The room is silent as Declan rises, handing his gift to Henry. Henry clasps him on the shoulder before opening the gift.
“It’s a baking book!” He yells, full of excitement, before his brows furrow and eyes dart to Declan. “And another!”
Henry has half a dozen books about pastries and baking when he pulls out a box that jangles. He rips the box open and dozens of cookie cutters fall out and onto the floor. Gordie darts out from beneath the coffee table, batting one around.
“Thank you, Declan!” Sawyer glares at Declan. I don’t think he realizes he gave Sawyer work with the cookie cutters. I glance over at Nathalie, who has quietly watched everyone, her whole face spread into a smile. I clock when Nathalie realizes she’s the last person.
“My gift is a bit large,” Henry says, “Deon, can you help me carry it inside?”
I rise, confused, but follow Henry into the driveway. He opens the trunk and hands me a small box, and then lifts another massive one.
“What the hell did you buy her?” I ask, eyeing the large box in his hands.
“I bought Nathalie a pair of custom Converse,” he says, dragging the box toward the front door, “But I boughtyoua shoe storage system for her shoes.”
“What?”
“You mentioned her shoes are everywhere. I figured she needed somewhere for them to go. I didn’t have time to build it.” My jaw is slack as we re-enter the house and Nathalie eye’s widen at the two boxes. “I didn’t wrap the larger one.” Sawyer coughs and Henry amends his statement, “Sawyer didn’t wrap the larger one, but open the small one first and I’ll explain.”
Henry snatches the box from my grip and hands it to Nathalie. She tears it apart in milliseconds and she squeals as she lifts the emerald green Converse embroidered with gold thread to look like the leaves of Lórien inLord of the Rings.
“They’re beautiful,” she says, rising to hug Henry.
“I’m glad you like them. The other is a shoe organizer, so you can store all of your Converse.”
“This will save so much space in my apartment!” she exclaims. “I’ll have to borrow your drill when I move back to build it,” she says to Maren, who nods but eyes dart in my direction.
I frown, disliking the sound of those words.
“I’m sure Deon can find space for it here,” Maren says and I grunt, words lost as I realize she’s going to move out sooner rather than later.
I don’t like that at all.
I didn’t like it beforehand, but now Sharon’s words are bouncing around my mind and the love I have for Nathalie is beating like a living thing in my chest.
A lifetime with someone you love doesn’t include moving back into shitty apartments.
Nathalie’s brows furrow, but she serves everyone spiked cider, and we sit around the room, laughing and sharing stories. Eventually, yawns turn into goodbyes, and Declan, Nathalie, and I put away the food.
My chest is tight as Nathalie gets ready for bed, digging through her suitcase for her pajama dress.
I hate those suitcases and what they symbolize. Eventually, she will move out, and things will change. I don’t want anything to change. I want her here, forever.
I stumble back at how clearly that rings true.
She’s in the bathroom, brushing her teeth, when I blurt out, “Do you like it here?”
Confused brown eyes meet mine. “Huh?”
“My home. Do you like it?”
“Uh…” She rinses her mouth and spins to lean against the counter. “Your home is beautiful.” Her eyes search mine, and I stuff my hand in my pocket to hide the fact they’re shaking. “Why do you ask?”
Because I love you, and I want you to stay.
Because I’m terrified to tell you how I feel.
Because you brought me back to life.