Card tables are set up around the living room and are covered with tablecloths. Every imaginable art supply is available including stickers, glitter, glue, markers, and paints. Fake snow, tiny bunches of holly, construction paper, cotton, and other things are scattered all over the tables. Everyone gets a huge clear bulb to fill and decorate.

I decide to create a Christmas cupcake. I use construction paper to form a fake wrapper. I fill the bulb with dark-red glitter, then use cotton as the frosting. I sprinkle green glitter over it and paint the year on the lower corner of the wrapper.

I'm almost done with one when Sebastian sits down next to me. He grabs one of the bulbs, quizzing, "So you're an artist too, huh?"

I shrug, then question, "You're going to make an ornament?"

"Yeah. Is that okay?" he asks, giving me a look that makes me think he's still walking on eggshells around me.

"Of course," I reply, reprimanding myself for holding a grudge.

"You sure?"

"Yes. I just didn't think you'd be into this," I admit.

He picks up a bulb. "I'm a professional. And you're going to love mine."

"Why is that?"

"You'll see." He fills the bulb with green glitter, paints a red heart on the outside, then holds it in front of the tiny craft fan until it's dry. He adds S + G in the middle of the heart, then adds the year at the bottom. He holds it out and winks, stating, "First ornament for us."

I stare at it with mixed emotions. Part of me wishes his statement were true, but after this holiday is over, I'll no longer be part of the Cartwright family.

I'll be a memory like his other fiancées.

Something about that thought pains me.

I shake off the odd feeling, force a smile, then get up and focus on helping the kids make their ornaments.

We spend the rest of the evening playing with the kids. Isabella and Emma want me to tuck them in and tell them a story, so I read them Green Eggs and Ham by Dr. Suess. Emma falls asleep, and Isabella can barely keep her eyes open. I kiss them both on the head and leave the room.

Sebastian's in the hallway, leaning against the wall. "It looks like you have a fan club," he comments.

"They're adorable," I confess.

He nods, then stares at me a moment before asking, "Ready for bed?"

Nerves fill me. My stomach flips. The comment from the backyard flashes in my head.

It must register on my face because he lowers his voice and adds, "I was an ass. And I am sorry. Are you going to hate me forever, Sunshine?"

I want to fully trust him, but it's hard, especially when I have to share a room with him. But I need to get over this, or the next month will be miserable. I square my shoulders, warning, "Don't do it again."