“Gertrude, don’t you find itdreadfullyannoying when people persist in asking you questions you’d rather not answer?”
Gideon’s mouth turned up in a lopsided smile. “Indeed, Lavender.Dreadfullyannoying.”
Hazel huffed and rolled her eyes but moved on.
And meanwhile, I resolved to figure out Gideon’s middle name myself.
The next hour passed by in a blur. Hazel led us through a discussion of all the hot gossip in the neighborhood—mostly details of her imaginary Christmas ball—and every so often, after taking a sip of tea, Gideon would move my hand an inch up his thigh. I hadn’t known a tea party could be the world’s most bizarre kind of foreplay, and it felt like it should be seriously fucking wrong, but damn. It was also so, so good.
And I would never be able to taste this tea again without getting hard.
Finally, a seemingly interminable amount of time later, Hazel yawned hugely.
“Tired, Bug?” Gideon said. “Bedtime?”
Hazel shook her head stubbornly. “I would never leave in the middle of a party.”
“But tomorrow afternoon, you were planning to make decorations for the Parade,” I reminded her. “Don’t you want to be well rested?”
She sighed. “I guess.”
“Speaking of decorations,” Gideon said, looking around the room with narrowed eyes, “Nothing new arrived today while I was gone?”
Hazel shrugged and traced a finger along the coffee table. “I don’t know what you mean, Gertrude.”
He narrowed his eyes. “No new railroads? No blow-up Santas in the backyard? No tiny re-creations of a North Pole elf sweatshop in the hall bathroom? Has my laundry detergent been replaced by something that smells like afa la la-ing candy cane?”
Hazel laughed. “No! None of those things!”
“A Rudolph head hanging on my wall? Tinsel in my underwear drawer? A tree in my shower?”
“No!” She laughed harder. I realized I couldn’t remember the last time she’d laughed that hard with anyone but me, and the realization broke my heart, at the same time seeing her now with Gideon put it back together again. “Though I would really like Santa to bring a tree. Just not in your shower.”
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you, Hazel Grace?” he teased, leaning over to tickle her ribs.
“Of course not!” She ducked away. “Gertrude, your manners are appalling.”
“And you, Princess Hazel, need to get to bed,” I told her. “Shower first.”
She sighed again. “Orrrrwe could have more toast.”
“Orrrr,” Gideon said. “No more toast, and instead you come help me pick out a Christmas tree tomorrow.”
Hazel’s eyes widened. So did mine.
“But you said Christmas trees are fire hazards,” she whispered.
“Not if you take proper care of them,” Gideon said, casting a sideways glance at me. “I think a lot of things are dangerous if you don’t take care of them properly.”
“I’ll take care of it!” Hazel said, a huge smile dawning on her face. “I so will.”
“I know,” Gideon said. “And so—”
Whatever he was going to say next was cut off by my daughter launching all fifty pounds of herself around the table and onto Gideon. He caught her with two hands.
“You are the best,” she told him, her little arms tight around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
I swallowed hard, supremely glad that she was happy and also… a little sad becauseshit, I wished I’d been the one to put that look on her face.
