It took a few trips to bring the packages down to my car. Except for Novotny’s, they were all bulky and awkward, and I didn’t want to drop them.
And while I jogged up and down the stairs, I found myself whistling “Santa Claus is Comin’ to Town.”
When I was a few blocks away from his house, I had “Mother” speed dial Quinn’s phone. “I’m almost there.”
He was waiting for me as I turned into his driveway. I caught him in my headlights and saw he was wearing a cream-colored fisherman-knit sweater and dark trousers. There was a light breeze blowing, and it mussed his hair.
I doused the headlights, switched off the ignition, and got out of the car. Quinn didn’t kiss me—we could be seen by inquisitive neighbors, especially the couple who lived across the street and who had suddenly started pay
