“Everyone needs their books wrapped in December. And I’m a terrible gift wrapper.” Cole laughed. “And apparently it doesn’t matter how badly I wrap them; people still insist on asking me to do it.”
“Really? But it’s so easy.”
“It is? I guess they forgot to tell me. Or show me.”
“I can show you.” He chuckled.
“Okay then. I can’t wait,” I replied.
I failed to tell him both Zainab and Alina, hell, even Elliot who was new, had tried to show me, but they’d all deemed me a hopeless case.
“How was your day?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“I was working.”
“The whole day?”
He nodded.
“It’s how the shift pattern works. Twenty-four hours on, forty-eight hours off.”
I blew out a deep breath.
“Wow. I’m not complaining about twelve-hour shifts anymore.”
“I know it sounds terrible, but most of the time we’re just chilling, or sleeping at the base, so it’s not that exhausting. Unless, of course, there are a lot of incidents.”
“And? Have there been a lot of incidents this week?”
He shook his head.
“Not this week, no. But November was a bit nuts, to be honest. And I’m sure December will be wild too with all this foot traffic and all the fairy lights and electricity on overtime everywhere.”
When we reached the bay, he turned left and we walked along the waterfront a couple blocks until we stopped in front of a white, unassuming Federal style building with a red door and a hanging sign above it that read “Atelier.”
“Here we are.” Cole pointed to the door and stood by one of the two Christmas trees on either side of the door.
The hue and brightness of the fairy lights on it gave him a kind of glow that could only be described as romantic. They made his face, and his lips more specifically, look so inviting.
I stepped forward and checked with him before pushing the door open and becoming embraced by the candle-lit buzz inside. A woman stood behind the host stand and smiled widely at both of us.
“Good evening. Do you have a reservation?” she asked.
Cole gave his name, and the hostess led us to a table by the window with a sea-side view. The table had a Christmassy centerpiece with pine leaves, pinecones, dehydrated orange slices, glittery balls, and a large candle in a glass jar.
The hostess placed a leatherbound clipboard in front of each of us and asked us if we’d like tap, mineral, or sparkling water, then she left us to our own devices.
I looked around. There was a similar vibe everywhere. Attentive staff walked around, ensuring everyone was happy, cheerful smiles on every patron and candles on every table. Next to the bar was a large Christmas tree dressed in white decorations, but the rest of the floor was pretty plain.
“This is different,” I commented.
“Have you been here before?” Cole asked.
“No. I meant different than The Crown.”
Cole closed his eyes and pressed his lips together.
