He opened it carefully, peeling back the paper, and pulled out a leather bracelet—simple, dark brown, with a small silver plate engraved with coordinates.
“What are these?” he asked, running his thumb over the numbers.
“The rink where we met. Our first practice with the Glaciers.”
He stared at it for a long moment, his jaw working. Then he snapped it onto his wrist, the leather fitting perfectly. “I love it.”
“You can safely wear it under your glove.”
“Good, I won’t take it off.” He held up his wrist, admiring it. “Your turn.”
He handed me a flat package, heavier than it looked. I unwrapped it to find a framed photograph—the two of us on the ice during warm-ups, taken from ice-level. We faced each other, just talking, but the way we stood, the way we looked at each other, even in hockey gear, even in a public space, the spark was there, unmistakable.
“When was this taken?” I asked.
“October. Before my injury. I found it on the team photographer’s website—they post hundreds of shots. This was just one among many, but I saw it and…” He trailed off. “I saw us. Really saw us. Even when we were trying to hide it.”
I traced the edge of the frame. “It’s perfect.”
I stood and carried it to the bookshelf. Marco’s trophies were arranged there—mini Stanley Cup, All-Star appearances, team awards. I moved them slightly to make room and placed our photo right at eye level.
Front and center. Where everyone could see it.
Marco cooked a delicious ham, with enough leftovers for days. I cleaned up after dinner, and Marco came through behind me, giving the counters one final wipe.
“Want to watch a Christmas movie?” Marco asked as he washed his hands.
“Yeah. Let’s doDie Hard.”
He fumbled the hand towel. “Die Hardis not a Christmas movie.”
“Of course it is. It takes place at Christmas.”
“That doesn’t make it a Christmas movie, Étienne. By that logic,Batman Returnsis a Christmas movie.”
“Batman Returnsis debatable.Die Hardis definitive.” I put the last plate away and turned to face him. “Christmas party. Christmas music. Christmas decorations. The whole thing happens because it’s Christmas.”
“The whole thing happens because Hans Gruber wants to steal bearer bonds from a vault.”
“At a Christmas party.”
Marco threw up his hands. “Setting doesn’t determine genre! It’s an action movie that happens to be set during Christmas. There’s a difference.”
“Name one element of a Christmas movie thatDie Harddoesn’t have.”
He opened his mouth, closed it, then said, “Santa Claus.”
“The guy dressed as Santa who gets shot in the elevator.”
“That doesn’t count!”
“It absolutely counts. Santa: check. Christmas tree: check. ‘Jingle Bells’ on the soundtrack: check. Man trying to reunite with his family for the holidays: check.” I ticked them off on my fingers. “Face it, Marco.Die Hardis a Christmas movie.”
“It’s a movie about terrorism.”
“Christmas terrorism.”
He stared at me for a long moment, then snapped the towel in my direction. “You’re infuriating.”
