Page 92 of Wrapped with a Beau

Anita’s waiting for his answer, too, as she pulls cinnamon rolls from the oven, baby-blue snowman mitts padding her hands. The scent of rich browned butter and caramelized brown sugar is intoxicating.

“Tomorrow,” says Ves, unable to muster a smile in return.

“Did everything that you wanted?” Dave asks lightly as he carefully rotates the sausage.

“Yeah, explored the shops in town. Visited the Christmas Market. Did all the touristy things. I’m glad I stayed for the Winter Festival, got to meet you all.”

But they both know what Dave was really asking.

Elisha slips back into the room just as everything is being pulled out of the oven. She’s changed into a buffalo-check miniskirt, knee-high black socks, and a tucked-in black turtleneck. “Oh my god, Dad, Gramps, all this smells amazing!” She grabs a plate of maple-bacon scones and joins them at the table, sitting next to Ves.

“You look beautiful,” he says.

She grins. “So do you.” She cups his cheek, running the soft pad of her thumb over his cheekbone. “Christmas is a good look on you. You seem happy.”

He catches her hand, laces their fingers together. “It’s not Christmas that makes me happy,” he replies in a voice too low for anyone else to hear.

“Don’t stand on ceremony,” Anita says with a laugh, pouring out cups of steaming coffee. “Help yourselves, everyone!”

They all open presents as they eat, which is new to Ves. When he was growing up, presents were opened only after a formal breakfast, and with Arun’s family’s, first thing upon waking up. As a kid and teenager, he’d spent many winter breaks at their house, and Arun’s younger siblings would drag everyone out of bed without even a chance to brush their hair or teeth to gather around the tree.

Dave shovels a scone in his mouth and benevolently waves a hand. “Ves, Elisha, go on.”

Even in this, they’re total opposites. Elisha rips into the wrapping paper with abandon, while Ves carefully slides his finger under the tape to wiggle it loose.

“Writers’ Tears Irish whiskey?” Ves holds it up by the neck, grinning. “I can guess who this is from.”

Dave guffaws. “Will it help you write? Probably not. Will it make the writing more pleasurable? Almost undoubtedly.”

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“My turn,” announces Anita, handing a lumpy present to her husband, who tears into it.

Jamie holds up a brand-new NYU sweatshirt. “You shouldn’t have!”

“I’m going to throw out your old ratty one.”

“You really shouldn’t have,” he says with a long-suffering sigh that seems more playful than put out.

Jamie promptly dons both his new sweatshirt and a gorgeous plush robe before diving into the manual for his top-of-the-line air fryer.

Dave is delighted with the new tools and beverage refrigerator for his workshop, a beard grooming kit, and, from Ves, an engraved flask.

Anita tears up at the diamond solitaire necklace and matching bracelet, wine subscription, and, from Ves, a couples spa certificate.

Elisha gets gold huggie earrings and a black moto jacket from her parents, a Sephora gift card from her grandpa, upcoming concert tickets from Solana and Adam, and a red money-envelope adorned with gold foil embellishments from her grandparents in Goa.

Between bites of a perfectly roasted squash-and-bacon hash, Ves opens his gifts: he gets a cozy cream cardigan with beautiful tortoiseshell buttons from Anita and Jamie, along with an assortment of their homemade candy from the Chocolate Mouse and a few small, fluffy cat toys. Elisha surprises him with Solana’s present, a set of pencils with funny sayings on them and a faux leather journal. Waiting for him in the city are new AirPods from Arun and a temperature-controlled mug from Cade—Arun is truly hopeless at keeping secrets that aren’t work-related.

When his phone rings, he’s enjoying himself so much with the Rowes that he almost doesn’t hear it. “I have to take this. It’s my sister,” he explains. Everyone falls considerately silent as he answers.

“Merry Christmas, Ves!” she shrieks down the line. He hears both his father and stepmother repeat the greeting in the background, more perfunctory than cheery.

He’s bemused at his sister’s exuberance. “Merry Christmas, Hans. Did you have fun skiing?”

“Yeah! Did you get good presents?” she wants to know.

“The best,” he confirms.

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