Either way, for this moment, it’s enough.
Leo drops down beside me, shoulder brushing mine. Our fingers lace together without thinking.
We break for coffee and breakfast like nothing extraordinary just happened.
Like I didn’t wake up wrapped in Leo’s arms on Christmas morning. Like my heart isn’t still humming.
The kitchen smells like espresso and cinnamon and something buttery in the oven. His dad’s reading the paper. His mom’s moving around with purpose, silk robe, perfect hair, but there’s something… looser about her today. Less brittle.
I sip my coffee, warming my hands around the mug.
“I can’t stay,” I say quietly, meeting Leo’s eyes. “Susan and I are heading to the Cape.”
His jaw tightens just a little. He bites his lip, nods once.
“Yeah. I figured.”
Then he hesitates.
“I got you something,” he says. “I wasn’t sure if I’d even see you today. I was going to hang on to it. Just… in case.”
My stomach flips.
He stands and heads upstairs before I can say anything. I stare into my coffee like it might tell me what’s coming.
When he comes back down, he’s holding a small, wrapped box.
Too small.
My pulse spikes. Jewelry.
“Leo,” I start, already anxious.
“I saw it,” he says quickly, sitting across from me, earnest. “My dad and I were in New York. And I just knew. It’s jade.”
I blink.
“Not just because of your name,” he adds. “It’s the stone. Emerald green. Strong. Ancient. Beautiful. It lasts.”
He swallows. “I want you to have it. Even if?—”
I open the box before he finishes.
And I forget how to breathe.
It’s a full set. A thick jade necklace, polished and deep green, heavy in the best way. A matching ring set in white gold. Dropearrings. A chunky jade bracelet that looks like it was carved for armor as much as elegance.
It’s stunning.
It’sme.
I laugh softly, overwhelmed. “Leo… it’s beautiful.”
“Will you put it on?” he asks. “With the pajamas?”
I smile, nod, hands a little shaky as I clasp the necklace. It’s cool against my skin. Grounding. Like it belongs there.
His mother appears in the doorway, coffee cup in hand.
