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is.” He picked up his glass and took a long drink before he smiled at it.

      “Why are you smiling?”

      “I was just thinking. Cranberry juice reminds me of Christmas.”

      “Really? Why? I would think Thanksgiving. Ugh. I was just reminded that I didn’t get to have any cranberry sauce this year. Plopping that stuff out of that can is my favorite thing about the holiday.”

      “My mother hates the stuff from the can and refuses to serve it, but I love it. But cranberries remind me of Christmas because my mother used to make us string them for garland every year.”

      “That seems like a lot of work,” she said, but she could tell by his smile that it was a good memory.

      “It was, and my sister and I hated it. But looking back, it was fun. My mother used to go crazy when we were kids. My father would take us to cut down a huge tree every year and my mother would pull out the old ornaments that she got from her grandmother and each one of them had to be placed just right. And in the front, under the star were the ornaments that my sister and I made in first grade. They didn’t go with the antique stuff, but they got a place of honor every year.”

      “That’s very sweet. Does she still do that?”

      “No.” He shook his head and an almost sad expression crossed his face. “She hasn’t put up a tree in years. Our house used to be decked out in lights, but after my sister and I graduated from college she stopped doing all of that. It was too much work.”

      “That doesn’t mean you can’t do it again. I’m sure your mother would like it if you wanted to do it again.”

      “She told me they’ve put the house up for sale and that they are moving to Florida. That’s why she stopped by yesterday, to tell me she’s retiring. There won’t be any more snowy Christmases at that house.”

      “But what about this Christmas?”

      “We’re going to my sister’s place.”

      Hallie put her plate down on the table and wrapped her arms around his middle, feeling the need to comfort him. “Your childhood home is something you feel should always be there, isn’t it?”

      “I didn’t realize I’d missed all those little traditions until I knew they weren’t going to happen anymore.”

      “You can make your own traditions, you know. You’ll get married and have kids and you’ll do things for them like your parents did for you.”

      “You’re right.” He draped his arm around her and rested his lips on her forehead. She closed her eyes, liking the closeness, the intimacy she had with him. She had never had this with Brent. They’d never just sat like this, their skin touching, their arms wrapped around each other, each lost in their own thoughts.

      The only time Brent touched her was when he wanted to take her to bed. She barely knew Asa and yet was sitting this close to him on the couch. She felt closer to him than the man she had been planning to spend the rest of her life with. And then it dawned on her what she was doing.

      She sat up quickly, retrieving her plate so that her hands would be full and not reach for him.

      She barely knew him.

      They were just supposed to be friends.

      She wasn’t supposed to feel this kind of pull toward him.

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