“The other day... Look, I accused you of some pretty shitty things. I’m sorry.” It’s like it’s a word that he doesn’t have much experience forming with his mouth, and he has to concentrate to get it out. “I can’t promise I won’t fuck everything up again. I probably will, actually. But can you give me the chance to try? If words don’t convince you, I am willing to dedicate my tongue to a more passionate solution.”
There’s the smirk. I knew it couldn’t hide for long. Only Gavin could turn a romantic apology into a proposition for sex, but it’s so totally him that I can’t quite keep a little smile from forming on my face.
He holds up a hand like he just remembers something. “Wait, I got you something else too. Call it a peace offering.” He picks up a boxy package in brown paper with a pretty green bow from a low table near the chairs. “I think you’ll like it.”
Looking around, I try to figure out where to put the roses. Apparently, he’s thought of that too, since he pulls a vase from a bookshelf next to him. I arch my eyebrow at him in surprise and he laughs. “Don’t look at me. Captain Chuck suggested it. He’s smarter than he looks.”
“Maybe he’s just apologized to more women,” I joke.
“Maybe.” Gavin trades me the package for the flowers.
The brown wrapping is simple, but it feels like quality. The ribbon too, it’s actual velvet and hand tied. No cheap drugstore bow with a square of sticky tape like usual. This is all probably normal for Gavin, but I’ve never held a gift that felt so opulent before. I look up at him while he sets the vase down on the low table. “What is this?”
“Open it and see.”
For reasons I can’t explain, my heart starts pounding rapidly, like it knows there’s something special in there. I’m almost afraid to open it and find out, spoiling the magic. I force myself to take my time, untying the ribbon and carefully pulling the tape that holds the wrapping together. Inside is an unmarked box, and in it, another wrapper in softer paper, so thin that I see the outline of the present through it. It’s a book, but...
I pull the wrapper aside and gasp. It’s a book bound in leather. It looks ancient. Stamped into the cover is the title, “Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.” By Lewis Carroll. Very gently, I open it, taking care not to damage the pages, marveling at the beautiful images and the pretty type.
“It’s from the first print run. I think it might have been rebound at some point, but everything else is original. I figured you could use a book to start your fancy library with.”
I hear his voice, but I barely absorb what he’s saying while I leaf through the book. It’s so beautiful. “Gavin...” I flip to the title page. 1865. He’s not kidding. It must be worth a fortune. “This is amazing, but I can’t take it. It’s too much. And where did you get it?” As soon as I ask, I remember the helicopter. “Wait, this is what the helicopter was here for? You airlifted a book for me?”
“And the flowers. I wasn’t exactly going to find what I was looking for between the postcards and the fridge magnets in the gift shop.” His voice is smug, like what else would you do if you’re trapped at sea and need a grand gesture? It doesn’t hurt that he knows he nailed the gift just about perfectly.
Shaking, I carefully put the book back in its box and set it on the table next to the roses. “I’m afraid to touch it.” I turn to face him and find him a lot closer than I expect. He looks like the cat that got the canary. “What if I break it?”
“Then we’ll get another book, but you won’t. Who else will take as good care of it?” Reaching out, he puts his finger under my chin and lifts, forcing me to look into his eyes. Suddenly, I’m out of breath, my heart thundering in my chest. He leans closer. “It’s just paper. What are you afraid of?”
I tear away from him, turning my back. It’s surprising how hard I find it. “Gavin, that paper is probably worth more than I am.”
“Impossible.” His breath is hot against the back of my neck. “What are you really afraid of?”
“You,” I whisper. “You can’t accuse me of using you to get things, and then give me things to fix it. How do I know you won’t use it against me?”
“I guess you don’t.” His frank answer throws me off. “Forgive me or don’t. I want you to have the book, either way. It’s not a trade. I can’t imagine that it could possibly be in any better hands than yours, and a trip as crazy as this one deserves something special as a reminder.”