Page 103 of His To Unravel
“A pleasure.” He bows his head slightly. “I’m Jeremy, your liaison for the day. If you’ll follow me, I’ll guide you through the curated displays.”
We are led through the gallery, where illuminated cases display ornaments, each more intricate than the last. There are handblown glass globes from Murano, delicate filigree stars adorned with diamonds, and even miniature sculptures carved from precious metals. Each piece seems imbued with meaning, the accompanying plaques detailing the artisan’s inspiration and the materials used.
I stay behind Renée and Nathaniel, trying to absorb the extravagance. The opulence is overwhelming, from the luxury of the space to the exclusivity of the event. It isn’t just a gallery—it’s astage, where old-money families mingle with the crème de la crème of the art world.
Renée stops before a display featuring a crystalline snowflake embedded with tiny sapphires. “This one reminds me of Alexander. He always went for the bold pieces.”
Her voice is light, but the mention of Nathaniel’s twin sends a ripple of tension through the air.
“And Nathaniel preferred simpler designs?” I ask, hoping to steer the conversation into safer waters.
Renée chuckles softly, nodding. “Yes. He always had an eye for elegance in restraint. I used to tease him about being too serious, even as a child. Alexander, on the other hand…” Her smile softens with nostalgia. “He had a wild streak. One year, he convinced the string quartet to play theStar Warstheme instead of the holiday overture as guests arrived.”
I glance at Nathaniel. His expression doesn’t change, but the hand holding mine tightens ever so slightly.
“And did they?” I ask lightly, hoping to ease the weight of the memory.
“They did.” Renée laughs. “Nathaniel was absolutely mortified. But I caught him humming along under his breath.” Her gaze flickers briefly to her son. “They were always like that—Alexander causing chaos, and Nathaniel pretending he wasn’t enjoying it just as much.”
Nathaniel’s voice is curt when he finally speaks. “He always knew how to have a good time.”
Renée’s laughter falters, and for a moment, her smile seems forced. “Well, he made the holidays…memorable,” she says quietly, her gaze shifting away.
As we move from display to display, Nathaniel’s attention remains focused on me. He barely acknowledges his mother or Jeremy, though he nods politely when addressed.
I feel Nathaniel’s hand brush my lower back to get my attention. “Are you warm enough?” he asks. “They keep it chilly in here, don’t they?”
“I’m fine, thank you.” I give a small smile, hoping to reassure him. But he seems unsatisfied, studying me for a moment longer, as if debating whether to go fetch a coat for me right then and there.
Before I can look away, he reaches over and straightens my scarf, his fingers grazing my collarbone in a way that sends a small, pleasant shiver down my spine.
“Nate, I’m fine,” I reiterate, a little embarrassed. Glancing over at his mother, I’m relieved to see she is engrossed in a display.
“Of course, you are,” he replies, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I prefer to see you comfortable.” His fingers give a gentle squeeze before he releases me, though he stays close, as if he needs to keep me within reach.
A delicate glass bauble painted with intricate winter scenes catches my eye, and I stop to admire it.
“Do you like this one?” he asks.
“It’s beautiful,” I reply, my voice hushed.
“We’ll take it,” he says to Jeremy immediately.
“Nathaniel,” I protest, feeling self-conscious under Renée’s watchful gaze. “You don’t have to buy something just because I like it.”
His piercing blue eyes meet mine, unwavering. “I want you to have it,” he says simply, like that’s reason enough. And for him, I think it is.
The intensity of his undivided attention makes my cheeks warm. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Renée watching us.
“It’s good to see him so expressive,” Renée remarks as we move to the next display. “He tends to keep everything bottled up.”
Her words give me pause. I glance at Nathaniel, who is busy examining a swan-shaped ornament adorned with tiny emeralds.
Renée continues, her tone thoughtful. “He wasn’t always thisway. As a child, he was…quieter than Alexander, but there was a warmth to him. After…” She trails off, her eyes dimming slightly. “Well, it’s reassuring to see him like this now.”
I’m not sure how to respond, so I nod, focusing on the display before us.
Renée’s reminiscing continues as we browse the rest of the collection. She shares small anecdotes about past Christmases, painting a picture of a family dynamic I haven’t been privy to before.
