One of the cords Vincent wasn’t letting go of was the Christmas tree in his parlor. He wasn’t going to remove it. It could rot there, until nothing was left but dead bare branches, but it was staying there in his parlor until Larissa showed up for the ornaments on it.

Jonathan was right, they were valuable to her, and Vincent was counting on that, that she wouldn’t send just anyone by to fetch them for her, that she would come herself to collect them. And when she did, she wasn’t going to be handed a filled trunk that she could immediately leave with, she was going to have to spend a bit of time there removing the ornaments from the tree herself.

It was his last hope. A little time with her alone. And perhaps she might remember, as well, the fun they’d had decorating her tree. He was counting on that, counting on other memories associated with his house to remind her how wonderful their lives could be, if she would give him another chance.

He took precautions as well, going out only when he absolutely had to. She might think she could come there without seeing him, but he had left strict orders that he was to be summoned if she showed up, and not let in at all if he wasn’t there, which would force her to return when he was. And so he waited.

She did come, and in the late morning when he was usually home, so she was making no effort to avoid him. He found her still in the hall where she’d been asked to wait. She appeared nervous. It was actually hard to discern, when her beauty overwhelmed him, but he did notice it, the chewing at her lower lip that she stopped when he appeared, her hands clenched tightly in front of her.

It was perhaps that nervousness, rather than her desire to leave soonest, that had her blurting out immediately, “I’ve come for our Christmas ornaments. I couldn’t bring myself to fetch them sooner.”

“I understand you’d rather not see me.”

“It wasn’t that. I just wanted you to have a normal Christmas tree for once. We made do, sharing the Applebees’ tree for the remainder of the season. But I knew you wouldn’t, that if we stripped your tree, you’d leave it that way.”

“Why?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why did it matter to you?” he asked.

“Because it was your first tree.”

“So? I’ve gone this long without having one. I could have gone the rest of my life without having one.”

“That’s why, because you don’t care. Because it saddens me that you don’t care.”