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Seven years since she’d passed, and he still looked heartbroken when he spoke of her. I passed the clerk the ticket to retrieve our coats before we exited and handed my father his. “I won’t go quite as far as that, but I like her…a lot. And I want to make sure you aren’t going to disown me for asking her out.”
Although I’d phrased it as a joke, I was concerned at the older man’s response and held my breath as I pushed through the door leading to the frigid New York City winter air. My father placed a fedora on his head then clapped my back with a shoulder squeeze.
“La vida es inesperada, hijo.” My father’s standard response in good times and bad never failed to make an appearance in any meaningful conversation. “Life is unexpected, son.”
Chapter Five
Leah
No matter how many times I stood on the bottom step leading to my front door, the white package covered in red glittery balls and tied with a fluffy green bow failed to disappear. Only the shot of cold air that blasted my tight-clad legs propelled me forward.
“Another gift.” I breathed the words more than actually saying them to the empty space around me. I leaned to one side then the other to glance around the exterior of my small home. There was every chance someone was screwing with me by sending these random presents.
When I was fairly confident there wouldn’t be an ambush from somewhere nearby, I collected the package and entered my house, making sure I not only locked the door but engaged the alarm. The holidays hadn’t been that good to me thus far, and I wouldn’t rule out the possibility of a nefarious purpose hiding behind the brightly wrapped present.
Even though an almost childlike urging within me was begging me to rip into it immediately, I set the box down on the hardwood floor and hung up my coat and purse first. Then, just to prove to myself I had some measure of self-control, I went to the kitchen and pulled my leftover lo mein from the refrigerator and popped it into the microwave. Before it dinged to let me know it was done, however, I’d retrieved the package and set it on my kitchen table, gnawing at my bottom lip as I debated on whether I should open it or not.
I picked it up and pressed my ear to one side. No ticking.That’s a good sign, right?I flipped open the tag and, once again, it had the same signature as the one the night prior. ‘From Your Secretly Admiring Santa.’
The microwave beeped, and it made the lightbulb over my head flip on. I grabbed my phone and pulled up the app linked to my video doorbell. I had long ago turned off the notifications because it was pretty sensitive and would be set off for a stray leaf. Now, I quickly ran through the clips until I found the one where the gift had been delivered. Rather than the footage shedding any light on the possible mystery person sending them, it was simply a courier—and one who was fairly good at his job, taking a confirmation photo of the box on my doorstep.
I sighed, retrieved my meal and sat down at the same smooth surface where the present sat, acting like a taunting centerpiece. After two bites I caved in and pulled it into my lap just as my phone sang to life and Brendan’s name flashed across the screen. “What the ever-loving hell does he want now?”
There was a picture of a storefront all decorated for Christmas with a table as the focal point, adorned with dainty teacups and what looked like a porcelain teapot all in an identical exquisite pattern. The accompanying text shouldn’t have made me smile, but it did.
Can’t help but think of your favorite addiction.
I took another bite of my meal before responding.
If it weren’t for all that holly jolly bullshit around it, that would be a perfect picture.
Within seconds another alert rang out with yet another picture. This time a selfie of Brendan in front of the iconic Rockefeller Center Christmas tree.
Better?
I’d nearly forgotten the mystery gift until I shifted in my seat and it threatened to tumble to the ground.
Oh definitely. That is a perfect snapshot.
I included an eyeroll emoji that I didn’t quite feel, far more enamored with the banter than I had any right being.
“Boss’ son,” I murmured to myself. “Boss’ son.”
This time, rather than a text, my phone rang to life ten minutes later. Zero surprise that it was Brendan on the other end. “Haven’t you lived in New York City your entire life? Seems like you should be over the whole sightseeing experience.”
There was a distant ding in the background from his end as he laughed. “It’s a different tree every year, Chief. Thought you’d know that.”
“A tree is a tree is a tree,” I responded. Another ding and a faint swoosh coming across the line made me narrow my gaze, even though I knew damn well he couldn’t see me. “Don’t even tell me that you live close to Rockefeller Center.”
His low chuckle echoed over the phone. “Okay I won’t tell you that if I stand on my balcony, I have a perfect view of the tree or that I can watch the Thanksgiving parade from the rooftop lounge in complete comfort.”
I groaned and pushed aside my half-eaten meal, setting the package in its place. “Fine, keep your million-dollar views. I betyoudon’t have a secret admirer.”
Wow, way to go overboard there, Leah. I admonished myself for the juvenile one-upmanship that was definitely a miss. For all I knew, I had a stalker who was planning to lull me into a false sense of security with these gifts before clubbing me over the head and dragging me to some dungeon somewhere.
“True, true.” The rich baritone sent zings of electricity to parts of me that had no business responding to a coworker that way, much less the man poised to take over the company in a few years. “You are very open in your admiration for me. No secrets required. You just admitted it yourself calling my portrait ‘perfect’.”
I nearly choked on my own tongue at not only the excessive confidence but the annoying accuracy. “That was sarcasm, Lanza. Ever heard of it? And, besides, I do not openly admire you.”
