In the moodylight of a grim day in New York, it was pure chance that it caught my eye.
It—a sharp gleam reflecting off glass.
In a city of skyscrapers, that kind of thing happened on the regular.
But this was different. Glass on a rooftop? Nope. On the edge, where there were no windows at all? Nah.
My husband had trained me too well to?—
“Nessa?”
I jumped. “Yes?”
Camille shoved a bag at me. “Pick out a name.”
Grimacing, I stared at the empty chips bag. “This was the best we could do?”
“Don’t be a baby.”
Nose wrinkling, I plucked a small piece of paper out, trying to avoid the Cheeto dust that coated Jake, Niall, and Cameron’s lips—clearly the donors of the bag in question.
Another sharp glint of light reflected off the back wall before I could read the name and had me whipping around to look out the window again.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I’m fine, Camille.”
“Who’d you get?”
“Huh?”
She huffed. “Are you listening?”
“Not really.”
“Secret Santa,” she protested. “Who did you get?”
“Isn’t the secret part the whole point?”
That earned me a second huff and she flounced off, the Cheeto bag in her hand as she shoved it at our sisters-in-law and waited for them to make their selections.
As the others talked about their crafting plans for Secret Santa, I reached for my phone and typed:
Me: You’d better not be where I think you are
I didn’t have to wait long for a reply.
Eoghan: Where do you think I might be?
Me: Somewhere you shouldn’t be.
Eoghan: I doubt I’m where you think I am
Me: Oh, I think you’re exactly where you are
My lips pursed as I slipped out of the hotel suite’s main room and drifted into the bedroom, barely avoiding a convergence of the three greatest terrors in NYC—Star’s Niall, Savvie’s Third, and my other nephew twice over, Roman.
I steered clear of the windows because if my husbandwaswatching me, I didn’t want to freak him out.
