In response, Miriam wrapped her arms around Noelle’s waist, their puffy jackets getting in the way, and moved her head a fraction of an inch to close the gap between them. They fell into each other, the center of the night, the skies circling around them. Noelle felt Miriam’s knees go weak, and she chuckled where their tongues met, as she hauled her back up.

When they finally dragged their lips apart, Miriam whispered, “I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready.”

The next morning, after a lot of kissing and very little sleep, Noelle was up early, lying in wait for Miriam in the trees. She watched Miriam walk toward her, scarf blowing behind her in the wind.

God, she was sexy.

“When I was a kid,” Miriam said as soon as she was within earshot, “I loved to walk through the farm, running my fingers through the needles on either side of the aisles. I’ve missed them.”

Noelle could understand this, as she tended to get itchy if she was away from the trees for more than a few hours. “Have you been into the back acreage?” she asked, already knowing the answer. If Miriam had been in her trees, she would have known.

“No, I’ve been distracted by everything else going on. I forgot how much it feels like being Lucy Pevensie to walk back into them.”

It was strange, how well Miriam understood things that Noelle had never even articulated to herself.

Exhilarating.

“Hannah told me you needed me to check out a tree for the tree lighting? I trust you to choose whichever one is best,” Miriam said. “But I do want to ask you about what the hell I should put on the tree.”

“Oh, no, I don’t need your help. That was a ruse to get you out here, because I wanted to kiss you away from our nosy friends and relations.” Although she was pretty sure Hannah already knew, because she’d basically pushed Noelle out of the door.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Miriam asked, fluttering her eyelashes and putting her fingers in the pockets of Noelle’s jeans to pull herself in.

Noelle kissed her, slowly, exploring her mouth. She tasted of coffee and a Rosenstein’s raspberry Danish, and it was intoxicating.

“To answer your question,” she said when they broke apart, resting a hand on Miriam’s ass in her fleece-lined leggings (she couldn’t stop herself), “Cass used to do the decorating, so there have been some fairly wacky themed trees over the years. Elvis, pink flamingos—the lawn decoration, not the film—and cats. Flying cats.” Noelle thought back. “One year it all glowed in black light. It’s pretty broad. That said, you know, family-friendly.”

“No dildos, you’re saying. Bummer. That’s totally where I was going.” Miriam rolled her eyes.