“Text me when you wake up,” she says, eyes bright. “I want pictures of everything tomorrow.”
“Of my gifts?” I ask with a chuckle.
“Let’s go Luna,” Nico urges, his hand on her shoulder.
Luna shrugs his hand off and grabs me into another hug. “I’m so happy for you.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, hugging tighter because our hugs never feel like enough.
Nico stands behind her, a look of yearning and protectiveness I haven’t ever seen in him before.
I let Luna go and she brushes by Nico and out the door.
“Lock the door behind us,” he reminds me, pointing a stern finger even though we both know Santo’s men are right at the gate.
“Yes, yes,” I laugh, shooing him out. “Goodnight.”
When the door clicks shut, I turn the deadbolt like he said. Then I sag against the door, breath leaving me in one long, tired sigh.
“I am so exhausted,” I groan out loud. “We should take a nice, long bath together. Andyesyou were right about the boots…my feet are dying.”
I push off the door and wander into the living room to Santo, but the room is empty.
No Santo.
My heart gives the smallest, ridiculous pinch. “Santo?”
Silence.
Then, I spot it.
A single snackcake on the console table… surrounded by rose petals. I blink, step closer, pick it up—and there, half hidden behind the lamp, another snackcake. More petals.
I let out a delighted giggle. “Santo Amato, what is this?”
I follow the trail like breadcrumbs, each silly, sweet, individually wrapped snackcake warming my chest as petals guide me through the room and down the hallway.
The trail stops at the glass double doors leading to the garden.
My coat hangs neatly on the hook beside them.
And beneath it… a note. His handwriting.
Meet me in the garden.
My breath catches.
I place the snackcakes on the table by the note and slip into the coat, fingers trembling just a little, excitement buzzing beneath my skin.
I open the door.
And step into the night.
The cold air hits me, but my heart floods with warmth.
The garden is transformed.
Hundreds of tiny lights twinkle like fallen stars, suspended from branches, woven through hedges, reflecting in the frost-kissed ground.
