Page 104 of His To Unravel
“Alexander always had a flair for the dramatic,” she says with a fond smile. “He’d pick the most expensive ornament, just to see their father’s reaction. Nathaniel was more thoughtful—he’d choose something timeless.”
Nathaniel’s smile tightens, though he doesn’t interrupt.
“He adored you, you know,” Renée adds, her gaze softening as she looks at her son. “He always said you kept his feet on the ground.”
Nathaniel’s jaw clenches, and I feel his fingers twitch slightly against mine.
The tension in Nathaniel is palpable, though he keeps his demeanor calm. His focus never leaves me, his touches frequent and soothing. But I can feel the weight of the conversation pressing down on him.
I watch as his mother’s words seem to chip away at his composure, piece by piece. Every mention of Alexander tightens the coil of tension in his shoulders, though he never lets it snap.
When Renée pauses before a particularly intricate ornament—a golden dove with pearl inlays—she turns to Nathaniel. “This would’ve been one of Alexander’s choices,” she says softly.
Nathaniel nods once, his jaw tight. “It’s a fine piece.”
As we move to the next display, I reach for Nathaniel’s hand, giving it a squeeze. He glances at me, his expression thawing slightly.
Renée’s gaze flicks between us, and I can see the shift in her demeanor. There is gratitude there, but also a lingering sadness.
“Perhaps this year’s choice should be yours, Olivia,” Renée says suddenly, her voice light. “You’ve brought such warmth to this family already.”
The unexpected compliment catches me off guard, but Nathaniel’s response is immediate. “If that’s what Olivia wants, then that’s what we’ll do.”
I look at him, my heart twisting at the devotion in his eyes. His mother might have been speaking to me, but Nathaniel’s only objective is ensuring my comfort.
I smile, touched despite myself. “Thank you, Mrs. Caldwell. I’d be honored.” I glance at Nathaniel, bumping my shoulder gently against his. “But only if you help me pick it out. No brooding in the corner while I do all the work.”
A real smile breaks across his face then, so achingly beautiful it steals the breath right from my lungs. For a moment, I forget we’re not alone. There’s only him, and the way he’s looking at me like I’ve just given him something he didn’t know he needed.
Together, we turn toward the ornaments.
The piece we ultimately choose is a shimmering glass star, its edges dipped in gold and encrusted with tiny crystals. It isn’t the most extravagant one on display, nor the simplest, but something about its timeless design feels right. I gently coax Nathaniel for his input. Though he initially deflects, he eventually relents, agreeing to the star after I press him about his preferences.
It isn’t much, but it feels like progress. He is engaging with the tradition, even if it is for my sake. Renée looks quietly pleased, her smile softening as she watches Nathaniel hand Jeremy the selection card. I don’t miss the way her eyes linger on her son, an expression of relief and something unspoken passing across her face.
The apartment is quiet now, the earlier hum of conversation and bustling gallery a distant memory. Nathaniel’s head rests onmy lap, his eyes closed, his breaths slow and even. I run my fingers through his hair absently, the silky strands slipping through my fingers as he shifts slightly, adjusting to the rhythm of my touch.
Renée left not long after we returned, giving me a polite kiss on the cheek and casting her son a meaningful look before exiting with her driver. Her expression was tinged with something almost akin to hope. Like she’d caught a glimpse of the boy she used to know and maybe, for the first time in years, believed he might find his way back.
Nathaniel didn’t say much after that, but I can feel the tension bleeding out of him now that we are alone.
In this stillness, he finally looks peaceful. His usual sharp features soften in repose, and the faint lines of stress that always seem to frame his brows have smoothed out. He looks younger like this, more vulnerable.
My mind wanders to the conversations at the gallery. Renée’s stories about Alexander play on a loop in my mind, intertwining with the tension I felt in Nathaniel throughout the day. The way his jaw tightened whenever his mother brought up his brother, the flash of something pained in his eyes before he buried it again.
It’s clear that Alexander isn’t just a figure in Nathaniel’s life—he is a shadow, hovering at the fringes of every memory Renée shares.Identical twins.I can’t imagine the bond they must have had, or the depth of that connection now that Alexander isn’t here.
I want to ask. The question sits heavy on my tongue, pressing against my thoughts. But looking at Nathaniel now, peaceful and still for the first time all day, I can’t bring myself to disrupt the moment. Alexander is a wound he isn’t ready to reopen, and I don’t want to hurt him by forcing it.
Instead, I focus on the growing protectiveness I feel toward him. Nathaniel, for all his strength and calculated intensity, has a fragility I hadn’t fully understood until now. He carries so much,his past etched into the sharp angles of his personality, shaping the way he loves me with such fervor and obsession.
I don’t know everything about him—not yet—but I am willing to wait. Whatever burden he carries, whatever scars he can’t yet show me, I will be here when he is ready.
The serenity of the evening settles over us, the din of Manhattan faint beyond the apartment windows. Nathaniel stirs slightly, his hand curling around my knee as he mumbles something I can’t quite catch. I lean down, pressing a soft kiss to his temple.
“What are you dreaming about?” I whisper.
His lips curve, though his eyes remain closed. “You,” he mumbles, his voice low and warm.
