I kept staring at him, but something happened while I did.

He watched me a beat, saw that something happen, and said, “Fuck, you’re gonna cry again, aren’t you?”

I slapped his shoulder and snapped, “I’ve cried once with you, Merry. Once.”

“Well, this time I don’t have time to get you through it. I gotta get Ethan to school.”

I gotta get Ethan to school.

He took my kid to school every day. Every day. Unless he was out on an early morning case, which was rare, it was no fail.

Every day.

Mornings were now our thing, the three of us, but the school run was Merry and Ethan’s thing.

I felt wet hit my cheek.

“Shit,” he muttered, watching the tear fall.

“Stop making me happy,” I whispered.

His eyes came back to mine and his were dancing.

But when he replied, he was whispering too.

“Not gonna happen.”

“You need to be annoying on a more regular basis,” I demanded softly.

His body started shaking and his voice was doing it as well when he stated, “That’s not gonna happen either.”

“Okay, then you need to go because I have a lake house Christmas theme to plan and execute and that’s not gonna happen when you’re standing here being awesome.”

He audibly started laughing, and in the middle of it, he kissed me.

His laughter tasted great on my tongue.

The best.

“Okay, guys,” Ethan shouted. “Are you done with the gooey? ’Cause I been waitin’ in the hall, like, forever. I might not wanna get to school, but I’m cruisin’ toward perfect attendance third year running, which includes not being tardy, and, you take much longer, you’re messin’ with that mojo.”

Merry broke the kiss, and when he did, my tears had subsided.

This was because Merry’s kiss, as ever, was a good one.

It was also because my man and I were standing in his kitchen in his lake house, which would soon be my kitchen in our lake house, and we were staring at each other, laughing at my kid.

And I was finding I had a life that was filled with a lot of that.

Laughter.

So now, for a different reason, I had no room for tears.

* * * * *

I stood in Bobbie’s Garden Shoppe in her enormous Christmas section that was renown throughout the Midwest. It was this because it was so huge, she had to dedicate half her shop to it and half her parking lot, seeing as she had massive heavy-duty, heated tents where more of her Christmas crap was displayed.

I was there and had been for forty-five minutes.

But I found what I was looking for.

So there I stood, staring at a Christmas tree, and I was pretty certain I was going to buy the whole damn thing as it was—ornament by ornament, garland by garland—and resurrect it in Merry’s awesome new lake house. It was boho to the max, colorful with lots of berries and crystals and differently sized and shaped ornaments, very cluttered, stuffed full, totally awesome.