“Thank you,” I say. “It’s a moment I want to remember forever.”
Whitney slides into a spot on the sofa next to me, and then she tugs my face down and lifts hers, kissing me again, right in front of her entire family. “Merry Christmas, Xolotl. I’m glad you’re here.”
Gabe interrupts, dropping five presents at Whitney’s feet. The biggest one is on the bottom, and I know just what it is. “Special delivery for the world’s most annoying lovebird.”
Whitney rolls her eyes. “The only annoying one here isn’t a lovebird.”
“I represent that remark.” Gabe moves some holiday wrap and sits on the chair next to us. “Now open, open. I helped, so I want to see how we did.”
“You asked Gabe for help?” Whitney directs her dubious expression my way. “Really?”
I shrug. “Your mom’s too scary.”
Helen starts laughing from the kitchen. “Truer words were never spoken.”
“Open, already.” Gabe’s patting his knees. “And for the record, I didn’t get you anything, because my true genius was in helping with these.”
“That’s more like it.” Whitney’s smiling as she opens the first outfit I made her—an asymmetrical dress in all black except for a few white splashes at the top and bottom. She shrieks when she pulls it out, almost missing the black and white high heels at the bottom of the box. “You got me the Gucci dress and Ferragamo heels I wanted?”
Gabe frowns. “So you’re actually excited about the clothes he got?”
Whitney hugs me tightly, still vaguely squawking. “These are—I can’t believe it.”
I don’t explain that I manifested them out of nothing, so they cost me not a single dollar. Humans seem to place a great deal of value in the price of things. She’s just as excited about the next three boxes, and I’m beginning to wonder whether I could’ve gotten away with just those.
Her mom perches on the edge of the sofa, watching the post-shrieking chattering with obvious curiosity. “How did you know what to get her?” She pins me with one of her looks. “And what size to choose for all of it? You are sleeping in separate rooms, no?” She’s been making a big deal out of us sleeping in separate rooms, as if that has some special significance. It’s giving me ideas.
“Of course we are, Mom. Xolotl’s been a perfect gentleman.”
That phrase also makes no sense. I’m pretty sure it’s related somehow to kissing, but I should’ve paid more attention to human carnal thoughts before, when I could. It feels like I’m missing something big. “I followed Whitney shopping one day and saw what clothing she wanted, and I have a unique ability,” I say, “to?—”
Whitney drops a hand on my arm. “He’s got connections with a designer friend.”
Right.
The rest of his family doesn’t know what I can do.
“Just one box left.” Whitney has carefully piled up the clothing I chose. She picks up the box, and then she unwraps it. Her squeal this time is the largest yet.
I can’t quite contain my smile.
“This rifle’s amazing,” she says. “Do you know if it fires?”
“The vendor insisted that it did.”
“Vendor?” Helen shoots me a strange look. “Where did you say you’re from again?”
“He emigrated here from Russia,” Whitney says. “He’s a friend of Leonid’s.”
“He has no accent,” Helen says. “Say something in Russian.”
I comply, telling her, “You’re a very smart woman, but some people can speak multiple languages without an accent.” My Russian’s flawless, of course. Then I switch back to English. “And that’s not even the only language I speak.”
“How many languages do you speak?” David Park, Helen’s husband, asks.
I shrug. “I haven’t counted. A lot. It was a long-time hobby of mine, learning languages.”
“Korean?” he asks.
