Page 21 of Wrapped Up in Holly

I held my hand out to him. “This was your idea.”

“Not one of my better ones.”

“Hey!” I playfully whacked him in the stomach, and he threw his arm around my neck.

“I meant ice skating. Visiting you was a long time coming.”

Evan and I hadn’t seen each other in about six months. When I’d first signed with my agency three years ago, it was a slow start, getting my portfolio together and trying to book gigs. I’d had the time to see Evan whenever he had a break from school, but over the last two years, my career had taken off. I’d walked in shows all over the world, had been featured in multiple magazines, and met so many people in the industry, I should have been happy.

And yet, I hadn’t realized how unhappy I was until Evan showed up at my apartment door this morning. I was so surprised I’d knocked a picture frame off the wall.

We spent the day doing every stereotypical New York Christmas thing we could: strolled along 5thAvenue to admire all the window dressings, drank a hot chocolate at Serendipity, caught the matinee performance of the Rockettes, took pictures in front of the Rockefeller tree, and now ice skating.

“You about ready to get out of here?” Evan asked, lacing his fingers with mine.

The sun was setting, and though it was still early, I was exhausted. I think I’d seen more of Manhattan than I had all year.

“Yeah. Let’s go home.”

Although,homewasn’t really home. It was a two-bedroom apartment I shared with two other models, Nadine and Imka. But there had yet to be a time when all three of us were there together. Imka, an in demand model from South Africa, was rarely there, so when she was, she slept on the pull-out couch. The few things she owned were stored around the apartment. My bedroom was the smaller one, just enough for me and my things. I’d left anything important with Evan.

Hewas my most important possession, after all.

And being with him now, in my home away from home, I didn’t know how I was going to be able to let him go again.

I didn’t know if it was this time of year that always reminded me of Evan or the melancholy of not having my friends or family around me during the holiday season, but I was struggling to keep the smile on my face, thinking of him leaving tomorrow.

Particularly after he’d surprised me, saving up all of his money for a plane ticket to come here on Christmas Eve Eve.

We removed our skates and laced our shoes back up before Evan slipped his arm around my waist. It was getting more and more crowded with tourists, and everywhere we turned, groups of people were stopped to take pictures or watch the breakdancing Santa. It was claustrophobic, and I burrowed into Evan’s side.

“You okay?” he asked, steering me around a cluster of teenage girls. When I nodded, he tugged on my hand. “Let’s cut this way,” he said, as if he was a real New Yorker, knowing exactly where to go. He probably studied the subway system in his spare time for the few times he had visited me.

Because that was Evan Hart, a planner, caretaker. Always responsible and always willing to go the extra mile. Or, in this case, 500 miles.

We hopped on the D line, finding two open seats between an older Black couple with lots of shopping bags and a young Asian kid eating a slice of pizza.

At one of the stops, a busker hopped on our train and started in with Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas is You.” Some people groaned while others bobbed their heads or joined in. I leaned my temple on Evan’s shoulder, thinking about how we’d promised not to get each other anything. Yet, here he was. My present.

And I’d done nothing, hadn’t bought him a gift.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as we stood, making our way off the train at 125thStreet.

“I feel bad.”

“About what?”

I pulled my coat up higher around my neck with one hand, since he wouldn’t let go of my other. “I didn’t get you a present.”

“We agreed not to get each other anything.”

“Yeah. Exactly. But you’re here, and?—”

“You’re my present,” he said.

“But you’remypresent.”

He threw his arm around me, chuckling against my hair. “Get naked when we get home, and we’ll call it even.”

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