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It wasn’t booby trapping that had him off balance—it was wondering whether he deserved the kindness.
“My gift for you is under the tree upstairs,” he said. A gold charm bracelet marking moments from their friendship.
“You can give it to me later. I can’t stay long, and I want to see you open yours. Go ahead,” she urged.
He peeled back the gift wrap. It was an antique wood statue of Babbo Natale. The colors were fading, but the carving itself was flawless.
“I found it in a shop outside the city. The owner thought he was handmade around the turn of the century. Silly, I know, but what else do you get the guy who has everything? You’ve already got plenty of ties,” she added with a self-conscious laugh.
“Don’t apologize,” Armando told her. “It’s beautiful. Truly handcrafted pieces are hard to find.”
“When I saw him, I thought he looked a little like you do when you’re wearing the costume. Around the eyes.”
He turned the statue over in his hands. “I’ll take your word for it.” It didn’t matter if the statue resembled him or the queen of England. She could have given him a paper doll and he would have treasured the piece. Because it came from her.
He longed to pull her into a hug. “Thank you. I love it.” And you.
“I...” All of a sudden, she stopped talking and pivoted abruptly so she stood with her back turned to him. Something was definitely wrong, he thought, his shoulders stiffening. “I thought it would make a good memory to share with your child,” she continued. “About those times you played Santa Claus at the shelter.”
“You talk as if I won’t be there anymore.” That was never going to happen. The shelter and its mission were too important to him. More so now that he knew her story.
“Not you,” Rosa replied, her back still turned. “Me.”
Her? Armando’s stomach dropped. “What are you talking about?”
When she didn’t reply right away, he reached for her shoulder. To hell with not touching her. “What do you mean, you?”
“I-I’m leaving.”
No. She couldn’t be. Armando’s hand fell away short of its goal. “You’re not going to be my assistant anymore?”
“I can’t.” Finally, she turned around. When he saw her face, Armando almost wished he hadn’t. Her eyes were damp and shining. “I can’t come to work every day and see you. It’s too dangerous.”
“I don’t understand.” His mind was too stuck on her resignation to make sense of anything else. “Dangerous for whom?”
“Me,” she replied.
She started to pace. Rosa being the one to mark paths on the carpeting for a change would be amusing if the circumstances were different. “I thought about what you said last night, about my deserving better,” she said.
“You do. You deserve—”
She cut him off. “I know. Surprisingly. Fredo convinced me I would never deserve better than dirt, and for a long time I believed it.”
He watched as a tear dripped down her cheek. “Then you said you loved me. Loved. And I started thinking, if a man like you thinks he loves me...”
“I do love you,” he said, rushing toward her.
“Don’t.” With her hands in front of her chest, she shook her head. “This is why I have to quit.”
“You don’t want to be near me.”
“Don’t you understand? I want to be near you too much. You’re marrying someone else, ’Mando.
“And I get it,” she said when he opened his mouth to tell her she was—she would always be—his first choice. “I understand the responsibility you feel toward your country, and why you need to keep your word. I love your sense of honor.
“But if I stay, I’ll be tempted to be with you no matter what the circumstances, and I can’t be the woman you love on the side. I worked too hard on being myself again.”
She was shaking by the time she finished. With tears staining her cheeks. It killed him to stand there when every fiber of his being wanted to steal her away to a place where they could be together. It killed him, but he knew it was what Rosa wanted. Just as he knew he couldn’t fight her leaving.
“What will I do without you?” he asked instead.
“You survived without me for years, ’Mando. I’m sure you’ll survive again.” Armando hated to think the last smile he’d see on her face would be this sad facsimile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“Where will you go? What will you do?”
“I don’t know yet. Right now, I’m going to focus on celebrating Christmas. I’ll figure out the rest tomorrow.”
