settled, let’s spend Christmas at your place.”

She giggles, then tugs on my collar, pulling me back in for one more kiss.