CHAPTER 25
EMILY
If being an elf in Santa’s Village had taught me anything, it was that I was not made for customer-facing work and that men were, on the whole, deeply strange. Not that the second revelation was new, but the elf fascination certainly added fresh and unwanted layers.
I spent Christmas alone in my apartment, but not in a tragic or self-pitying way. There was no weeping over lost love or dramatic staring out of windows, just an aggressive amount of self-care, a murder documentary marathon, and enough sugar to qualify as a slow-moving medical event.
Two full days of cocooning had done me good.
And today, finally, I was going to the mall to order Sophie’s cane. I had avoided her a little over the holidays, pretending to be busy. Which, to be fair, wasn’t exactly a lie, I just wasn’t busy in the fun way we had both hoped for. The real problem was that I had a very hard time lying to my sister.
When I opened the building door, he was there.
Standing in the snow as if he had stepped out of a brooding fantasy, dressed all in black, cashmere coat immaculate, cane in hand, face carrying an expression so uncharacteristically sheepish that it threw me for half a second.
I stumbled in surprise, caught myself almost immediately, and came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs.
“I wasn’t sure I’d be welcome,” he said quietly. “So I thought it best to wait here.”
I pursed my lips. “You seem to do a great deal of thinking where we’re concerned. In this particular instance, you’re correct. I have to go.”
I started walking.
I had just passed him when he spoke again.
“He’s gone.”
I stopped without turning.
I didn’t bother asking who. I knew. And once again, guilt or sadness refused to appear where they probably should have. I made a mental note to question my morality later, likely in bed, and with far more dramatic flair than strictly necessary.
“Ah,” I said. “I hope Matteo enjoyed himself.”
“If I had known he was coming to see you?—”
I turned then, because that at least deserved my full attention.
“What do you want, Pietro?”
“I spoke to Sophie,” he said. “Her cane is in production. She led me to believe you were getting her one too.” He added quickly, “I didn’t tell her anything.”
He didn’t need to. If Sophie had caught the faintest scent of a breakup, she would have blown up my phone.
“I’m on my way to pay for it now,” I said, tightening my grip on my bag.
He straightened slightly. “I made a promise.”
That one almost made me laugh.
“No offense, but I don’t put much value in your promises anymore.”
He flinched.
Good.
I looked down at my watch, not even really seeing the time. “I have to go.”
“I’d like to talk to you,” he said. “Please. Can you spare me a minute?”
