Page 115 of My Secret Snowflake
I pick up my phone. “I can text her now that I can’t interview for the job since we’re dating.” I text that message to the CEO.
“Why is your Christmas tree decorated with socks? Is this to make the point that you really like socks?” She touches one. “Why are they numbered?”
“Not quite,” I say. “I prefer to think of them as stockings. You should respect the role of socks as a very laudable Christmas gift.”
Iris faces me on the couch and a serious expression crosses her face.What now?
“I want to apologize that you felt I wasn’t fully on board with this relationship.” Iris holds my face between her hands. “I love you.” Her face softens.
She loves me. My heart feels full.
Her thumbs trace my cheekbones. “I love you. You’re the most amazing guy. You were so completely in my corner during this whole horrible crisis, and you even made it fun. I was completely devastated, and then sitting with you in my room, figuring out Raphael’s clues, I was actually having a good time. It should have been one of the scariest moments of my life because my whole career could have gone down in flames. And yet, I was happy. It's because you were there for me. I feel so lucky that you want to be with me. And I’m sorry I was scared.” Her beautiful hazel eyes brim with tears. “I love you.”
“Don’t cry.” I brush a tear away with my thumb. “Please don’t cry. It hurts me so much to see you cry. I love you so much.” I do. It’s overwhelming how much I love her.
I enfold her in my arms. We just hold each other tightly, and then I kiss her. And it’s like we’re finding each other again, but with a deeper knowledge of our strengths and our frailties and with the confidence that this will last. But it’s also worth celebrating now and not taking any of this for granted.
My phone beeps. I ignore it. It beeps again. I should’ve silenced the thing. We ignore it.
When we finally break apart, we grin at each other.
“So the socks—sorry—stockings?” she asks.
“It’s a scavenger hunt for you,” I say.
Her eyes light up. “Really?”
I nod. I don’t want to ever let her go.
“You should check your messages,” she says. “In case it’s your family or something.”
I pick up my phone and silence it at the same time.
“It’s the CEO from Shooting Stars. She says that they definitely don’t have a no-dating policy because her husband works there as a film director, and they started the company together. She hopes I will come for the interview tomorrow.”
“You should go, then, if you want,” she says.
“I do. I’m not happy with how Dream treated you either,” I say.
“But you don’t think this is another weird Colby/Xavier situation?” she asks, her brow suddenly furrowed.
“My father spoke very highly of Christy’s integrity, so I don’t think so.” I text back that I’ll be there tomorrow to interview, as planned. “It turns out my father knows her and recommended me. But I don’t think they’ll hire me based on that alone.”
“Not for a counsel position,” she says.
Iris turns the first sock upside down. Out drops a chocolate chip. At least it didn’t melt. She pulls out a Levain Bakery napkin.
She looks at me quizzically. “Okay, Levain Bakery chocolate chips. Not what I was expecting, but interesting. Definitely yummy.”
“Open the next one.” Have I made this too obscure?
She pulls out a photo of the Emerald City house in Dyker Heights. “Is this like a tour of every place we’ve visited? I love it.”
She turns over the card. On the back is written:
“Emerald City exists in the magical land of _ _.”
“Oz,” she says.
