“It changed something in Mom. I deferred Columbia for a year because I knew she needed me.”
I laid my free hand on his other arm, hoping to soothe him. I’d had no idea, despite my research into him. Digital data was never a good resource to understand a person’s true core. “Oh, Gage, I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what that was like.”
He looked away from me, glancing down at the cat carrier. Mr. Whiskerbottom Fuzzypants wasn’t watching the tree lot. He was staring at Gage as if he, too, were listening and was moved by the story.
“It got better,” Gage said, talking faster, powering through it. “Mom turned a corner. The next year, Will came home for the summer, and at the end of it, we both packed up and went off to Columbia. Mom went back to teaching, and life moved on.”
My throat tightened, and I couldn’t offer any encouraging words.
He blinked until his eyes were clear, then squeezed my hand. “It’s okay, Kat. I’m fine. We’re all fine. We’re happy now.”
He had moved on and built a good life. But he’d grown up loving animals and still loved them, which was so obvious in the care he took with my foster boy, yet he couldn’t risk having one of his own because loving animals would forever be tied to loving—and losing—his dad. He might be fine, but he was at least a little lonely. I knew because I recognized all the signs in myself, after years of living half a world away from my family and old friends.
I pressed my free hand to the side of Gage’s face. “It’s okay if you’re not fine.” When another wave of emotion welled up in me, I pulled slightly away from him. We both needed the space. I also couldn’t stop thinking about his dad’s theory of animals in need. I pressed my fingertips to the bubble of Mr. Whiskerbottom Fuzzypants’s carrier. “Do you believe your dad’s theory that animals who need someone sometimes choose their own person?”
“I do, 100 percent.”
He was about to say more, but someone shouted.
“Hey, that’s an employees-only area.” A burly man in a bulky black jacket and a bright red apron barreled toward us.
“Sorry,” Gage said. “We were just taking a break before looking at more trees.” He took my hand and pulled me to my feet as he stood. “And I think I know just the aisle for you,” he told me.
When he reached for the cat carrier, I intercepted his hand and shook my head at him. Maybe Mr. Whiskerbottom Fuzzypants had chosen me as his foster mom, which was probably terrible judgment on his part. But if he trusted me, I would do everything I could for him for as long as I could. I strapped him onto my back and tried to ignore the pleased look on Gage’s face as if he knew something about my cat and me that I didn’t.
I took Gage’s arm and let him lead me to the aisle he’d selected. His step was lighter, and his smile was easier. I liked to think it was because I’d let him unburden himself. Almost immediately after turning down the aisle, he stopped and pulled out a Douglas fir.
“Dad always said you can’t go wrong with a Douglas fir.” He smiled wistfully. “I’d forgotten that.”
“Hm.” Maybe his dad was right, but this tree wasn’t the one. “Too short. Maybe the one behind it.”
We tried three more trees from that rack. Two were too short, and the third had a large hole in one spot. I sighed. “I forgot how hard it is to find the perfect tree. For the past five years, my parents came to visit me in different cities in Europe, and we stayed at nice hotels that put up beautiful trees in their lobbies.”
“Are your parents coming here this year?”
I nodded. “We talked about me flying home, but now…” I pointed to the cat carrier.
“We’ll keep looking until we find the perfect tree for your first Christmas in New York.”
I linked my arm with his again as we walked down the next aisle of trees. The closeness felt effortless. “Despite sometimes getting yourself in trouble by being a smartass, you’re a good guy, 6A.”
“I know, I know.” He sighed dramatically. “Forever a white knight.”
“I was thinking more of a good neighbor. And in the spirit of neighborliness, I was also thinking about your wedding date dilemma.”
He kept his eyes straight ahead and didn’t even glance at me, but I could see he was holding his breath.
“I’ve always wanted to see The Plaza at Christmas, so this could be a win-win.”
He let out his breath and turned to face me. “Win-win, huh?”
He grinned, and then I grinned, and we stood there staring at each other. God, I wanted to kiss him. The lack of motion woke Mr. Whiskerbottom Fuzzypants, who let out a long, sad yowl, ruining the moment.
“We better keep moving so he can get his sleep,” I said.
We walked on, this time more slowly.
“To be clear,” Gage said, “did you just ask me on a date to the wedding I’m attending?”
