Dear Santa, What Happened to the Plan We Had?

"What made you go with the Charlie Brown Christmas tree?" he asks evenly.

I spot him near our adorably decorated tree, staring at the ornament his niece crafted for him.

I bought the Charlie Brown-themed tree only a week ago because it was extremely hard to find, but he wouldn't know this, considering he just barely returned home on Christmas Eve.

I turn to him, his smooth voice distracting me from sprinkling a fresh batch of holiday-shaped sugar cookies. "Eh, I don't know. Quirky little idea I had a while ago. Nostalgic, I guess," I chuckle softly and lick the leftover red and green sugar crystals from my fingertips. "You like it?"

"You're a nut." He shakes his head, with no hint of a smile or sign that he's joking, except when his hazel eyes twinkle with a distinct gleam of adoration.

"Love you, too, Gav," I tell him sweetly and scrunch up my nose in a teasing manner. He's not so good at saying it, but I know he feels the same.

I roll my eyes and pop a tiny cookie into my mouth. The aggressive sting of salivation makes me wince, but the delicious treat atones for my brief discomfort.

"Aren't you sick of those yet?" I feel Gavin moving towards me before I hear him - my body immediately reacts to our proximity.

"Nope," I say around a mouthful of sugary crumbs. "They're unreal. I found the recipe on this random website, and oh my gosh, you wouldn't believe how many batches I ruined."

I spin around and see him leaning against the opposite kitchen counter. He folds his sexy, toned arms across his chest and eyes me carefully. I ignore his aloof behavior as always. After almost two years, I've learned that it rarely matches with what he's thinking anyway.

"How many batches did you ruin?" he parrots absently, humoring me.

"A lot," I mouth. "But somehow they turned out perfect today, and your family loved them. It's a Christmas miracle."

He doesn't laugh at my little joke, just crosses his ankles casually. "I think it is."

"You haven't had one, have you?" I narrow my eyes and reach for another cookie.

"Nope."

"Rude." I pout and inch towards him. "Here, try it."

"You know my teeth freak out when I eat junk food," he rejects the treat so calmly that it doesn't seem like a rejection. I continue to slowly stalk closer to him. He looks me up and down just as slowly. It makes a chill shoot up my legs and spine.

"Then brush them after." I shrug. I finally see the first sign of a smile on his handsome, short-bearded face; it still doesn't make an appearance, though. "Or buy new teeth."

"And where exactly does one get 'new teeth', Cece?" A quick smile ghosts across his lips, but he hides it with air quotes.

"I'm sure an obscenely rich guy like you could figure it out," I scoff at the ridiculousness of our playful conversation. "Come on, just eat my cookie."

I inhale the heavenly aroma radiating from the tiny, sugar Christmas tree, and it reminds me of the lovely evening we just had with his family. A night full of blessings that have already turned into memories. Another one for the books; my and Gavin's second Christmas together. My first without my family. They weren't happy about it, but I decided to stay in LA with my gorgeous, but elusive, boyfriend. Not being back home in Boston for every major holiday is something we'll all have to get used to eventually.

I still haven't told them I've actually moved in with Gavin yet. That's kind of more after-the-holidays type of news.

He quirks a dark, suggestive eyebrow. "You want me to eat your cookie?"

"Don't be such a perv."

"I'll eat it if you want me to," his voice lowers wickedly and I resist the urge to curl my toes at the sound.

I stop moving toward him and hold it out to him. He grasps my wrist instead and pulls me into his hard body in one, fluid motion. The piece of dessert falls to the linoleum floor.

"Gavin," I gasp, clutching his biceps. "That's wasted food."

"I have something a lot sweeter in mind," he purrs in my ear.

My knees buckle at his words, but he holds me up by my waist.

"Like what?"