“I think going together sounds like the boyfriend thing to do, don’t you?”
His grin was back and he nodded again. “Yes. Okay, I’ll... I should go. Please tell Ro I said thank you for dinner.”
“Anytime. Next time I’ll cook... or order takeout. Probably safer. But dinner again, yes?”
“Okay.”
“Drive safely,” I said. “I’m already looking forward to your poem tomorrow. No pressure or anything.”
He laughed. “I already know what it’s going to be.” With a grin and bright eyes, he ran out into the snow. I watched him start his truck before I closed the door, and when I turned around, Ro was standing there watching me.
I swooned. Actually freaking swooned.
“He is a bit cute,” she said.
I laughed. “Isn’t he just? Oh my god.”
Her smile was half happy, half sad. “You are so in love,” she said quietly.
“I think I am, yes.”
“I’m happy for you, Win.”
“I’m happy for me too.” I sighed dreamily. “Thank you for everything tonight. I’ll bring us home dinner tomorrow night as repayment.”
“Sounds good.”
“And you have to help me figure out what the hell I’m supposed to get him for Christmas.”
She gasped. “You haven’t gotten him anything yet?”
I grimaced. “Well, I have but... what I ordered for him doesn’t feel right now. I got him some noise-canceling headphones. You know.” I shrugged. “It can really help when he gets overwhelmed.”
“And now you don’t think that’s a good idea?”
I shook my head. “No. I mean, I can still give them to him, but I don’t want him to think I’m trying to fix him. Because he’s not broken. Now I understand him better. He just needs reassurance. The headphones might still be okay as a side gift, but I need to get him something... more. Something better. Something that tells him how grateful I am for every little line of poetry he sends me. How happy he makes me, that tells him, shows him how I feel.”
“It’s five days till Christmas, Win,” she pointed out.
I made a pitiful noise. “That’s not helping.”
She gave me a look that told me to stop being a whiny baby and let out a long-suffering sigh. “You really are the Winter of our discontent.”
I gasped, hand to my heart. “Ouch.”
But then we googled ideas. Did we find anything?
Nope. Not one thing.
I went to bed confused and a little deflated, but I woke up excited for his morning poem.
Unlike my ability to think of the perfect gift, he did not disappoint.
“To touch can be to give life.”
I had to google that quote, and boy, did he ever keep surprising me. Now he was quoting Michelangelo, and my heart... well, my heart was his.
“Good morning, Evie,”I said as she came into the store. “Ro, are you sure you’re okay to take these?”
