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In the corner of the living room, my lit Christmas tree greeted us. While Chris’s tree was neatly decorated with gold balls and white lights, mine was a chaotic mix of ornaments from places I’d been and ornaments my parents had given me throughout the years. The lights changed color every few seconds because it was impossible to choose just one.
Our trees were surprisingly representative of the differences between us. But I liked the contrast. Did he?
As always, he helped me with my coat. I hadn’t thought much of the gesture before now, but as he slid my puffy jacket onto a hanger, then draped his much bigger black coat over it, warmth spread through me, and a pleasant buzz started, like I’d had a beer or two and was feeling relaxed.
“You okay?” He frowned at me in concern.
Probably because I was standing in the middle of my small entryway, staring at him like I was shocked he was here.
Good golly, we were friends, and he was here all the time. Why was I acting weird?
“I’m good.” With a shake of my head, I moved to the tree and picked up the bag I’d put under it for him.
When I turned around, he was already settled on the couch with one arm slung over the back and my gift on the cushion beside him.
He chuckled. “How did you find a Christmas bag with Puff on it?”
“Oh, I’ll never give away my secrets,” I joked, dropping onto the couch and holding it out to him. But Amazon made it stupidly easy. One search for a puffin gift bag, and I had my pick of twelve.
With a roll of his eyes, he snagged it from my hands. Then he was pulling the red tissue out of the bag like he was a kid again. When he peered inside, his brows pulled low. “What…?” He lifted the white tablet out and looked at me, wearing a confused frown.
“Turn it on,” I prompted with a nod.
Chris set the bag on the floor by his feet. Then he pushed the button. It lit up, and there on the screen was a live feed of the habitat in quarantine that currently housed Boston Zoo’s ten puffins. It would be their home until next month, when the addition to the penguin area would be complete.
His lips parted, and a harsh breath escaped him. “So I can watch him from wherever.”
“Maybe it’s dumb.” I picked at an invisible speck on my leggings, suddenly rethinking my gift idea.
I had a couple of these devices so I could check on the animals remotely when I had concerns. And Chris had been complaining about not seeing Puff as much as he’d like. Once the season started, it would only get harder for him.
Chris was still staring at the screen as Puff walked along the rock and half jumped, half fell into the water.
He broke out into a smile bigger than I thought he was capable of, and my heart almost leaped right out of my chest.
“It’s not dumb at all. I love it.” He squeezed my leg, and a zap of electricity coursed through me. “Look. He’s doing that swim flip thing he loves.”
Finally, he tore his attention from the screen and propped it on the coffee table in front of us.
Sliding his gift off the couch, he let out a low hum. “I didn’t even think about finding a cool bag like yours. And honestly, it looked better when I first wrapped it.” Frowning, he took in the uneven side, the crinkled red and white paper, and the weird corner, like he was noticing it for the first time. Then he held it out to me. “Hopefully it’s the thought that counts.”
I took it from him, immediately noticing that it was too heavy to be clothes, even though the box was the right size. For a minute, I thought it might be his jersey. He’d teased me endlessly about wearing a jersey that was older than most people’s cars. But it was Dad’s, so I wasn’t getting rid of it.
Inside the box sat two small bundles wrapped in white tissue, along with a larger one.
“Do this one first.” He pointed to one of the smaller gifts and hit me with a grin that made my core flare with heat and throb in a way I’d never experienced before.
Was it the red lights of the Christmas tree, or had the man always been this freaking hot? He ran his hand over his chiseled jaw as he studied me, which I’d discovered months ago meant he was nervous. Did he feel the electricity humming between us tonight too?
When I still hadn’t moved, he lifted the squarish gift, and when he placed it in my palm and our fingers brushed, the tingling throb quickened. Our eyes met, and for a split second, I swore desire burned in those deep brown irises. Before I could confirm it, though, he dropped his focus to the bundle in my hand and cleared his throat.
“Are you afraid to open it, Blondie?” he asked, his tone teasing and his expression once again full of tempered contentment like it had been all day. Maybe I was reading too much into this.
Swallowing down the butterflies still swarming, I pulled the tissue back. Inside was a white porcelain oval. Chris flipped it over and set it in my hands again. And when he pulled back, I was looking at a scene from the Christmas market. The ornament had been painted with renderings of Roxy’s food truck and the Chowda stand. The hut wherewe’d ordered spiked cocoa was there too, and so was the fireplace we’d sat near to stay warm.
“How?” When I looked up, he was fixated on my face and wearing the smallest smile.
“I sent my sister a picture that night, and she painted this.” He swallowed thickly, the move drawing my attention to the column of his throat.
