“Honestly, the holidays are not a huge deal. My father never liked them very much and my mother gave in to his every whim. We’d do a small dinner on Christmas Eve, usually a seafood-type pasta, garlic bread, wine, and open a gift. Growing up, Mag and I would usually play all Christmas Day with whatever was under the tree, and later video games when we were teens. That’s about it.”
“I had no idea.” Her words were soft and filled with care.
If I pressed, I bet Tulya would invite me to be with her the following year. The promise of it did things to me I didn’t care to admit. “My grandmother passed away on Christmas when my dad was young, and he never got over it. My mom did her best, but her loyalty always went to my father,” I tried to explain.
Tulya’s hand reached across the table and took mine in hers. I looked up at her, our gazes meeting. A fission of energy toggled us to one another in a way neither of us fully understood.
“I’m glad we’re having our own little tradition, even if it’s only for one year,” she added, squeezing my fingers. “This is setting a new bar. I may not want to do the roast and brunch next year.”
I swallowed every emotion lodged in my throat. How I wished this could be a forever tradition. I was liking this too much—Tulya, Florida, the dress, cocktails, the holiday chatter, every fucking thing.
“Actually, I was somewhat surprised Magnum wanted to come see Blake for the holiday, but it’s nice. Maybe he is more invested than I give him credit for. I don’t know, but this is all so new. Mag, a daughter, excitement over the holidays, you name it.”
She set down her fork; she’d been devouring her salad in a way I wished she reserved for me. She took my hand again, and the current was now electric between us.
“Um, excuse me, you’re the one who last-minute ordered and delivered half of Neiman’s to Blake’s house.”
“That’s because if I was a kid, I’d want someone to spoil me for the holidays. Speaking of,” I said, reaching into my pocket, “I had a small trick up my sleeve when it came to all my ordering and delivering, as you say.”
I pulled out a petite pouch and slid it across the table with my free hand, not even daring to remove my fingers tangled with Tulya’s.
“What? When? We didn’t say we were doing this.”
“I know, but I know this wasn’t how you hoped to spend the occasion. Or quite frankly, you hadn’t wanted to be here at all. So, I tried to do something to cheer you up.” It was already more than I liked to admit aloud, but Tulya unnerved me.
“Thank you. I wish you’d said something. I was out shopping and didn’t even think to do gifts—”
“Open it,” I interrupted, not breathing any more life into her worry over me.
The only negative part was her taking her hand from mine so she could untie the pouch. I watched her slip out the heart-shaped earrings, a myriad of red rubies and pink sapphires, and her mouth opened to a small O.
“Donovan! No one has ever… What? These are too much.”
It was the type of reaction I’d wanted but never would admit—even on my deathbed.
“They’re… I mean, they’re… I don’t have the words.” She held the earrings and stared at them for a beat.
We’d spent the evening chatting freely, relishing one another’s company, and this was dessert for me. If I could make her this happy again and again, I would. “Put them on.”
“I feel so awful. I didn’t get you anything. I didn’t realize we were exchanging, and they’re so extravagant.”
“Stop feeling awful, I want to see them.”
Her hand shook while removing the backing of one. I admired her lithe fingers and pale pink painted nails.
Clearing my throat, I spoke again. “I know this is out of the ordinary, you being here, doing this for my family, and I wanted you to know I care. Period.” I was trying to make it seem like a thank-you gift. The words I didn’t share were how much I was beginning to care about her as a person.
Rather than go on, I watched as Tulya slid her hand up the nape of her neck and removed the stud she was wearing and placed the heart I’d selected on her ear.
“Perfect,” I murmured, and it was.
After arranging the second one on her other lobe, she put her diamond studs in the pouch and slipped it into her purse. “Thank you so much. I don’t even know what else to say,” she said, staring at me, her eyes beckoning orbs of gray.
They were my personal airstrip—I wanted to land a plane there and never leave.
She brought her wine to her lips as the server made his way back, explaining there was either a buffet or an à la carte option.
“Do you like sea bass?” Tulya quickly asked me, and I nodded.
