Page 46 of His Gift
“You okay?” Enzo asked as we sat at a table under a thick marquee, nibbling on the selection of sliders, sweet glazed chicken fingers, loaded potato skins, veggie skewers, and a bunch of other things we’d gathered from the food carts up and down the market’s food row. “You’re awfully quiet for a guy who’s playing hooky from his big, important job.”
I huffed gently into a smile and let my shoulders drop. Actually, I was holding a heck of a lot of tension in my shoulders. It definitely wasn’t good for me.
“I was just thinking about Walt and my parents,” I confessed. There was no point in hiding anything from Enzo. Not when he was the closest thing to a bonded mate I had ever had, and I intended to make all that real and formal as soon as I could. But I’d never actually talked about my feelings before, and I already knew I would be crap at it.
Enzo huffed as he bit into a chicken strip. He chewed and swallowed, shaking his head slightly, washed it down with a swig of what I considered sickly-sweet vanilla soda, then said, “Your parents are a piece of work. Well, your dad mostly. Your papa? I’m still not sure.”
“Papa shifts back and forth,” I said. “Sometimes I think he really cares about us, selflessly, you know. And then something happens to remind me that his one and only allegiance is to Dad. At least they love each other, and they’re bonded.”
Enzo looked surprised. “That’s more than a lot of people can say about their parents,” he said.
I had reached for my water, but nearly choked on it as he spoke. “Sorry,” I said. “I wasn’t trying to rub it in or anything.”
“Oh, I know,” Enzo said with a gracious smile. “But isn’t it funny?”
“Isn’t what funny?”
He made a vague gesture, then said, “Your parents are together and bonded, but they pit their kids against each other,like it’s a competition for their love or something. And yet, most people would look at your family and praise you. All of those onboarding materials I had to look at this morning have some old picture of the four of you looking very cozy.”
“I hate that picture,” I sighed. “We had a big fight at the photographer’s right before they took it.”
“I could tell,” Enzo said. That alarmed me, until he held up a hand and clarified, “It’s not obvious to anyone who doesn’t really know you.”
That didn’t make me feel better.
“Meanwhile,” Enzo went on, grabbing a fry and dipping it in some sort of spicy sauce he seemed to not be able to get enough of, “my family was a wreck from day one. Poor, undereducated, Dad is a deadbeat, and Papa was sick and dying. But Papa and I were so strong together. He loved me so much, loved Jeff, too, not that Jeff ever appreciated it. In my own, weird way, I was really happy with the tiny bit of family I had.”
“I envy you,” I sighed. I really did. There were days when I would have traded wealth and social position for love and approval.
Enzo was about to say more, but as he opened his mouth, an announcement sounded over speakers that were mounted on poles all throughout the market.
“Welcome, everyone, to the Barrington Christmas Market! For those of you getting a little Christmas shopping done, be sure to check out the specials that some of our sponsor merchants are running. Our featured vendor today is Barnaby Snow and his hand-carved, bespoke furniture. Be sure to check out his showroom today, and put in your order now for delivery by Christmas!”
I smiled at the way Enzo perked up to listen to the announcements. I had a pair of Barnaby Snow chairs that were among my most treasured possessions.
“And for those of you looking for something fun to do on your lunch break,” the announcement continued, “come on over to the family pavilion, where we’ve had the snow machine going all morning. We’re having a snowman building contest in fifteen minutes. First prize for the best snowman is two tickets to the New Year’s Eve concert in City Square!”
“Ooh! A concert,” Enzo said, his face turning absolutely beautiful with excitement. “I’ve never been to an actual concert. Or any sort of New Year’s Eve celebration, unless you count Amy and Erica having me over for supper last year.”
“No, that doesn’t count,” I laughed, joining Enzo in gathering up all the leftover food. I would have just shoved it into the bag and binned it, but Enzo slipped it all carefully back into its containers, then stacked it in the cloth bag I’d bought when I realized we would have more than we could carry in our hands. It was clear he valued the leftovers in a way that was foreign to me.
“Come on,” he said once everything was packed away. “Let’s go join the snowman contest.”
I laughed as I got up and followed him. “Isn’t that sort of thing for kids?”
He slung the bag of leftovers over his arm and shrugged. “I don’t know. We should go take a look anyhow, just in case.”
The family pavilion was just on the other side of the food section. I was impressed at the sight of a large, cordoned off area that was filled with actual snow. Sure enough, there was one of those industrial snow making machines that ski resorts used for years without a lot of precipitation tucked very carefully into a corner, where people wouldn’t bother it. It must have been running for hours to create the amount of snow that covered the contest area.
“Hey, hey! It’s not just kids,” Enzo said when he saw the area. “We’re totally entering this.”
Never in a million years would I have seen myself signing up for a snowman-building contest on my lunch break. But then again, I never would have seen myself signing up for a kinky omega auction either, and look how that had turned out.
Enzo and I stashed our things in one of the lockers near the edge of the snow area then joined about six other couples at the edge of the snow.
“What a great turnout for a Monday afternoon,” the cheerful alpha who seemed to be organizing the event said in greeting. “The competition is simple. Your materials are all right in front of you.” He turned and gestured, then said, “Snow! You’ll have ten minutes from when I blow the starting whistle to work with your teammate to create the biggest and most decorative snowman possible. We’ve got sticks, carrots, coal, hats and gloves over to the side there. It’s as simple as that. Any questions? No?” The organizer glanced around just to be sure, then said, “Alright. If you’re ready…go!”
I was up for a little fun, but Enzo whooped and threw himself into the snow with enthusiasm that had me laughing. The manufactured snow was about calf deep and nothing to sneeze at. It wasn’t nice and powdery, like real snow after a thick snowfall, but it would do.
