“It’s the first week of November,” he deadpans.
“So, you’re saying I better get a move on, then, right?”
“Wait until Thanksgiving?”
“The day before?” I ask, batting my eyelashes. “But for real, I’d like to have the house all done up before everyone comes over for Thanksgiving.”
Lucas narrows his eyes. “You want to decorate the house for Christmas before your friends and family come over for Thanksgiving.”
“Yeah.”
“Why don’t you just wait?”
“I get impatient, and it takes me hours to get everything up. I want to enjoy it as long as I can. Last year my tree went up on November sixteenth. It was a record for me. Usually I do wait until a few days before Thanksgiving, but it was a, ah, stressful month.”
Lucas moves behind me, arms snaking around my waist. Christmas is a weird reprieve for me, and would probably confuse the hell out of therapists. I was treated like shit and it all came to a screeching, fake-as-fuck halt when the tree went up in my childhood home. The house was full of guests and reporters, and we had to play the part of a big happy family.
That sense of safety never went away, and the more decorations I put up, the stronger that feeling is. I probably should seek professional help at some point, but not until I’m drowning in tinsel and gingerbread.
“I had a company put Christmas lights on the house in Lincoln Park last year,” Lucas tells me. “Only because Eliza insisted, we blend in with the rest of the street. It was the first time I decorated for a holiday.”
“Ever?” I ask incredulously. “How can you have lived for over a thousand years and never once wanted to decorate for a holiday?”
“Thanksgiving has no appeal.”
“That one I get, since it’s all about food. But Christmas?”
“I didn’t believe in angels, demons, or God until recently. And I’ve always known the truth about Santa.”
“But Halloween? How can you be a vampire and not like Halloween?”
“It’s too commercialized.”
“Those are pretty much the only three I celebrate.” I turn around and hook my hands around his neck. “And definitely the only ones I decorate for, though I do have apothecary jars I like to fill with pink candy in February for Valentine’s Day.”
“If decorating for holidays makes you happy, then we’re going to decorate for every fucking holiday there is.” Lucas’s large hands slide down my waist.
“I’ve always thought National Wine Day should be a major holiday.”
“Speaking of wine, I have a surprise for you.”
“I can’t drink, remember?”
“I know,” he says. “But you will be able to again eventually.” Taking my hand, he leads me down the grand staircase and into the basement. All of my holiday decor bins as well as a few other boxes full of stuff I’m not able to part with are to the right of the stairs, pushed up against a brick wall for the time being.
This basement, like many basements of houses this age, is dark and cavernous. The ceiling is surprisingly tall, and if we ever wanted to finish a room or two down here, we could. The house has more than enough space, and using the basement for storage is perfect. The basement is pretty damn cool, actually, and is sectioned off in little rooms. A few have neat brick arches, details you just don’t see in new houses anymore.
“Close your eyes,” Lucas tells me and takes my hand, leading me forward. I hear him open a door, and he guides me a few more feet forward. “Okay, you can look now.”
I gasp, hands going to my mouth, when I open my room. “A wine cellar!” The arched doorway has been fitted with custom wooden doors, and the walls are lined with dark oak shelves, ready to house hundreds of bottles of wine. A table and chairs are set up in the middle of the room, and the whole thing has a gothic feel. “Lucas!” I tear my eyes away from the walls and look at my husband, getting all teary. “Thank you,” I squeak out before I start crying.
“Every mansion needs its own wine cellar.”
“I have to show this off,” I laugh and take pictures to send to Kristy, Nicole, and Naomi. “And now I cannot wait to start filling these shelves.” I look at Lucas, knowing and not caring that I have a goony smile on my face.
“You can’t say I’m cheap now.”
Laughing, I stand on my toes to kiss him. “No, I can’t. Though the real test will come when it’s time for me to start filling these shelves.”
“Start now,” he says. “Have whatever you want shipped from the vineyard. You can’t drink it now, but we both know you’ll want to show this room off to your friends on Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, for sure.”
He takes my hand and we walk out of the basement. We spend a moment chatting with the workers, getting another progress update. Everything has been running along smoothly now that the main issues have been addressed. A few windows will need to be replaced if we want the house to be energy efficient, but it’s nothing major.