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Memories of the way he shuddered when my lips pressed on his pulse washed over me, making my core heat once again. He was still watching me, his focus intense and full of what I swore was interest. My heart sped up as I studied him.
“I had it put on an ornament, because as much as you love the market, it should be on your tree.” He turned to the tree then, breaking our connection.
“Thank you.” I pushed away the nervousness that had taken over tonight and took a deep breath to center myself. Then I opened the next present. This bundle was the smallest of the three, and it was featherlight. I unrolled the tissue carefully, and a small silver charm landed in my palm.
When the details came into focus, my throat closed up, and all I could do was stare.
After a long moment, he cleared his throat. “I won’t let Puff leave Boston, but he deserves a spot on your bracelet anyway.” His tone was light, like he was joking, but that didn’t take away from his thoughtfulness.
I lowered my head and blinked several times to stop my eyes from welling with tears.
He gently plucked the small silver bird out of my hand. “The guy at the store said it would be easy to get on.” He studied the small clasp, then eyed my wrist. “He left it open enough. Can I try?”
When he brushed his callused fingers over my arm, a shiver worked its way through me. With my arm held aloft, he attached the puffin charm, then examined his work, his breath dancing over my skin and causing another round of shivers. He tightened the ring clamp locking the silver bird on, and pulled back, but he didn’t let go of me.
“That should work, but if it doesn’t stay tight, he said I could bring it in to have it soldered on.”
By the time he released me, my heart was running a marathon in my chest, and I was at risk of passing out from a lack of oxygen.
“The last gift,” he said, “is more for a laugh, but it comes with a second part. Hannah’s been holding on to it all day, and she might lose her mind if I don’t let her post it to the Revs’ account before the night is over.”
That statement piqued my curiosity. Chris rarely had positive things to say about Hannah unless Puff was involved. Most of their interactions had to deal with press etiquette, and in that respect, she still drove him crazy. The rectangle left in the box looked like it could be a picture frame. Maybe it was a mockup of the logo for the new puffin exhibit.
He pulled out his phone and sent off a message.
Hit with another wave of anticipation, I tore through the tissue quickly, and at the sight that greeted me, I coughed out a laugh.
It was a framed photo of Chris and Puff. Puff stood on a tabletop, and Chris, dressed in his Revs jersey, rested one arm next to the small bird and one behind him. The Santa hats they were both sporting were what made the photo. Puff’s was embroidered with his name, while Chris’s saidDaddy.
Clutching the photo to my chest, I threw my head back and laughed far too loudly for almost ten p.m.
“Yeah, yeah. I knew you’d love that.” Chris shook his head. “But here.” He held out his phone.
I took it, trying to ignore the tingles that once again shot through me when our fingers brushed. On the screen was an Instagram post from the Boston Revs. The photo was identical to the one now on my lap, and it was accompanied by a caption.
Merry Christmas from all of us at Lang Field, especially Puff and Dragon. The two of them together are some kind of magic. To honor Boston’s new favorite bird and the avian community around the world, we’ve set up Blondie’s Birds, an organization dedicated to supporting the Boston Zoo’s bird exhibits. Check out our website or Christian Damiano’s bio for more information.
By the time I’d finished reading, I could barely see the words past the tears that had welled in my eyes. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I looked up at Chris.
He was wearing the softest smile. “I hate how sad it makes you when you can’t keep your birds. This way, although you may not get to add many more charms to your bracelet, the zoo will have plenty of room to house them.”
The tears finally crested my lashes as my heart exploded in my chest. “Thank you,” I choked out.
“Smile,” he whispered, gathering me up in a hug. “I like it better.” As if he really couldn’t stand it, he tickled my side lightly, causing me to giggle.
“You’re just so damn sweet.” I pulled back and whacked his chest. “My video feed seems totally lame now.”
“Hey.” He grabbed his tablet and clutched it to his chest. “Don’t knock my favorite gift.”
I rolled my eyes, then focused on the photo he’d given me again. My smile was back. It was impossible not to feel happy when looking at Chris and Puff in matching Santa hats.
Chris shifted on the couch beside me. “I should probably get going.”
It was late, and there was no reason for him to stay, but my heart plummeted anyway. As much as I wanted him to stay, I had no good reason to ask him to. Plus, his family was in town, and they were probably waiting for him. After a long moment where we watched one another but neither of us spoke, he stood and went for his coat. I was frozen to the spot, unable to tear my eyes off the picture of Puff and his daddy.
Then he was beside me again. “Merry Christmas, Avery.” He leaned down and kissed my cheek before stepping back.
I forced myself to my feet and walked him out. Once he was headed down the hall, I shut the door and wandered back to where I’d left my gifts. The white of the ornament contrasted with the brown tweed of my sofa, drawing my attention again. Gingerly, I lifted it by the loop through the top and inspected it again.
