"Yeah, but..." Sebastian trails off.

I turn and lock eyes with him, asking, "But what?"

He clenches his jaw and stares at me for a moment, then answers, "He came back home and begged for forgiveness. So she pretended it didn't happen for a few months. Then she brought home her new friend." "Another man?" I question.

Sebastian shakes his head. "Nope. She brought home another woman."

I gape at him.

"You want to know the final kicker?"

"There's more?" I ask, wondering what else could top that situation.

He adds, "She moved her new friend in, but her hubby moved his friend in as well."

I throw my hand over my mouth.

"True story," he states, then sits back.

"Their story's way more interesting than yours," I proclaim.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Sunshine." He winks, and my heart melts more. I take a fork full of pecan pie and hold it to his mouth. This time I let him take it.

He groans, chews, swallows, and admits, "This is good."

"One thing I know is my pecan pie, and I agree."

He wipes his mouth with his napkin, then questions, "What would you be doing over Christmas if you weren't with me?"

My chest tightens. I admit, "I'm not sure."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. This is the first year my grammy's not alive. Melanie's my only friend in town, so maybe I would have spent it with her. Or maybe I'd be alone." Grief lodges in my throat.

Sebastian takes my hand.

I force a smile and add, "I thought about going to Iceland for the holiday."

He wrinkles his forehead. "Are you looking to freeze your ass off?"

I laugh and shrug. "It's supposed to be really cool at Christmas. It was that or the North Pole, but Iceland seemed not as scary."

Amused, he asks, "The North Pole is scary?"

I put my hand over my face and groan. "I don't know. I didn't research it yet, but I figured the population has to be bigger in Iceland?"

He leans closer. "And that would be important because?"

I shake my head. "No clue. It just seemed safer? I don't know! It was just a silly idea."

"Oh, I don't know. I can see where you were going with it," he states then asks, "What did you do for Thanksgiving?"

I take a deep breath and relay, "Melanie and her family were supposed to come over, but they got sick. I had already started cooking everything, so I finished making it and dropped it off at her front door. Then I spent the rest of the day baking the Black Friday Cupcakes."

His expression turns guilty. "I'm an asshole. I'm sorry, Georgia."

"For what?"

He glances at the ceiling, shakes his head, and then states, "For giving you so much shit about your cupcakes all the time."

"It's fine," I offer.

"No, it's not," he says.