“How’s that?”
“Last year, we were the ones to get her the mead-making course for her birthday.”
“Oh, yeah!”Chloechimed in from the end of the table. “That’strue!Soyou can blame them for any damageI’vedone.”
ButIdidn’t blame them.Iwas truly grateful. “Thankyou,”Isaid as earnestly asIcould.Amy’sface softened from teasing to appreciative, andIknew she could sense how muchImeant it.
Chloe looked over at me like she thoughtIwas joking at first, looking for the snide undertone that wasn’t there, then smiled gently when she realisedIwas being sincere.
The gifts were lovely.JackandMorganhad found a cute mushroom-shaped headphone stand for her gaming headset, andFatimagave her a new journal with glitter gel pens.AmyandPhiljoked thatIwas their present, andItried to hold back the way that made my stomach leap inside me, wishing she could keep me.ThatIcould keep her.IcaughtChloe’sgaze, andIknew she could see just how intenselyIfelt.Thankfullythey gave her an actual present, disrupting the tension: a beautiful, intricately carved wooden box, apparently just the right size for a tarot deck.
When it was my turn,Ifelt suddenly nervous.Ihadn’t put my gift on the table– the wrapping was part of it, andIhadn’t wanted to spoil it.SoIpulled it out of my backpack and passed it over.
“This is from me andWillow,”Isaid, my fingers grazing againstChloe’sasIhanded it off.
Chloe looked down at the little parcel, her mouth falling open.Sheran her fingers over the worn heather-grey of theT-shirt, tracing theNofNorthDakotaand the hole in the neckline.Theshirt of mine that she’d worn that day in the rain.Thefirst timeI’dknown for sure that there was something real between us.
She swallowed hard.
“Thank you,” she said, her voice low and gravelly. “Ilove it.”
I smiled. “That’snot all of it.It’spart of it, but it’s really just the wrapping.”
Chloe’s brow furrowed as she tugged at the string holding theT-shirt in place, then unrolled it carefully.Abrown hessian bag fell out onto the table, clattering as it made contact.Chloelooked up at me, joy all over her face.
“Oh,Iknow that sound,”Amysaid. “Dice!”
I suppressed my smile and just nodded.Chloepicked up the bag and opened it, pouring the contents out into her hand.
“Oh my god,” she gasped as she admired the single die, holding it between her fingers.Itwas made of polished wood, sealed with resin, with golden numbers on each surface.Sheturned theD20over in her hand, noticing the heart where the twenty should be.
“Where did you get this?”Amyasked, rolling the die on the table.Itmade an incredibly satisfying clatter, andAmysucked in a breath of air.Isat up a bit straighter as it landed with the heart face-up.
“I made it,”Isaid sheepishly. “Outof an old ageing barrel at the meadery.”
It had taken me days of whittling and sanding, not to mention ensuring the quirkI’dbuilt in actually worked, butI’dgotten there in the end.
Chloe’s gaze shot up to meet mine. “You’reshitting me.Youmade this?”
I laughed. “I’mno woodworking pro.Butdon’t worry, it’s coated in resin, so it shouldn’t need any maintenance orprotectionor anything.”
“It’s incredible,”Chloesaid quietly, not looking away from me, andIcould see in the downturn of her eyes, in the way she seemed to hover in her seat, that she wanted to come to me.Tohug me, maybe– or more.Andhonestly, part of me wanted her to.Butthat wasn’t whyI’dgiven her the present.WhyI’dendured multiple frustrations getting each straight edge just right.
No, the smile that spread across her face as she looked down on it had been why.AndI’dwhittle a thousand more if it meant bringing her that kind of joy.Makingher feel that loved and important.
“Well,”Fatimasaid, puncturing the moment, “the real question is, is it balanced?”
Chloe rolled the die again, and yet again the heart glinted up at her.
“’Fraid not,”Isaid as the others laughed, butChloewasn’t laughing with them.Shewas holding my gaze. “Iwouldn’t even know where to begin balancing it.”
I’d very intentionallynotbalanced it, of course, and no matter how many timesChloerolled it, it should always come up a critical success.Thatwas the whole point.Itwas the bestIcould give her– the best wayIcould think of to make sure she felt the force of my belief in her onceIwas gone.
From the look on her face, she understood.
* * *
After dinner,Igot up to use the toilet, andIwas both unsurprised and thrilled whenIheard the swish ofChloe’sskirt behind me in the hallway.
