“That’s so sweet.” I wince at my not-exactly-enthusiastic reply. “It’s good to be home. What’s up?”
“I wondered if you’ve got your Christmas tree yet?”
“Christmas tree?”
I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. Kassim’s eager eyes flash up to meet mine. We’d usually have our tree up by now, even though Thanksgiving was only days ago.
“My family owns a tree farm,” Mark says. “That lot off the square that sells trees all month? That’s my dad’s.”
“Oh, those are the best trees in Skyland.”
“That’s what the sign says,” he chuckles. “I just grabbed a great one from the lot. I could bring it by if you wanna take a look.”
Kassim’s stare has been fixed on me since “tree.” He and Deja love Christmas, and Ididhave getting the tree on my list for this week.
“If you don’t like it,” Mark continues, “I’ll just take it to my sister. She’s a single mom of four and works full time. Knowing her, she hasn’t thought of a tree yet.”
“Why not just take it to her then?” I ask, keeping my tone light.
“Because I’d like to see you, and this seemed as good an excuse as any.”
It’s just a tree, but when he puts it like that…
“Oh…okay.” I agree after a beat of silence. “Why not?”
“And maybe we could grab dinner after the tree’s up? Or a drink?”
“Um…it’s a school night and my kids—”
“Right. Sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I can just drop off the tree then.”
The manisbringing me a tree.
“I ordered takeout,” I force myself to offer. “You’re welcome to stay for dinner.”
“You sure?” he asks, but I hear hisyespoised and waiting.
“Of course. I hope you like Indian.”
“I hope you like this tree.”
Thirty minutes later, Mark stands on my front porch with one of the biggest Christmas trees I’ve ever seen.
“You weren’t kidding.” I laugh, my gaze climbing the branches to the top. “It’s massive and beautiful.”
“Is this our tree?” Kassim asks, poking his head from behind me to the porch. “Whoa!”
“If you want it.” Mark raises querying brows at me.
“Yes!” Kassim shouts before I can confirm.
“Of course, we want it.” I step back so Mark can come in and maneuver the tree with him.
I’d already set the base up in the family room in front of the window we use each Christmas. Mark makes quick work of getting the tree in the stand and upright, its branches brushing the ceiling.
“Day!” Kassim bellows from the base of the stairs. “Come see our tree!”
At the top of the landing, the door to Deja’s room opens and she sticks her head out. Half her hair is loose and held in clips on one side. The other half is in braids. Blue this week.