“That’s exactly it. Mine went after the lack of thermal insulation on the glass façade I designed.”
I gesture toward the window beside us.
“Well, next time he brings it up, you can use this house as a case study. The renovation here was all about thermal efficiency, triple glazing, acoustic insulation... which helps, considering my cousins are currently testing the limits of human hearing in the dining room.”
He scans the space, studying the ceiling lines and window frames.
“I noticed,” he says. “It’s really well done, Alexander. Seriously.”
“Thank you. Coming from a future Ivy League architect, I’ll take that as high praise.” I check my watch, then look back at him. “Listen, it’ll be a while before dinner. If you want to escape to my office down the hall and call Dalila in peace, feel free.”
Relief crosses his face.
“I think I will. It’s hard to hear her with...” he gestures vaguely toward the noise behind us.
“With a full-scale tarantella happening in the living room?” I nod. “Understandable.” I give his shoulder a friendly pat.“Second door on the right. There’s a scale model of a cable-stayed bridge on the desk, you might enjoy it while you talk.”
“Thanks. Really.”
I watch him head down the hallway, already typing quickly on his phone, likely letting Dalila know he can talk now.
I finish my drink and turn back toward the party. That’s when I notice Alicia, sitting among my nieces, the ones her age and the younger ones as well, talking and laughing as if they’ve known each other for far longer than just five days.
When I asked her what she wanted for Christmas, she surprised me. She said it could be gifts, or a donation to a shelter. I chose both. I made the donation, and the other day, we all went to a shelter she chose to help with dinner and deliver the gifts.
I couldn’t stop there. I found a rare edition of her favorite fantasy book, the one set in Middle-earth. She told me the other day how she likes to reread it, how it never gets old. She spoke about the story with such enthusiasm that, for a moment, I considered reading it myself.
For Ethan, with his mother’s permission, I arranged a weekend away for him and his girlfriend in Aspen. Open dates.
For Cecilia... I wanted to give her a ring. A very specific one. But I know it isn’t time yet.
So instead, in January, I’ll take her to Istanbul, for a few days. The rest is already wrapped and waiting under the tree she, the kids, and I decorated before my family arrived. Delicate, desert rose-shaped earrings, commissioned from the Milanese jeweler my family has trusted for years, each stone set exactly where it belongs, mirroring the rose’s colors. And new journals as well. Made for her by the same artisan who crafted the first one I ever gave her.
I always smile when the memory of her confession surfaces, thinking back to weeks ago, when she told me she had returnedto journaling. I remember it like it was yesterday. With her cheek resting on my chest, she told me she’d finally started using the journal I got her for her birthday back in February.
“You make me want to write the things my words can’t say out loud,”she’d said, before pressing a kiss just above my heart.
Since then, it’s become something we share. She reads me passages from her journal whenever there’s something too deep, too delicate to voice any other way.
When I notice her absence, I scan the room and see her slipping toward the backyard with Sam. I follow, receiving absentminded pats on the shoulder and brief greetings from cousins and uncles as I move through them.
The cold night meets me the moment I slide the glass door open.
Slipping off my jacket, I step up behind her and drape it over her shoulders. No matter how beautiful the green dress she’s wearing is, it won’t protect her from the chill.
I wrap my arms around her waist, and she exhales, leaning back into me as we watch Sam run in wide joyful circles across the lawn, stopping to sniff along the edge of the covered pool.
I tilt my head toward the sky.
“Did you know some cultures believed you could whisper wishes to any star, not just shooting ones, and they’d listen?” I murmur near her ear. “Maybe tonight, of all nights, they’re listening a little more closely.”
Cecilia turns in my arms to face me. The glow of the exterior Christmas decorations illuminating her beautiful face.
“I already have everything I want,” she says, her hand over my heart. “I love you, Alexander. And whatever might be missing, we’ll make it happen... together.”
“Ti amo, Cecilia.”
Cradling her face, I kiss her. The tastes of wine and cognac mix as our tongues touch. I pull her even closer to me, deepening the kiss.
