Page 82 of Until I Have You

Once the gift is unwrapped, she reveals the bottle of perfume in an antique crystal bottle.

Abigail’s pink lips part.“Wow, it’s beautiful.”She looks askance at me.“Do I smell bad to you?”

“Oh god, no, no.That isn’t the point at all!”

Abigail laughs.“I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”She squeezes the tasseled bulb at watches the scent disperse.“Oh, it smellsamazing.What is that?”

“It’s been uniquely formulated for you.I mean, I picked out the scents.Cherry, magnolia, cedar… Anyway, the idea is that you can wear it and think of me, andIcan have my very own bottle, and you’ll never be far from me.As far as your scent goes.”

Abigail’s lips perk up.

“Which, saying aloud, makes me sound a bit like a stalker or something, but–”

“I love it.”She spritzes some again before letting it fall over her.“That way, you don’t have to miss me as much.”

“That was the idea.”I run my fingers through my hair.“Well, anyway… Merry Christmas.”

Abigail comes up to me.

And we’ve agreed nothing when Bonnie is around, nothing whenanyoneis around.

However, I’m not going to push her away.Would never.Because I want her closeness more than anything.

She touches the front of my dress shirt, runs her fingers between two of the buttons, lifts her face toward mine.“Merry Christmas, Theo.”

Her lips brush mine in a soft kiss.

“Don’t be mad,” she says when she draws away.

I am not mad.In fact, I pull her back to me for another kiss.

“Because I won’t be able to later,” I whisper when I’m done.

Then we go back to the night as if nothing happened.

§

Bonnie has chosen some princess movies, most of which I know by heart.

I’m fond of them, I won’t lie.They’re magical and innocent in a way that reminds me of a time before everything got complicated.

Not to mention, Bonnie singing along with every song is the best.She gets so many of the words wrong, but she belts out with gusto.

Abigail sings along too, many of them from a time when she was a child.

The more I’m around her, the less concerned I am with our age difference.It doesn’t actually matter when we get on so well, enjoy each other’s company so much.

It’s the pesky detail of her father that remains the hardened wall between us that cannot be brought down.

We sit with Bonnie between us, bundled under a blanket, the bowl of popcorn on Bonnie’s lap.

Our fingers brush from time to time, making my insides heat like I’m a schoolboy.

Each touch is accompanied by a familiar glance, a longing smile.

In the middle of the third movie, Abigail whispers, “Psst.”

I look over, and Bonnie is asleep, curled into Abigail’s side.

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