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He gestured with his cocktail glass to the corner of the room where a flat, square gift was peeking from behind the cadenza, wrapped in black paper with a blood red bow.
“Ambri, goddammit. You’ve done too much already. And wemade a deal.”
“Please. As if you haven’t broken the oath yourself.”
I started to protest then laughed instead. “How did you know?”
He grinned. “I didn’t. You just told me.”
“Asshole!” I chucked him on the arm. “Fine, you caught me. But it’s not going to be as nice as whatever that is. Just a warning.”
“I’m certain it will be a very Cole Matheson gift,” he murmured into his glass. “Thoughtful and perfect.”
The cater waiters finished setting up. Ambri paid them and then gestured for me to sit at the table that was laden with turkey and stuffing, warm bread, green beans almondine, roasted potatoes, and Christmas pudding.
“Shall we?”
“We’re going to have a dinner you can’t taste?”
“Consider it a last supper, of sorts.”
I glanced up. “What the hell does that mean?”
Ambri shrugged and poured the wine. “I’m being facetious. And blasphemous. A little devil humor. Stop overthinking, Cole, and eat.”
Reluctantly, I let it go—the scents and warmth of the food were making my heart heavy.
“What troubles you now?” Ambri demanded. “Is this not good?”
“It’s perfect,” I said. “I was just thinking of my grandmother and the Christmases we had when I was a kid. She’d cook a big feast too. But it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything for the holiday. I was always alone at the Academy, using the time off to catch up on work.”
Ambri’s frown deepened. “You’re smiling, yet your eyes are wet with tears. I don’t understand.”
I wiped my eyes from under my glasses. “That’s grief, for you. If you give it time, it changes until it’s not just sadness anymore. The sorrow and pain are still there, but there’s gratitude too.”
“Gratitude?”
I nodded. “It hurts. It hurts a lot, but you wouldn’t be feeling that pain if that person never existed for you to love them in the first place. The love makes the hurt beautiful.” I smiled at the memory of her. “I miss my grandmother but I’m grateful for the time I had with her.”
“Demons do not traffic in grief,” Ambri said softly, after a moment. “That’s strictly the angels’ domain. Now I understand why.”
I take a shaky breath. “Sorry, I got a little carried away… Actually no, I’m not sorry. Remembering my grandmother, and missing her, and wishing she was here, isn’t something I should ever be sorry for.”
Ambri stared at me for long moments, likely with the same expression I’d given him when he was holding himself unnaturally still—like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Okay, I’m done.” I laughed and waved a hand. “We can eat.”
We dug into the food that was anything but bland. Ambri didn’t complain either, though the two of us couldn’t put a dent in the sheer amount. We drank rich red wine and talked and laughed—mostlyIlaughed at Ambri’s cleverness; his mind was sharpened to a keen edge. By the end of the meal, I felt as warm and full of being with him as I was of the dinner.
“We’ll have leftovers for days,” I said and started to clear the table. “Which reminds me, I need tomorrow off.”
“What for?”
“It’s a holiday for one thing,taskmaster. Every Christmas Day, I volunteer at the Passage House on Longmoore, serving meals to the unhoused.”
Ambri rolled his head back to stare at the ceiling. “You have got to be bloody kidding me.”
I chuckled. “It’s not a big deal. Having no place to go these last few years, it’s a good way to spend the time. The best way, actually. Do you want to—?”
