The Becketts were so different from the Finches that she had to keep reminding herself to stop expecting the worst, because unless the Becketts were complete sociopaths, their family was pretty close to the polar opposite of the one she’d grown up in. For one, the men weren’t all in the den, drinks in hand, waiting for their wives to come refresh them. The women, in turn, weren’t all packed into the kitchen or the laundry room, alone, doing the often unseen labor it takes to pull off a family gathering.

It was nice, and calm, and it would be easy to imagine that this was what her life would be like from now on—a large part of her wanted to live in the fantasy even knowing she had a few days to go before the timer went off on her marriage.

“I have a surprise for you,” Nash said as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, tucking her in close so that the top of her head brushed the underside of his chin as they stood in front of the last Christmas tree.

“Does it involve a quickie in a closet?” Not that she’d been eyeballing the closed door under the stairs or anything—but she totally had.

Nash shifted his stance, bringing her closer against him. “No, but I like how your mind works.” He spread his hand wide over her lower belly, sneaking a few fingers under the waistband of her jeans. “You know, I think we should try out all of the closets.”

Was she tempted? Hell yes. Was she going to take Nash up on the offer? No. Getting caught going at it in a closet was not the way she wanted the Becketts to remember her, even if she’d likely never see them again after Christmas.

That little reminder had her blinking away unexpected tears as she stared hard—really fucking hard—at a badly cut-out stock-paper glove with a picture of Santa Claus drawn in crayon and signed Nash, first grade. Clenching her jaw tight enough to hurt, she inhaled a deep breath while making sure not to flinch or let her shoulders sink or in any other way show how hard the reality of the situation hit.

They had an agreement. She would stick to it. She owed him that much for helping her save the foundation from her uncle.

Pulling her shit together, she exhaled and did her best attempt at being casual. “What’s the surprise, Nash?”

He stepped back, drawing his hand slowly across her belly as he did, as if he didn’t want to let her go, either. Then he held out his hand to her. “Come with me.”

“This better not be a closet,” she said as she intertwined her fingers with his, a shiver of anticipation winding its way through her.

“Next time.”