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“You walked in on an epic failure,” I say, ignoring the question I can’t answer, at least not aloud. “I’m not much of a cook, but I wanted to make tonight nice—for you.”
“For me?” Surprise widens her eyes as she takes a seat on the stool across from me and my butchered turkey.
“Yeah.” I nod. “Thanksgiving is a special holiday, and I know you’ve never really had anyone to celebrate with. If you weren’t here, given our lack of staff, I’d settle for a frozen pizza, a bottle of Bordeaux, and a night of card games with Gio, Sophia, and Cass. But you are here, so I’m, um, trying to make the best of what the chef left.”
Now it is Ariana who is transfixed and speechless. Perhaps she is confused by my gesture. Perhaps the holidays make her miss her mom even more. Maybe celebrating is the last thing she wants to do. Unable to deal with the silence any longer, I ask her, “What’s that look?” Hopefully she’ll be more forthcoming than I was. She lowers her eyes then.
“I guess surprise, gratitude, appreciation,” she whispers, refusing to look at me. “Though, I am wondering where you’re going with this,” she says as she shifts her attention from her fidgeting fingers to the bird between us.Shit.I was hoping she hadn’t noticed. Guess I can’t get much past her.
I lean forward as I massage the tension from my neck. “Well, I, um…was thinking I’d cut it up and cook it somehow.”
“Somehow?” At that, I bring my eyes back to Ariana to find her brow cocked and a slightest rosiness to her cheeks. Now that’s a look I’m familiar with, one filled with sarcasm. “You have no idea what you’re doing, do you?”
“Not in the slightest.”
Ariana nods and hops off her stool. She glides around the island through the beams of the setting sun, and as she comes to stand beside me, she appears to glow. The only thing that can make her more beautiful is the sun itself, bouncing off her dress and chestnut locks as she absorbs all its light and warmth. The very first night we met, I called her a fallen angel. Perhaps she was. But tonight…tonight she isn’t fallen at all. She’s just…an angel.
As the spilled chicken stock and wilted vegetables come into view, Ariana nods and crosses her arms over her chest. “I was wondering what that smell was. I’d say this is a cry for help if I ever saw one. First things first, that needs to be cleaned. Then, I need a casserole dish, butter and spices, and for the love of God, potholders,” she says, noticing the bright red skin on my palms. She takes my hands in hers, assessing my wounds, and a waft of sweet cinnamon and caramel moves with her. I inhale it to keep my mind off her gentle touch and all the things it makes me feel.
“Well, now I feel bad,” she says.
“Why?”
“I can’t exactly boss you around if you’re hurt. I was so looking forward to that.” At that, we both laugh.
“My sweet Ariana, I’ve endured a lot worse than this. Boss me around all you like. For tonight, and tonight only, I’m all yours.”
* * *
Somehow Ariana founda way to salvage dinner. She made baked turkey with mashed potatoes and roasted vegetables. She moved around the kitchen with ease once I found all the things she needed. In all my life I’ve never spent so much time in the kitchen. But it was nice to watch her, to see her in an environment she’s comfortable with and yet not in combat. Now, she sits snuggled up in one of the chairs in the living room with a blanket draped over her legs as she sips a glass of wine. She fits so perfectly into the simplest parts of my life, my home. It’s the other parts, the darker parts, I want to keep her away from.
Gio ignites the fireplace and pops on the record player, prompting Sophia to drag Cassio from his place on the couch to the center of the room. He pretends to protest but obliges my sister’s request for a dance with a smile all the same. If only it could be like this all the time—simple, normal, happy. Then maybe Ariana could stay. Then maybe I could admit that I want her to. Gio joins me by the fireplace. He doesn’t say a word but gives me a look I can read like a book. I glance at my watch. It’s half till midnight. Only thirty minutes left to make the most of my one and only holiday with Ariana.
Do I test my self-control and ask her to dance? What if she sees straight through me and realizes the real reason why I asked her to stay all those days ago? It wasn’t the storm or even our upcoming trip to Boston. I wanted her to stay because I want her. I want to be in her presence, to bask in her light. I know our time is limited. If we survive tomorrow, there will still a come day when the truth of her mother’s past is revealed. She’ll get what she came for and she’ll leave my life forever. I want to make the most of our short time together, but she can’t know that. For so many reasons, she can’t know. And yet, as her eyes find mine, I can’t stop my feet from moving toward her.
As I reach her, I extend my hand. “Would you like to dance?”
Ariana hesitates before standing. She downs the rest of her wine and places her hand in mine. I lead her to the center of the room, ignoring the weight of Gio’s and Sophia’s eyes on me. Using my free hand, I guide hers to my shoulder. As my fingers graze her soft skin, the ember inside me explodes, setting my entire body ablaze with tender excitement. Ariana grabs hold of my shoulder, and I move my hand to her lower back. It’s a formal position with minimal touching, unlike my sister and Cass. And yet, where our bodies do connect, there is an electric warmth that makes me feel alive in a way I don’t think I’ve ever felt.
My eyes lock with hers and I take a step back. Ariana stumbles forward, stepping on my toe and bumping into my chest. “Oh my God. I’m sorry. I’ve never really danced before.”
“It’s okay.” I laugh. I bring my hand to her blushing cheek and tilt her face to where I can see her. “I’ll teach you.” And I do. Ariana is a fast learner. Soon enough we’re dancing all around the living room, quick, slow, and then barely moving at all, yet we don’t let go of one another. We’ve only grown closer.
“So, when were you going to tell me that you’ve been suspended from the bureau?”
Her eyes narrow, though she doesn’t ask for an explanation of how I discovered her little secret. Good. She’s smart enough to know she shouldn’t want one. “When it was necessary. Turns out, it never was,” she says.
I nod, tightening my grip around her waist as I know I’ve got only a few more minutes before the magic between us breaks. “Whydidn’t you tell me?”
Ariana huffs and looks from my shoulder to my face. She’s reading me, asking herself if she can tell me the truth. She still doesn’t trust me, at least not fully. I suppose I can’t blame her. Finally, she says, “I didn’t tell you because I thought you may not treat me with the same respect you would another agent who’s still in the good graces of the bureau. I was afraid.”
“Are you still afraid?”
Ariana’s brows furrow as if it’s the first time she’s considered the question. “No.” Her answer makes me smile and breathe a sigh of relief.
“Good, because you have no reason to fear me, Ariana. That I can promise you. And, for the record, I don’t respect you because you’re an FBI agent. I respect you because you’re strong, smart, stubborn. And, because you’ve survived one of the most heartbreaking things a human can, and you didn’t let it cripple you. You became someone who helps others avoid suffering the same fate. You risked your life to save Sophia, someone whose death the FBI wouldn’t even blink at knowing our family’s activities. You didn’t save her because it was your job. You saved her because that’s who you are. And that, Ariana, is respectable, admirable. Ultimately, it’s why I agreed to let you come on this mission. Because, depending on how our time with Avery Gallagher goes, I may need you to save me from myself.” Ariana nods as she processes my words, though confusion quickly overcomes her. “What is it?” I ask.
Her lips part as she brings her eyes to mine once more. “Is that all you think of me?”
