Wren
Presents from Santa are even more extravagant and thoughtful than presents between the family. It seems like only Blair and Gerald were supposed to supply the gifts from Santa, but both Sloane and Luca have snuck their own additions into the pile.
For Blair, a fancy espresso machine that I’m pretty sure costs more than two grand. And for Gerald from his kids, a new set of golf clubs and a rain shield for his golf cart.
Luca sits in the armchair this time, and I’m the one propped up on the arm of the chair, just waiting for Gerald or Blair to tell me not to sit like this. Nobody does.
But I’m enjoying watching them open their gifts—and trying hard to keep my brain from wandering back to what was happening just twelve hours ago in the basement—until Luca clears his throat and turns, pressing something into my hands.
A little box, wrapped in gold. I look at it, then at him, and his mother gasps.
“Luca,” she says, and when I glance at her, I realize what she thinks.
“Oh, please, Mom,” Sloane says, hitting her mom gently on the arm. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
I know, logically, that there’s no way a wedding ring is inside this box. But it doesn’t stop my heart from pounding dangerously hard.
“I amnotproposing,” Luca laughs nervously. “Don’t you think that would be a little premature, Mom?”
“Don’t make fun of me,” she says, pointing at him. “I was just looking for a little Christmas magic.”
It does something to me, the knowledge that Blair likes me at least enough to be happily surprised by a proposal rather than concerned for her son. Or already fighting the notion.
And here I am, not a real girlfriend at all. The tiny rolling ball of guilt inside me gains just a little more weight, sitting heavier at the top of my throat.
Swallowing, I tug on the end of the bow, eyes falling on Luca. “I feel bad,” I whisper, voice thick as I hold his gaze. “I didn’t bring something for you.”
What I mean is that I didn’t get him anything at all. Through the month, I’d seen things I thought would make a nice gift, but I knew it would be weird to give him something.
Or, at least, I thought it would be weird to give him something.
When I open the box, it’s not a ring or jewelry at all, but two old-fashioned looking tickets to something. I pick them up, turn them over, then glance back at Luca, hoping it’s not too obvious that I’m confused.
“It’s uh—” He stops, clearing his throat and bringing his hand to the back of his head, before raising his eyes to mine again. “That chef, from Los Angeles? He’s going to be in town, I guess, and he’s doing a little series on this lake front cruise thing. So I thought we could go—”
“Wait.” I drop the tickets, grab his wrist, pull on it in my excitement. “That steak—the wagyu?Thisis that guy? With the strawberries?”
“Yeah,” Luca laughs, and something—something I can’t pinpoint—opens up behind his face. Like he thought I wouldn’tremember our first date, the one that literally happened just a few weeks ago. Like he thought I would forget the best damn meal of my life.
Part of it is theatrics, but part of it is genuine happiness at the idea of getting to have food like that again. I throw my arms around his neck and pull him close, so I practically topple over into his lap.
“This is amazing,” I say, knowing I’m too loud in his ear.
Tentatively, he brings his hand to my back. “Really?”
“Yeah,” I whisper, a little quieter. Thankfully, when I pull myself back from him and resituate, Callum is already opening a gift, all eyes turned to him.
Except for Blair, who’s staring at Luca and me with a watery expression on her face. I swallow down the emotion rising in my throat and watch Callum unwrap a scarf with what is—apparently—his family crest.
“Very cool,” he says, smiling at Blair and Gerald. “Thank you, guys.”
Present-opening goes on.
And Luca keeps his hand on my back the entire time.
***
“Wren!”
