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I popped a single eye open again. She sat closer to me, cross-legged, and stared at me.
“It’s not Christmas yet,” I said.
She released an embarrassed chuckle. The sound loosened my joints in that satisfying way of knowing I was the reason for her laughter.
My shoulders relaxed. Aside from the connection we’d shared during our dance at Gabby and Adrian’s reception, this was the closest she’d let me get to her.
“Before my mom died, we all got together on Christmas Eve for a big dinner with my grandparents,” she said. “My grandma still invites us over, though my dad and stepfamily don’t come. I have to work on Christmas this year, but I’ll probably do something with my grandma anyway?—”
This was definitely distracting—she was opening up to me. Really and truly opening up, in a way I’d wanted her to do since we met.
I opened both eyes to find her fiddling with the buttons on her gray, wool coat.
Tentatively, I placed my hand on her back. I expected her to recoil or withdraw, but she didn’t.
“I didn’t know your mom died,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
She slid me a glance and a small smile with it. “Thanks. It was a few years ago.”
“How did she die?”
Her throat worked against a swallow. “She got cancer.”
“That’s too bad.” I sat up, readjusting myself.
I wanted to take her face in my hands. I wanted to hold her, to smooth away the sorrow I heard in her voice.
She lifted her face to meet my gaze. “It’s okay. I mean, it’s not, but it is.”
I lifted my hand to her cheek and brushed my thumb there. Her eyes widened, but she didn’t pull away.
“Sounds like you’re the one who needs a distraction now. You said you’re working on Christmas? We’re closed through the holidays. Which department do you work for?”
Wariness flashed in her gaze. She scooted back, away from me, forcing me to withdraw my hand.
“I—”
I tried to think of something to remedy the situation. It was clear she didn’t want me prying. She’d been letting her guard down though, and I’d wanted to take what I could get, to let her know I was someone she could trust.
Before I could think of something to say, my phone beeped. Here I’d been antsy to hear from Clary, and now I cursed the interruption.
Reluctantly, I answered.
“Hey, Clary. Any news?”
Ella readjusted to kneel on her knees. She rested her hands on her legs and watched me expectantly.
Whether she realized it or not, her knee brushed my ankle. I was so absorbed in Ella, in the sway of her hair, the shape of her mouth, in what it would be like to press mine to it, I nearly missed Clary’s reply.
“They should be fixing it now, sir.”
Relief stole over me. Though I didn’t want this moment with Ella to end, I was more than eager to get out of this box.
“That’s great news. Thanks, Clary.”
I lowered my phone to relay the update to Ella when a male voice broke through the elevator’s intercom.
“Mr. Danielson?”
