“Dinner or presents first?” he asked me.
“Dinner please,” I answered meekly, both because I was a little embarrassed at the fact that he’dgottenme anything, much less three things, and also because I was hungry and hadn’t had decent (aka, not microwave or boiling-water prepackaged) Thai food since I’d left Richmond.
He grinned again, then led me over to the dining table, where he’d set out the food in serving bowls and on platters, and had put fresh beeswax candles in the center.
“El—”
He kissed my cheek again, then pulled out a chair for me. “Happy birthday, Seth.”
I’d stuffedmyself to a ridiculous point on Thai food—Elliot had gotten more than enough for the two of us to have leftovers for a few days, not that I was complaining—before he convinced me to open the presents, one of which was actually from Judy and Marsh Hart. That one was a really nice ceramic casserole dish with a leaf pattern on the outside that Elliot admired with a hint of envy, although I pointed out that he could use it any time he wanted.
“If I come to your apartment,” he commented, leaning on the kitchen island from where he was perched on one of the stools. I was sitting next to him.
I shrugged, keeping my eyes on the dish. I still wasn’t entirely certain that I was ready to officially move in with him, and I didn’t want to restart the argument now.
“Okay, this one,” he said, sliding me one of the other two boxes—the bigger one.
I couldn’t help the smile on my face when I opened it. “So this means you’re going to make me do more yard work?” I asked him, teasing.
He grinned back at me. “Yard, furniture, whatever. They’re steel-toed, steel-shanked, lined, all the good stuff.”
The high-ankle work boots were a warm brown, and I could see the quilting of the inner lining that looked thick and plush, but not like it would overheat my feet. They were nice, and they would keep me from wrecking my new hiking boots by wearing them for yard and construction work.
“Thanks, El,” I said, leaning forward to give him a kiss.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, beaming. Then he grabbed the other, smaller, box and handed it to me. “This one is from both me and Henry.”
I had no idea what they might give me—the only thing that sprang to mind was something to do with foxglove, but I really didn’t think that Elliot would make a joke out of that, or that Henry would either, for that matter. I pulled off the paper, then opened the lid and sucked in a breath.
Inside was a round, royal blue cabochon-style stone, set in silver shaped like a running wolf, its back arched around the curve of the stone, the other side showing the edge of the moon, its surface pitted to mimic the lunar craters.
The stone was set on a length of black leather, and I realized it was a bolo tie.
“El, this isgorgeous,” I breathed.
“Henry makes them, although the design was me.” He smiled shyly.
“It’s really amazing.” I lifted it gently out of the box, running my thumb over the blue stone.
“It’s sodalite,” he told me.
“It’s beautiful.” I smiled at him, still a little awed. “This might be the nicest thing anybody’s ever given me.” The boots mighthave been more expensive, technically speaking, depending on how much the silver had cost. Now if you factored in the cost of creative labor—what Henry had actuallydoneto make it and the skill of Elliot’s design—I was sure it cost far more than anybody would have ever paid for it, particularly in a society that devalued art and craftsmanship.
Elliot looked startled. “Seriously?”
I nodded with a shrug. “I’ve never had much,” I said softly. It was something of an understatement. My parents had believed in deprivation and asceticism. We weren’t given things that weren’t absolutely necessary. And then Noah and I had been homeless, shuffled through foster homes until we fell back on the charity of Hands and Paws. And once we’d gotten degrees and jobs, we’d at least been independent, but never rich. I’d personally never had the money for anything more luxurious than a meal at a restaurant or high-end ingredients from a specialty store. One nice suit for weddings or funerals.
Everything else was an essential—maybe nicer than the absolute base model of phone or computer, but nothing that was so cutting edge anyone in the middle class would be envious.
Until now, I’d owned two ties: one had been purchased on sale because I had to wear one to a funeral for a cop killed in the line of duty, and the other, with a bright, multicolored paisley pattern, had been bought for weddings.
I knew Elliot wasn’t rich, but he was comfortable. He owned his house outright—although I knew he would have traded that for his dad’s life in a heartbeat. He owned a business that made him enough money that he could not only pay his bills, but have some extra spending money, as well. Enough to buy me shoes. Good shoes. To feed me. To help me get my feet under me.
I wanted that. I didn’t envy him what he had—I didn’t wish it were mine instead of his—but I wanted for once in my life not to be worried about how I was going to afford the things Ineeded. Or to not feel obligated to someone else for the fact that I had them. It was the story of every relationship I’d ever had. Including this one, since I already owed him for putting me up for several weeksandfor buying me a really nice pair of hiking boots. And now tonight.
“Seth.” Elliot’s voice held a warning tone.
I blinked. “Um. Sorry. What?”
