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“No. I hurt myself,” Emil said. “He was so goddamn kind and sweet. I slept over, and he made me breakfast in the morning—and he can’t cook at all,” Emil said with a shattered laugh. “He gave me his number, but I never called.”
“Normally, I’d call you a dumbass,” she said, “but I think you were being smart. You’re kind of a mess, babes.”
Emil unlocked one of his arms to drag his hand down his face. “I know.”
“So what’s the deal? He show up here with a wife and kids?”
Emil smiled, shaking his head as he thought about Matty. He knew Renzo had siblings, but he hadn’t realized he was a caregiver for his brother. And he hadn’t realized just how awful Renzo’s ex had been. He’d seemed so…so put together. So capable of kindness and love in ways Emil wasn’t sure he ever would be.
“He brought his brother to see me. Really sweet guy.”
Dahlia’s eyes widened. “Oh. The short guy?”
Emil nodded. “Yeah. He told me he knows Santa isn’t real, but he wanted to make a Christmas wish for his brother.”
“Oh my God,” Dahlia groaned.
“Mhm.” Emil closed his eyes. “He wanted his brother to get a boyfriend for Christmas because his ex-husband was such a fucking terror that he’s been miserable and hurt ever since the divorce.”
“Oh. Well,” Dahlia said, flapping her arms. “Did you tell him you’d buy a ring?”
Emil shoved at her. “I’ve spent one night with this guy, and he kind of fucked my brains out, but I’m not ready for that.”
Dahlia softened. “I know. But…would it be awful to call him now?”
“I think it would be weird to call him after his brother said all that to me. I doubt he wanted me to know. He would have told me.”
“And he might have already if he’d had the chance to get to know you,” she pointed out.
“Stop being logical.”
Dahlia grinned. “I’m being logical because I love you and I want to see you happy. And maybe taking baby steps toward this guy isn’t the worst thing.”
Emil swallowed heavily. The thought was both terrifying and threatened to give him far too much hope for something he knew damn well he didn’t deserve. “What are we doing after this?”
“We?” Dahlia asked, then laughed. “Honey, I’m going home to drink a gallon of water and pray to the patron saint of lactose intolerance that I don’t have a messy stomach in the morning.” She went up onto her toes and kissed both of his cheeks. “And I’m not going to tell you what I think you need to do because you already know.”
He did. He just didn’t want to admit it. “Have a good night.”
She shot him a quick wave, then left the little Santa cottage, and after another minute, Emil followed her out. The crowd had thinned quite a bit, and Emil couldn’t hear nearly as many children as there had been before. The shops were all still open though, so he decided to peruse and see if he could find anything that would fit his friends.
He’d never really done the holiday present thing. Hell, he’d never remembered anyone’s birthdays before. He was occasionally invited to parties, but his entire adult life, he’d had a secretary who kept track of dates and bought from a list of pointless, meaningless, expensive items.
And no one ever said thank you because why would they when he never gave a shit.
That feeling was back. That heavy weight that made it hard to breathe when he realized the kind of person he’d been. Maybe not cruel—not deliberately—but he’d never been deserving of what he had now.
He was terrified to lose it but terrified to keep it because holding it close meant he had so much more to lose. When CPS swept in to take him from his mother and hand him over to his father, Emil had already been at rock bottom. The only thing lower would have been death. He didn’t know how to survive a fall from such a grand height.
And hell if he would have ever thought that being cared for was so much better than money, and power, and prestige.
He came to a stop near the little outdoor skating rink and stared across at the watch shop. There was a man working in the window at a small table, and it almost made him laugh. How could someone feel fulfilled that way? Granted, Emil had no idea where his life might have gone if he’d ever been allowed to choose for himself, so maybe he was being too quick to judge.
Stillness, simplicity, it was all so new for him. It was like learning a foreign, dead language.
“Do you skate?”
Emil damn near jumped out of his skin and turned his head at the familiar voice. Renzo was bundled up in a thick coat, a scarf, and a beanie crammed over his dark curls. His eyes were crinkled with his grin and looked huge behind his thick lenses.
