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“I’m leaving.”
I froze in the act of stacking plates. He’d said it so simply, I nearly missed it. “You’re what?”
“Leaving,” Ambri said. “London, the UK…this entire bloody island.”
I nearly went dizzy at how fast my heart dropped to the floor. “When?Why?”
“Soon. And I have my reasons,” he said, looking into his wine glass. “I have other flats to attend to in other cities. Otherworldly duties I’ve neglected.” He flinched at my expression. “Don’t look at me like that. You knew perfectly well this commission wouldn’t last forever.”
“Yeah, I did,” I said, struggling to find my voice. “But…the portrait isn’t even finished yet.”
“You’ll have to paint me as you do the demon images. From memory.”
“Ambri…”
“Fear not, you may stay here as long as you need. Until your gallery show at least, longer if necessary. I have no doubt you will be a smashing success and the entire world will open its doors to you, Cole.”
“I don’t get it,” I said, wishing my desperation wasn’t so damn obvious. “This portrait seemed like it meant a lot to you.”
“Perhaps, at one time. Things change.” He rose to his feet and headed to the cocktail table. “Leave the mess. I’ll have someone clean up tomorrow. Come and open your gift.”
I gaped, a turmoil of emotions cycling through me—anger, hurt, and fear at the thought of never seeing Ambri again. And that he could walk away from me so easily.
“Sure,” I spat. “Let’s open gifts and sing carols and roast fucking chestnuts and keep right on doing what we’ve been doing for weeks.Pretending.”
“Don’t be bitter, Cole,” Ambri said, not taking the bait. “Doesn’t suit you.”
I stared for a moment, but his back to me was a wall. Not knowing what else to do, I strode to my room. I yanked open the nightstand drawer and pulled out my gift for him, wrapped in green and red. I sucked in air to calm down, but the pain that gripped my heart was breathtaking. I’d stupidly created a future that didn’t exist. It crumbled before my eyes in the same instant I realized how vast I’d built it.
I hadn’t known, until Ambri was leaving, how badly I wanted him to stay.
You’re an idiot. He is who he is. You can paint ‘the light’ you think you see a thousand times, but that won’t make him human.
I glanced at the gift in my hand. I’d been at Foster Books, perusing old titles to add to Ambri’s collection. None jumped out and I nearly left but decided to try one more aisle. And then I found it. A rare, second-edition print ofThe Adventures of Pinocchioby Carlo Collodi. As if some instinct had guided me toward it. At the time, I’d thought it a benevolent sign from the universe. Now…
“The universe is a fucking prick.”
I mustered my dignity. It was my fault, after all. I’d kept myself protected for three years and then threw it all away over a handsome face, a quick wit, and…
He’s leaving.
I braced myself against the door. “Fuck.”
In the living room, Ambri sat on the couch, his gift for me resting beside him. It was about the size of a picture book but flatter.
I handed him his gift. “Here.”
“There’s the Christmas spirit,” Ambri said wryly. “Sit. Don’t be abah humbug.”
“That’s not how it… Never mind.”
I sat next to him on the couch and watched as he unwrapped his gift. He set the paper aside and ran his fingers along the book’s cover. “A child’s fairy tale.”
“Fairy tales resonate for a reason. This one is about a wooden boy—”
“I know what it’s about,” he said quietly. He held it carefully for a few moments, as if it were fragile or precious. Then he set it aside without turning the pages. “Thank you, Cole.”
It was my turn. The last thing I wanted was to take something else from him, but I carefully unwrapped his gift. When the paper had fallen away, a breath stuck in my chest.
