Page 129 of Nowhere to Hide
We sit.
Ivy sits first, nearest to Seb, because she’s been orbiting him all night like a predator sizing up prey. So far, she’s refilled his cup when it was already full, adjusted the hat she jammed on his head, and bumped his shoulder to get past when there was a clear three feet of space.
And, of course, Seb hasn’t noticed a single second of it.
But I have.
I keep it to myself, and the Secret Santa starts to go around, Seb handing each package out and reading the names off the tags like he’s calling roll. He hands Luca the first package, then watches as Luca tears it open and holds up a fire extinguisher.
“For the next time you cremate the apple pies,” Theo says. “Or the garlic bread…”
Luca grins, his eyes bright. “This is the most thoughtful gift I’ve ever gotten.”
“That’s genuinely sad,” I tell him.
“Somebody looked at my life and thought, this man needs help,” he says. “I feel seen.”
Theo opens the next gift, and laughs. “Ballroom dancing lessons… Niko, was this you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Niko pauses. “But it has good reviews.”
Niko is next, and he unfolds himself from the armchair, accepts a small flat box, and opens it like he’s defusing it. It’s a mood ring, and when he slides it onto his finger and holds it to the light, the stone goes from black to a deep, ominous green.
“What does green mean?” Niko says, flat.
“Repressed longing,” I say, making it up on the spot.
Luca makes a noise like a dying kettle and slides down the wall onto the floor, and that’s the end of him for about ninety seconds. Niko takes the ring off and puts it on a different finger. Green again. Luca wheezes from the floor.
“Hale,” Seb says, tossing a package to Rowan.
Rowan sits on the arm of the couch beside me, his thigh warm against my shoulder, and unwraps a label maker. A proper one, with a cartridge already loaded. He turns it over. He turns it over again. He does not put it down.
“No,” I say.
“I didn’t say anything,” he says.
“I know what your face is doing.”
“My face is doing nothing.”
“You’re already thinking about labeling the spice rack.”
He sets it on the coffee table with both hands. “Later,” he says.
“I’m next,” Seb says.
“Open it,” Ivy says, bright and pointed enough that I glance at her.
He opens it — a sprig of mistletoe, tied with red ribbon.
I keep watching Ivy as Seb leaves it on the side table and reaches past her for a handful of chips. This is the first time I’ve ever seen her speechless, a look so out of place that I have to press my lips together to keep from laughing.
After the gifts, the chaos thins. Somebody swaps the playlist to something with a beat, and Luca objects to no avail. Niko tries the ring one last time, gets green, and removes it for good. The tree leans a little farther.
Rowan drops down onto the cushion beside me, and the dip of it presses my shoulder into his chest. He takes my hand, turns it palm up, and folds something into it. It’s small and warm, and when I look down, it’s a key.
I look at it, then at him.
