* * *
“Did you brush your teeth?” Abbey asked Max as he put his things back into his backpack for tomorrow. He was wearing his pajamas with the trains on them, and his socks were bunched up at his ankles.
“Yep,” he said, stuffing his reading book inside and zipping his backpack.
“Wait.” Abbey grabbed the plastic bag off the counter and pulled out the quilt. “Give this to your teacher,” she said, feeling a little joy from her purchase. But she kept her face light for Max’s benefit. “It’s for the class gift basket.”
Max took the quilt and stuffed it in his bag.
“Can we read my bedtime story out here?” Max asked, his eyes roaming the small living area. “I want to be able to see the Christmas tree.”
“Sure,” she said, glad to have the power back on again so they could enjoy it.
In the corner of the room, Abbey had a small live tree with a few ornaments and a couple of strands of colored lights. Max had picked them out. It wasn’t anything spectacular, but in the dark of night, the lights shimmered off the glass of the ornaments and it looked magical. It made her think about the living room at Nick’s. She had planned a traditional small tree in that room, one that Max would enjoy. She was moving into Nick’s tomorrow; maybe they could decorate that tree then. She’d packed them each a fresh bag, figuring she could always come home and switch out their clothes if they needed more. Max should have a tree that was familiar. She couldn’t wait to make some ornaments or a homemade garland for it.
Max ran down the short hallway and returned with a book and one of the blankets from his bed as well. They sat together beneath the lamplight and snuggled up under the blanket.
“Do you think Santa will bring me lots of presents this year? ” he asked and Abbey thought of all the gifts she’d bought with Nick, which were safely hidden away and waiting to be left by Santa.
“Yes.” She smiled down at him, so happy that she’d gotten him what he wanted.
“What are you going to unwrap? You never have presents to unwrap on Christmas morning. It’s just me. That’s not fair.”
“Aw, it’s okay. Grownups don’t get presents like kids do.” She knew that in some families they did, but she didn’t want Max feeling guilty at all. This was supposed to be his special Christmas.
“Grownups need surprises though,” he said.
“You are my surprise and every year that I spend with you watching you open your gifts is a gift for me. Now, what book do you have tonight?”
He handed her his story for the night and they read together until Max could hardly keep his eyes open. Once she put him to bed, she went to the bathroom to check on the sheet music. She’d ripped out the pages from the Christmas carol book and soaked them in tea to give them an aged look, and now they were drying on a plastic sheet in her tub. The sheets were nearly dry.
* * *
The apartment was quiet. Max was asleep in his bed and Abbey had her phone in her hand. It was exactly nine o’clock. Her fingertips were cold and numb from nerves. She couldn’t wait to talk to Nick. All day she’d waited and now, it was finally time. Before she could dial his number, her phone rang.
“Hello?” she said.
“Hi.”
Hearing his voice was the best sound. He hadn’t even been gone a day and she already missed him. She missed the way he looked at her when she surprised him with things she said, the way it felt to wake up with his arm around her after painting, the feel of his hand in hers.
“I only have a few minutes,” he said, and she felt her heart drop into her stomach. “I had to know about my grandmother, but after today, if there’s anything else, just let Richard know. You’re moving in tomorrow, right?”
“Yes.”
“He has my emergency number if it’s required for any reason. Otherwise, I won’t be available.”
“You don’t sound like yourself,” she said. He sounded distant. It was so different than his regular cadence—it was short, choppy.
Nick cleared his throat. “I’m just busy,” he said a little more gently this time. “I’m in the middle of a large acquisition at the same time that I’m house hunting.”
“Oh,” she said.
“So, shall we just get right to it then?” he asked.
“Okay,” she said reluctantly. “But first, why didn’t you go and see Caroline to tell her she was moving in? She said you called.”
“I was in New York.”
“Couldn’t you have told her before you left?”
“Abbey,” he said, his voice sounding tired. “I’m sure you would’ve done things differently, but you aren’t me. I called her. She knows. She took it well.”