“I didn’t know you were here,” I said when she grabbed my free hand.
The older woman beamed at me, her caramel cheeks flushing. “Oh, I know. I’m out past my bedtime, but I had to see about Chris and give him his gifts. You know he likes to duck and dodge,” she whispered with a laugh that made me giggle. “I see you brought champagne. Good. I was telling him he needs to do a better job celebrating himself, so I’m glad you?—”
A deep voice clearing broke up our catch-up session and Monica turned loving eyes on her only son.
“Oh, I can take a hint.”
Christian may have been her spitting image, but while he used his words sparingly, this woman could talk a mile a minute without coming up for air. She and my mother shared that talent.
She squeezed my hand again before looking me up and down. “I’m happy you’re home, sweetie. Christian sure does miss you when you’re gone. You gone stay around for a while?”
“I’m working on?—”
“Ma, isn’t dad waiting for you in the car?”
Monica tossed a mock chastised look over her shoulder and finally stepped around me to get to the open door. “Fine. Enjoy your day, sweetheart. And congrats again. I love you.”
“I love you too,” Christian said reverently.
When the door closed behind her, I held up the bottle but paused when I saw the basket on his desk.
There was a charcuterie board, a fake succulent, wine glasses, candles, soaps and a dish towel arranged so a peek of each item was on display.
The smile on my face faltered. “What’s that?” And why did the card say congrats instead of happy birthday?
Christian’s palm found his beard as he stared at me. “It’s a part of my housewarming gift.”
Housewarming.
The word echoed in my tipsy head before it stuck. “Your condo is ready?”
He bit his lip, giving me a subtle nod. “Yeah.”
“Since when?”
“Since a week ago.”
“I—” I had to close my mouth, or I’d be catching flies. Eventually, the lump in my throat passed. “Congrats?”
Why did it sound like a question? Maybe because he didn’t seem too happy about it. He’d been off all week. Why hadn’t he told us so we could help him pack and move?
“You weren’t going to tell us?” I set the champagne near the basket.
“I was.” He sounded more defensive than convincing, making me cock my brow.
“When?”
“I don’t know.”
I met him on the other side of his desk and wrapped my arms around his waist to peer up at him. “This is big, baby. I thought you’d be happy.” I searched his face, hoping to find a glimpse of what he wasn’t saying, but I came up empty. “What aren’t you telling me?”
After a silent minute, he sat down in his leather chair, taking me with him. Large hands anchored at my waist, he walked me through his hesitation.
“Oh, baby.” Cupping the side of his face, I lowered my forehead to his and kissed him. “You’re moving across the island. Notaway,” I reminded him.
“That’s what it feels like.”
“I hear you.” I grabbed his face between my hands and smiled down at him softly. Christian liked safety, whatever form that took. None of us had to say it, but Rico’s house felt like home. For all of us. Now he felt like he was moving to the sidelines.
