I frown. “He told me you were trying to work it out after all.”
Her frown matches my own. “When did he tell you that?”
“After your divorce announcement. He called me and said he had good news. That you two were going to counseling and wanted to make it work,” I explain.
A sigh leaves her, and she shakes her head. “We never had that conversation. It was always going to end in divorce. He knew that. He asked if we could be civil to each other for the rest of the year. Specifically, when you were home. I agreed only because he seemed so concerned for your wellbeing.”
“More like was saving face in front of me,” I mutter.
“Or trying to convince himself that things would eventually be okay. It’s hard to face your problems, especially when you’re the one creating the majority of them.” Her smile is faint, tinged with sadness. “Let’s forget about him and focus on your birthday. And Christmas.”
I force her to open her present from me first—the little carved wooden bird I found at that store in Vermont.
“Is it a wren?” she asks as she studies it. “It looks like one.”
“Maybe? Crew found it. Said it reminded him of me,” I admit.
Her expression softens when her gaze meets mine. “I think he really likes you.”
Such an understatement.
“I think so too,” I admit.
“It’s not every day someone buys a very expensive piece of art for someone else, just because they’re friends,” she continues.
“I know. He said he just wanted to make me happy.” I’m feeling misty-eyed just thinking about it.
“Is he kind to you? Honest with you? Does he make you laugh?”
Yes. Yes. Yes.
“He is the very last person I ever imagined myself with,” I say, blinking back the tears. What is with me and crying the last couple of days? I’m so emotional. “But now I can’t imagine my life without him.”
“Ah, darling, I’m so happy for you. And I love my gift.” She smiles down at the wooden bird. It looks so rustic now that it’s in our showcase of an apartment, but hopefully, she really does like it.
“I have more for you.” I hand over a small box with a pair of earrings I found here in the city, and she loves those too.
I open the presents from my parents. Some clothes. A Louis Vuitton scarf with lip prints scattered all over it—I sense a theme here. A couple of gift cards to my favorite stores. A necklace I admired a long time ago that I forgot all about it, which makes it extra special since she remembered and bought it for me.
I’ve unwrapped everything for me except the box from Crew, and I stare at it, letting the anticipation curl through me.
“Aren’t you going to open it?” Mom asks.
My heart starts to thump extra hard when she hands it over. “I almost don’t want to know.”
“Of course you want to know. Don’t be silly.” She waves a hand at me, clearly impatient. She’s enjoyed this week and my gifts almost as much as I have. “Open it.”
I pull the lid off to find another black and white box almost the same size, wrapped with the signature white ribbon and camellia flower that indicates it’s from Chanel.
Oh God, I think I might know what it is.
I pull the lid off. Push back the tissue paper to see a black protective bag surrounded by boxes of lipstick. I pull out the bag, the lipsticks falling to the bottom of the box, and open the drawstring.
“He got you a bag? Oh, he is so, so clever. I love this boy. I do,” Mom says, making me laugh.
I pull the bag out to see it’s the pink one I admired in the store only a couple of days ago. And when I undo the clasp and peek inside, there’s no paper stuffing filling it.
Just box after box of lipstick.
“Is there a note?” Mom asks.
I find it at the very bottom. A small white envelope, as usual. I open it, his familiar handwriting scrawled across the card.
Merry Christmas. I bought you every shade of lipstick Chanel carries, so you can create your own million kisses in your lifetime. Hopefully you’ll share some of those kisses with me.
Love,
Crew
“I’m keeping him,” I announce, making my mom laugh.
“You definitely should,” she says, her gaze on the pink bag sitting on my lap. “He chooses well.”
“I picked out the bag. I told him if I could have any Chanel bag, I wanted it to be pink,” I admit.
“You’ve always loved pink. And the lipsticks. That’s very romantic. He understands you, doesn’t he?”