“Okay, well, since you two are getting along so famously, I have a few last-minute presents to get, so I’ll see you later.”
My jaw dropped when he blew me a kiss and ran out the door.
I wassogoing to kill him.
Chapter Two
What do you get the man who has everything?
I entered Presley’s antiques store and browsed around while he waited on several customers buying some estate jewelry. If anyone would know the perfect thing to get Frisco, it would be his childhood best friend.
“Sorry you had to wait.” Press hurried over and we hugged. “Last-minute shoppers.”
“Not a problem. I understand. It’s that time of the year.”
His grin was rueful. “I for one, am over it. Ho-Ho-No. Ugh.” He stretched. “I can’t wait to close for Christmas. I’m taking the day after off as well. Nate and I are going to be at his brother’s house on the Island for the holiday. What are you guys doing?”
As he talked, Press made us cappuccinos, and I wondered how many he’d made over the years, knowing Frisco used this store as his escape.
“Thanks,” I said when he handed me the cup. “We’re going to my mom’s, starting Christmas Eve. We have the big traditional Italian Feast of the Seven Fishes. Everyone will cook something. Then Christmas will be all about Tina, but Frisco and I are surprising my mother with a trip to Italy.”
Press’s eyes glowed. “That’s fantastic. Are you going to go with her?”
“Yeah. Neither of us has ever been, so Frisco will be our tour guide.”
Presley’s eyes danced. “I can’t wait to hear the stories.”
“I don’t know if we’ll be meeting any of his relatives. We haven’t discussed anything about the trip yet, since it’s in the springtime.” I stared morosely into my cup. “Right now I’m having a hell of a time figuring out what to get him for Christmas.” I’d had a crazy idea but wasn’t sure it was the right time. If it ever would be.
“I can imagine. It’s always been a struggle for me. Half the time I just get him a gag gift, or I take him out to dinner, but I understand you’d want something more personal.”
“What did you get Nate? You must be in the same boat as me. He has everything.”
Color rose to Presley’s cheeks. “Well, yeah, but I can do things that are special to us. I’ll cook him breakfast, or we go away someplace that holds memories for us. Why not something like that?”
I sighed. “It’s nice, but I wanted something…different. Special.”
Presley took a seat next to me. “Okay, I’m going to stick my nose in your business, but we’re good friends in our own right. Have you and Frisco ever talked about getting married?”
Presley was probably the only person I could talk so candidly with. “I’d marry him in a heartbeat. I love him to pieces, as does my whole family.” I paused. “Do you know where I left him right now?”
“No.”
“He’s with my six-year-old niece, making pasta. Then, when I get back, we’re going to trim the tree and maybe make cookies.”
Presley whooped with laughter. “Pictures. I need pictures, man.” After a few minutes, he settled down. “But see? That manlovesyou. The Frisco I knew before he met you wouldneverdo that. Why are you still so hesitant?”
My old insecurities had wiggled their way to the surface, but Presley was right; he’d become a close friend with whom I could share my secrets.
“Sometimes…I wonder if he misses his old, carefree days. I love him so much, and I don’t ever want him to have regrets.” Presley opened his mouth and I put up a hand. “No, wait. Please. Hear me out.”
“Okay.” He focused those penetrating dark eyes on me.
“I’m not doubting he loves me. And God knows I’m crazy about him. But I feel like he’s not always with me, but somewhere else in his head. I don’t know. I wonder if it’s because he misses the crowds, the glitzy parties, and the opening nights. It has to be a culture shock coming from that life to being with me, staying at home or working at his restaurant. I knew going into this that I wasn’t his usual type, but I’d hate for him not to be out doing what he loves. He might be saying he’s fine but only because he doesn’t want to hurt my feelings.”
“Frisco doesn’t keep his opinions to himself. Trust me…if he doesn’t like something, he’ll tell you. Loudly and often.”
“I know.” Morose, I gazed into my cup. “And yet I still worry. I don’t think he’s unhappy but…I don’t know how to explain it.”
