Honey jumped up on a chair nearby, pawing at the air for attention, and I couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped. Joshua glanced over, a ghost of a smile tugging at his mouth.
“S-smells amazing.”
He gave a quiet hum, rubbing the back of his neck. “Let’s hope it tastes half as good as it smells.”
I shouldn’t have been comfortable. I shouldn’t have liked the way his voice softened when he spoke.
But I did.
And the food, I didn’t expect him to actually pull it off.
But he did.
The roast was… perfect. The kind of perfect that made my chest ache a little. Crispy potatoes, buttery inside. Gravy thick and warm, exactly how it should be. Even the stuffing—God, the stuffing tasted like something Mum would’ve made.
“Good?” he asked quietly when I finally stopped chewing, trying to hide the way my eyes might’ve been shining just a bit too much.
I nodded, pressing my lips together before parting them a bit. “Very.”
His shoulders eased. I caught it in the corner of my eye, the way he exhaled as if he’d been holding his breath since I walked in.
We ate in silence after that. Not awkward silence, not really. Just… quiet. Honey was curled up between us on the floor, twitching its tail in little half-dreams, the pretty lights blinking slowly on the treat.
Everything felt nice. Really nice. I almost didn’t want tonight to end.
After finishing, I was about to stand to help clear the plates, even though I couldn’t really hold much with one arm, when something slid across the table.
A soft sound.
I looked down.
A small, square-shaped gift. Wrapped neatly in gold paper, a bow tied at the top, just slightly uneven, like he’d actually done it himself.
I blinked up at him.
He shrugged, looking suddenly very interested in his drink.
“It’s nothing. Just… I don’t know. Everyone gets gifts on Christmas, right?”
I hesitated, my heart doing this dumb, fluttery thing in my chest. Slowly, I reached out and pulled the gift closer with my good hand.
I looked at him again. He wasn’t watching me this time; he was pretending to scroll on his phone, but his thumb wasn’t even moving.
I could tell he was waiting.
So I started to unwrap it carefully, piece by piece. Not because it was expensive or fancy or whatever. But because… no one had given me a Christmas gift in years. Not since home stopped feeling like home and the fact that it was him, the person who’d once made my life hell, was sitting across from me, too nervous to look up… It felt unreal.
Almost like forgiveness.
Almost.
The paper slipped off, and there it was.
A book.
Aromancebook.
Not just any cheap paperback, either; it was a thick, glossy cover, a beautiful kind of heartbreak title printed in gold across the front. One of those slow-burn ones I’ve been eyeing for months but never bought because I couldn’t justify spending that much on something that wasn’t ‘necessary’.
