“What do you want from Santa Claus, Ty?” My mother asked as she set a piece of sourdough bread on Tyler’s plate and then passed the basket to Dad.
Tyler was so preoccupied with the model ship that my mother had to ask him twice.
He jerked a shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe my own tablet. I always have to ask my mom for hers.”
“What happened to wanting toys for Christmas?” Father shook his head and spread butter on his bread. “Times have changed.”
“What do you want for Christmas?” Tyler glanced between his grandparents.
“I already got mine,” my mother said. “I’m here with my two lovely daughters and my only grandson. I wonder if I’ll get another one.” Mom looked at me.
My mother never pressured me to get married, but once in a while she would make comments like that.
I raised my hands in surrender. “I’m not married so don’t ask.”
“Anyone special?” my father asked.
Before I could answer, Tyler tugged my mother’s blazer. “Where do babies come from? How do you make a baby?”
The four of us looked at each other and laughed.
“Oh, look Ty,” I said to distract him. No one was going to answer him, anyway. “Did you see the Christmas tree? Isn’t it beautiful?”
“I like the lights hanging down the windows.” Tyler pointed with his ship. “We don’t have those at our house.”
“Maybe next year.”
“Are you coming next year?”
“Of course. Last year was different. I was really busy at work. But I promise to see you every Christmas.”
“Promise?”
“I pinky promise to the unicorns, rainbows, and all the sparkling things.”
The latter part came out without thought. Tyler pinched his eyebrows, looking baffled. Bridget would understand. My heart hurt more than it should.
I just needed time. Time would mend all things.
The waiter brought us our meals, left, then came back with a bottle of wine.
“I don’t think we ordered that,” Father said hesitantly to the waiter.
“No, you didn’t, but your friend told me to open the finest wine for this table.”
“Who?” Mother asked. With her fork in one hand and her knife in the other, she looked dangerous.
“Mr. Medici.”
I shot my gaze to Abby and then glanced around from the front to the back of the restaurant. Many tables were occupied, but he was nowhere to be seen. I wondered if my sister messaged him to let him know we were here. She had been suspiciously texting someone. But why would she? He didn’t care what I was doing tonight.
“Is Mr. Medici here?” I asked.
“Yes. He’s in one of the private rooms.” He waved a hand toward the back.
“Well, you can take it back and tell—”
Abby covered my mouth. “Please tell him we said thank you.”
The waiter poured the wine and left.
“Who’s Mr. Medici?” Father took a bite of his steak. “This is delicious.”
“Slow down.” Mother patted his arm.
Father ignored Mother and drank his wine and smacked his lips. “Wow. This is very good. Who is Mr. Medici? Did you already answer that?”
“No one,” Abby and I answered hastily at the same time.
“How can he be no one?” Father scooped up some mashed potatoes into his mouth. “Is he Kate’s latest? Is he that guy who cheated on her?”
“No, Dad.” I ran a hand down my face and turned to Abby. “Can you go thank Lee? I don’t want to see him.”
Abby glared at me and whispered, “Are you sure he was trying to set you up with his friend? He wouldn’t have sent wine over if that was the case.”
“It doesn’t matter.” My chest rose and fell with a deep breath. “I’m leaving in three days. I need to get back to Los Angeles.”
I also didn’t want to know who he was having dinner with. If he were there with Bridget, she would have seen Tyler and would have wanted to stop by.
My sister pinched her lips, contemplating. “Fine. If you don’t care then what’s so hard about thanking him?”
To be honest, I didn’t have an answer.
“Did you say who Mr. Medici is?” Father gulped his wine down and poured himself another glass.
I wanted to change the topic. “Did you take your high blood pressure medicine, Dad?”
He sliced another piece of his steak. “Yes. This morning. Your mother always reminds me.” He stroked her cheek, his loving gaze tender and sweet.
My parents had been married more than thirty years. Yes, they’d had their ups and downs like all couples, but their love was strong. I hoped to find a love like theirs one day. I wished that for Abby as well.
“I’ll be right back. I’m going to the restroom.” I placed my cloth napkin on my seat and left.
As I passed by the Christmas tree, past the window with pretty lights, and passed tables occupied with couples having romantic dinners, I prayed I wouldn’t run into Lee. As long as Lee didn’t come out of his private room, all would be just fine.
I halted short of the restroom when a door opened, blocking my way.
Lee stepped out. My heart somersaulted. I felt like I was going to have a heart attack. Either he had seen me coming this way or it was pure coincidence. But the way he rushed indicated it was likely the first.
“Kate—” he began, but I unintentionally cut him off.
“Hello, Lee.” Nervousness took over me. Act natural. Steady the pulse. You can do this. “Thank you for the wine. That was very sweet of you, but you didn’t have to do that. I was going to stop by to thank you at your table, but I didn’t know where you were seated.”
“I’m in that room.” He pointed to the closed door. “You can’t see me from the outside, but I can see out. Anyway, it’s my pleasure. Your parents?”
“Yes. They just got back from the cruise. They’ll be here for another week.”
Why did he close the door? Does he not want me to see his date?
I had to stop torturing myself. I’d only known him for two weeks, and I couldn’t believe I had fallen for him. I kept replaying the painting, playful fight incident, and that almost-kiss.
Our eyes locked briefly in the silence that fell between us and I looked away. He had such soulful, beautiful eyes. I could lose myself in them.
Lee took a step closer. When I retreated, my heel touched the wall. He took another step, his eyes darkening with something I couldn’t understand. But his expression reminded me of our almost kiss in the painting room.
“Bridget misses you,” he whispered, his gaze piercing.
If he had said he missed me, I would’ve kissed him. But I wasn’t sure if I was reading this situation right.
“I miss her too,” I said breathlessly.
A man walked out of the restroom, breaking our moment. Then a mother and her toddler shouldered between us to pass by.
Lee stood closer than before, our feet inches apart, with his hands shoved in his front pockets. “Would it be okay if Bridget calls you? She didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.”
The ache knotted tighter and I swallowed hard. “Yes, of course. You still have my number, right?”