We offer our goodbyes before we exit the store, Amelia hustling me right out of there. The moment we’re outside, she sags with relief, sending me a grateful look.

“For some reason, my mother really likes you,” she says wryly. “And she usually doesn’t like anyone I date. Not that I’ve dated a lot of guys.”

“She didn’t like your ex?” I ask. I probably shouldn’t bring him up. I hate the asshole, and I don’t even know him.

“She did at first. Though I think it was more about the idea of me being with someone who she believed I would marry. And when that didn’t happen, she was disappointed,” she admits, sending me a quick look. “But she really does seem to like you. She was so nice just now.”

“Hey, I’m a nice guy. And I brought her a pretty Christmas tree,” I remind her, trying to lighten the mood.

Amelia hooks her arm through mine, resting her head on my shoulder for the briefest moment as I escort her to my car. “You did bring her a pretty Christmas tree. She loves that thing. Want me to be honest though?”

“Always,” I say without hesitation.

“I think she’s just glad that I’m happy,” she admits, her voice soft.

I smile down at her. “You are?”

She gazes up at me. “Thanks to you.”

Unable to help myself, I kiss her right there on the sidewalk, not giving a good goddamn who sees us. “Maybe that’s all your mother has ever wanted. For you to be happy.”

“Maybe,” Amelia says thoughtfully as we keep walking. I had to park kind of far and I feel bad because of her high heels, but the streets are crowded today and it couldn’t be helped. “I always figured she wanted to marry me off to get grandchildren. She used to put such enormous pressure on me.”

“She might’ve seen the error in her ways,” I suggest. “You never know. After witnessing you in such a—bad relationship before. Now all she cares about is seeing you have a smile on your face.”

“I was pretty mopey, even in the relationship,” she agrees. “But now I’m definitely not.”

“Are you saying I have something to do with that?” I ask, kind of hating how hopeful I sound. I clear my throat. Tell myself to calm the hell down.

But I know I’ve contributed to her good mood. Her happiness. That’s all I want for Amelia. I firmly believe I can do something about that too.

As in, I make her happy. And I want to continue making her happy as well.

For as long as she’ll let me.

“My feet already hurt,” she grumbles as I snag her hand to lead her across the street.

“I’d tell you maybe you shouldn’t have worn those shoes, but I can’t make myself say it,” I tell her.

She’s frowning. “Why not?”

“Because your legs look damn sexy in those shoes.” I shoot a dirty smile in her direction. “Maybe you could wear them and nothing else to bed later.”