"This is looking more and more murdery by the second," I said skeptically, still wiggling my toes in the bottom of my boots to keep them warm.
"I'm not murdering you! I like you too much!" Grayson explained for the twenty-second time. "Besides, if I had wanted to murder you, I should've done it back in Vegas."
"Maybe you're a really stupid murderer who doesn't know when and where is the best setting to kill his victims," I retorted. The cold was making me grumpy.
Taking one hand off the wheel, he ran a hand down his face. "For the last time, Jackie, I am not nor will I ever be a murderer. We are literally doing the super-innocent, happy act of picking out a Christmas tree."
I wasn't convinced. "Then why are we on a scary dirt road?" I challenged.
"Jackie, I know you live in Virginia, but surely you know that pine trees grow in the woods, right?" Grayson asked weakly. He was so exasperated with me that I wasn't sure if he was joking or not.
"I do know that, and yet I also know that there are probably hundreds of tree farms in Toronto, one of them five minutes away from your penthouse," I said logically.
He gave me a pitying look. "It's the experience, Jacks. You can't just walk down to the tree shop and buy a tree, where's the fun in that?"
"Being warm," I offered.
"I thought I told you to dress warm," he sighed.
He had told me that. "I did! I wore my fleece leggings and this sweater and this winter coat," I said, proud of myself.
Grayson shook his head. "You also need gloves, a hat, a scarf, two layers of socks, and I'd be wearing two pairs of leggings."
"You'd wear leggings?" I teased.
"Maybe. If I needed to be warm, yeah," he said, not backing down. "You wish you were as cool as I am, wearing leggings."
"Wait, are you wearing them right now?" I asked, glancing over at his very-jean-clad legs.
"Underneath," was all he said.
I groaned, because there was never a way to win with him. "Fineeee, next time I'll wear double layers. Happy?"
"No. You're still freezing your butt off," he pointed out.
"Yup." As if I didn't know that.
Shaking his head, Grayson finally pulled off to the side. Was this a parking spot? An emergency lane? A strip of land chosen by Grayson without reason? Who knows?
"Here, let's bundle you up," he said once the car was parked. He took his own gloves and stuffed them on my hands and crammed his hat on my head.
"But you'll be cold," I argued, pushing the fabric back from my eyes.
He kissed my forehead, right under the edge of the wool hat. "I'm fine. I have the layers. Besides, you matter more."
"Hmph." Crossing my arms, I waddled after him, following him a little ways into the woods. I was alarmed to see the ax at his side, being casually swung.
"You're chopping it down?" I blurted out.
"Well, I don't see anyone else here who would chop it down for us," he reasoned. "Unless you want to give it a whirl?"
I grimaced. "I'd end up slicing my eye. Or your eye. Or both."
"Darling, don't ruin those pretty eyes," Grayson said with a grin. I rolled my 'pretty eyes' and walked along with him, admiring the fluffy pine trees.
We hit the jackpot on the first big pine we came to. Nine feet tall, fluffy branches and light green needles. It looked straight out of a movie.
"She's beautiful. But how do we get her home?" I asked doubtfully.
Grayson hefted his ax and said, "Chop it down and tie it to the top of the car."
I was skeptical of his skills. "Really? You're gonna go all hot lumberjack and chop down a tree for me?"
"Well, since you suggested it..." His tone was dripping with fake reluctance.
"No— oh my gosh, I was kidding!" I said, mortified when he unzipped his winter coat and pulled off his t-shirt.
"No takebacks," he said with a wink, draping his clothes over a nearby fallen log.
"You idiot, it's forty out!" I said, exasperated.
"It's actually four out," he corrected me. "We hot lumberjacks use Celsius."
"That's even worse," I said, shaking my head as he took the ax and approached the tree.
"You'll get frostbite!" I yelled.
"Where? My abs? I don't even know if that's possible." He paused, moronically considering this plot twist.
Sighing, I grabbed his coat and shirt and walked over to him. "Get dressed," I said sternly.
"After I chop down your tree," Grayson said stubbornly. I plopped down on the log, knowing we'd be out here for hours. Maybe even days since Grayson would freeze to death without a shirt on.
"What do I do if you die?" I asked.
"I'm not dying," he grunted, hacking away at the base of the tree.
"Your electric pink skin says otherwise," I commented.
"Electric pink skin just means I'm burning for you, baby," he said, winking as he took another swing.
I buried my face in my hands. "UGHHH!"
Grayson laughed and kept working at his tree. I just sat and shivered on my log, watching to make sure he didn't just drop into the snow. He glanced over a few times, patiently chopping at the tree.
"I have some advice, since you're staring," he finally said. "Take a picture, it lasts longer."
I blushed furiously. "That's not why I'm staring!"
"Jacks, I didn't give a reason as to why you were," he said with a grin.
"I—no, I mean...no! I'm not—it's not, look, just, gosh dang it Grayson, put on a shirt!" I stammered, throwing his shirt at his face.
He fumbled to catch it, still wearing that stupid grin. "Wow, Jackie."
"I should've never come with you to get a tree," I said, suddenly exhausted. It's a lot of work to be flustered while throwing a tantrum.
Grayson must've caught onto my weariness, because he pulled his shirt over his head and said, "Okay, Jackie, I'll stop. You want to try to cut down the tree?"
"No," I mumbled, shivering and saddened. I just wanted to go home now; to my safe bed in Arlington. Where there was no idiot Grayson and no snow yet.
Tugging on his coat, he sat down next to me. Taking my hand in his, he gently asked, "What's wrong? I've seen you frustrated with me before and this feels different."
"I'm just having a hard week, that's all," I mumbled, hugging myself for warmth.
"You want to talk about it?" he murmured.
"I don't know that there's anything to talk about," I said, swallowing hard. "I'm just super tired and exhausted and I just want to cry sometimes. I don't feel sad about anything. Just wiped out."
Grayson leaned over and hugged me, whispering, "It's okay, Jacks. I'm probably not helping. Honestly, you deserve no more hard weeks. You've been so brave, toughing out everything, and I feel like I've only seen you fall apart a couple times."
"There should be no falling apart," I said bitterly. I was frustrated with myself, even though there wasn't any controlling what feelings I had.
"Yes, there should be," he said softly. "Trust me Jackie, you need to fall apart."
Slowly, I nodded. "Okay," I said in a small voice.
"Let's get you home then," he said, pulling me to my feet.
"But what about decorating for Christmas?" I asked, knowing it had been something he'd been looking forward to. Not to mention he'd put so much work into chopping down a tree, a tree that I actually still wanted.
Grayson looked back at his efforts. "I'll have Tay come up here and do a special delivery to the penthouse. We can decorate another day," he decided.
"You're sure?" I asked, feeling bad about crushing his Christmas spirit.
He placed a warm kiss on my cheek. "I'm sure, Jacks. Let's head back."
So we began the hike back to the car, with Grayson tightly clutching my hand to keep me close. I plodded along after him, trying not to drag my boots through the snow.
He squeezed my hand. "You'll be okay, sweetheart."
"I hope so," I mumbled sadly.
These days, it felt like nothing would be okay.