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Feyre knew taking Rhys to buy the Christmas tree wasn’t her best idea.
“This one looks good, doesn’t it?” Feyre asked, pointing to a nearby evergreen.
“Too small.”
“How about that one?” She said, taking his hand and leading him to another.
“It leans to the left too much, you see?” Rhys tilted his body until he looked like the tree branch, leaning ever so slightly. “All the ornaments will fall right off!”
“Rhys…” Feyre sighed, turning to face her husband, “we’ve looked at eleven trees. Eleven. There has to be one here that meets your standards.”
If it were up to Feyre, they would’ve picked the third tree they looked at. Medium sized, sturdy branches, and stood straight, at least as far as she could tell. It was a beautiful tree, were it not for Rhys’s pickiness. He’d claimed it was too small to even be considered a Christmas tree, and despite Feyre’s protests, he didn’t budge. They weren’t getting a mediocre tree for Christmas, he’d said to her. She only sighed, pointed to another, and trudged along.
After this eleventh tree, though, she was getting tired. They’d been gone since the early afternoon, and this was the third—yes, third—place Rhys had dragged them to, claiming the other two locations had trees that would die within a week, and he wanted theirs to last. Knowing nothing about buying a live Christmas tree, Feyre didn’t question him. After all, she’d only had artificial ones they could put up, take down after the holidays, and put it back up again the next year. She trusted him, but this seemed…excessive. While she didn’t mind spending the time with Rhys, Feyre was getting tired, and it was almost dinnertime.
“Okay, just one last look and we can—there!” Rhys’s eyes lit up and he pointed up to a nearby tree.
Up, because it was massive. It had to have been at least ten feet tall, Feyre realized, following Rhys as he skipped towards the tree, a smile spread across his face.
“It’s perfect!”
“Rhys…can that thing even fit in our house?”
“It’s exactly what I was looking for,” he replied, “and, I took some measurements before we left. It’ll fit. Now, c’mon, let’s pay and get decorating.”
Feyre wasn’t so sure it’d fit in their living room, but she was willing to try. The more she stared at it, the more she fell in love. It was a sturdy tree, with the perfect branches for setting down ornaments. Plus, the vibrant green would match with their tinsel perfectly.
“How are we getting this thing home, Rhys? It won’t fit in our car.”
Rhys grinned and kissed his wife’s cheek. “That’s why we have a roof, Feyre darling.”
***
To Feyre’s surprise, the tree did fit in their living room. Barely.
There was maybe half a foot of room between the top of the tree and the ceiling, but the tree fit. How they were going to manage getting the star on top…well, they’d figure something out.
Rhys came into the living room with a wrapped box.
“Putting presents under the tree already? We haven’t even decorated.”
He tossed it to Feyre with a mischievous smile. “Open it.”
She raised her brow, but he nodded, as if to say, go on, open the present. It’s not going to bite.
So Feyre carefully unwrapped the bow, and then the wrapping paper, and finally, opened the box.
Inside were two pairs of matching pajamas. Flannel pants with Christmas trees, snowmen, Santas, and stars, one pair for her, and one for Rhys.
“I love them,” she said, hugging him tightly.
“I’m glad, because we’re putting them on and decorating the tree in our pajamas. No better way to have Christmas spirit, right, Feyre darling?”
She laughed, taking off her leggings and replacing them with the flannel pants. And boy, were they comfy, like stepping into pants heaven. Rhys did the same, sighing as fabric touched skin. “Comfortable, right? You did well,” Feyre said, tightening the waist and tying the strings together.
Rhys winked. “I know. Now, ready to decorate?”
Without another word, Feyre sped to the basement, grabbing boxes and boxes of ornaments and tinsel. “I need some help here, Rhys!” She called, unable to carry everything herself.
Rhys was down in an instant, running up with two boxes at a time, until there were none left.
“Is that everything?”
“Every box I could find,” she said, opening the one closest to her. “Tinsel or ornaments first?”
“Tinsel. Definitely tinsel.”
So she pulled out the purple, sparkling object from the box and handed it to Rhys, who started to wrap it in circles to keep it from tangling within itself. And together, once the strand was out of the box, Feyre and Rhys went to work, circling the massive tree in shining tinsel. It took standing on a chair for either of them to reach the top of the tree.
And, given the tree’s size, they ran out of material after half the tree was covered.
“Hold on,” Feyre said, opening up another box, “we need to have some more somewhere…here!” After rummaging through the second box, she found a second string of tinsel, the same deep purple tone. “It might take a little untangling, but it’ll do.”
Together, they detangled the tinsel, careful not to rip any of the sparkling material off, and then, together, they finished placing it around the tree, until it was dripping in purple.
Rhys was already opening the boxes of ornaments while Feyre finished securing the tinsel to the bottom of the tree.
Baubles of silver, purples, and ornaments for each member of their family sat in the boxes, carefully wrapped and protected to keep them from breaking.
“Silver and purple first?” Feyre suggested, and Rhys nodded, taking a few into his hands and passing some to Feyre.
They started at the bottom—the easiest place for them to reach—and worked their way up, alternating purple and silver, until well over three-quarters of the tree was covered, and stepped back to inspect their work.
“Looking good, darling,” Rhys said, “now, hop on my shoulders.”
Feyre’s eyes widened. “Why would I—”
“We need to reach the rest of the tree somehow, so just hop on, and—”
“We have a chair for that!”
“A chair won’t reach the top! So just hop on, and we’ll finish the tree.”
Feyre didn’t move. “What if I fall?”
“You won’t fall,” he said, winking. “I promise.”
She sighed, and told him to bend down. Carefully, she put her legs over his shoulders, and he stood up, as she held onto him for dear life.
“Feyre, you’re not going to fall, you don’t have to pull my hair so hard. Though, if you did that in the bedroom, I certainly wouldn’t complain…”
She swatted his head. “You were standing up and I needed something to hold onto!”
She felt Rhys’s chest rumble in a laugh, and then he handed her an ornament. Then another. And then they set a rhythm, Rhys handing her ornaments as she placed them on the tree, then they would move and repeat the process, until every remaining ornament was on the tree.
All that remained was the star.
Rhys handed her the glittering topper, and ever so gently—or, as gently as she could be, given she had to stretch to reach the top—Feyre placed the star on top of the tree.
“Let me down, Rhys. I want to see the finished product!”
Rhys bent down, letting Feyre down so she could see the tree for herself.
They both stepped back and took a look at the tree. The tinsel glittered along with the ornaments, gleaming in the light. Finally, they looked up to the star, shining as bright as the night sky atop the tree. It was a gorgeous sight, Feyre realized, proud of her and Rhys’s work.
He pulled her close, wrapping an arm around her.
“We did a pretty good job, if I do say so myself.”
“I think I’ll have to agree with you on this one,” Feyre said, pulling him in for a kiss. “Merry Christmas, Rhys.”
“Merry Christmas, Feyre darling.”