I was trying like hell to find me in all the rubble of my suffering.
Our session concluded, and I confirmed my appointment for the following week with Maureen, also taking the time to advise her of the days I would be in Mexico.
Then, I walked one block from Doctor Colby’s office building to the small tree lot they’d set up on the corner. It didn’t take long to find a tree, this one as per Leighton’s request, but maybe a little less pathetic and larger than she’d have liked. The family running the lot seemed thrilled with my choice of the ugly tree.
“If I bring my car around, will you load it for me?” I asked the man.
He smiled. “Sure thing, Miss.”
It took me about fifteen minutes to walk back to the building, head down to the garage, and pull my Range Rover up the block. We struggled for a minute, eventually needing to lay the backseat down just to fit the poor spruce in there. After ten minutes, we succeeded, and I was on my way to the store in search of decorations.
I didn’t have any at home, given my growing dislike of the season, or if I did, I hadn’t a clue where they were and I always spent Christmas with my parents. They had a spectacular tree.
Settling on a tree stand, a few boxes of gold bulbs, some white lights, and a star for the top, I was on my way home. It was a weekend, and shouldn’t have taken quite so long to make the drive to my building, but for some reason, every winter season, the entire city forgot how to drive in the snow.
I mean, we lived in Canada, in a city that got so much precipitation year-round we could solely support the rain boot trade, but still, everyone acted as though they’d never seen rain or snow before.
Turning the engine off, I slid from my seat and popped open the backdoor, looking at the tree.
I leaned in, grabbing it by the trunk, and pulled. I underestimated the weight, my hands slipped, and I fell ass first into the slush on the road.
“Are you trying to kill yourself?” I looked up to see Dean standing on the sidewalk, arms crossed over his chest and a shit-eating grin on his face.
“You’re still here?” I groaned, using my hands to stand up, but soaking them in the process.
He laughed at my predicament. “I was about to leave until I saw you.”
“Lucky me.” I was being prickly.
Walking off the curb, he looked into my SUV and wrapped his hands around the trunk. He dragged it like it weighed nothing and set it down between us.
“You want some help?” he asked.
“I’m dating,” I blurted.
Apparently, I did a lot of that today where Dean was concerned.
“Okay.” He looked over the tree at me, clearly bemused.
“I just wanted you to know I’m dating,” I clarified, wiping my wet hands on my jeans.
“You’re dating,” he repeated.
“I’m dating.” I nodded. “You’re offering to help me with my tree, so I just thought you should know I’m dating.”
“Well, all right then.” He shook his head, still laughing. “You’re dating.”
Dean didn’t wait for me to say anything else. Instead, he heaved the tree into the air and started walking towards the entrance to my building.
I scrambled, grabbing the bags of decorations and my purse before chasing after him. He didn’t have to wait though; he punched in his own obviously temporary access code for the building and motioned for me to open the door.
“Oh, right,” I mumbled lamely, and held it open as he, and my ugly tree, went inside.
It was hard not to think of all the great Christmas’ we’d had together before things got bad. Watching him all grown up and dragging that god-awful tree into the elevator, I remembered a time when I thought this was how I’d spend every Christmas for the rest of my life.
With him, and our children, and Henry.
Time could do a lot of damage to a dream.
The three of us, me, Dean, and my Charlie Brown tree, shoved into the elevator as the doors closed.
“This is kind of an ugly tree.” He chuckled, and I glared through the branches at him.
“It’s a Charlie Brown tree,” I defended the greenery.
He looked down at the tree and then back at me. “Isn’t it a bit big to be a Charlie Brown tree?”
“Shut up,” I said, as I stepped out onto my floor.
Running ahead of him, I unlocked the door and held it open while he brought the tree inside.
“Where do you want it?” Dean asked.
I looked around the room and pointed between two of the windows. “Over there.”
He laid my tree on the ground and stood over it, assessing. “You got a tree stand in one of those bags?”
Dropping the bags on the ground, I rummaged through them and pulled out the green stand I’d purchased. “Here.” I held it out to him.
Kneeling down, I watched as he began expertly affixing it to the bottom of the tree.
“Where’s Alycia today?” I blurted.
I was going to have to work on that.
The side of his profile tipped up and I could tell he was smiling. “She’s with her grandparents. Brooke’s parents,” he clarified, though he knew he didn’t have too. I knew Dean had no family.