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“The mall is that way,” Penelope said, pointing her thumb over her shoulder.
Luke glanced at her from the driver’s seat. “We’re not going to the mall. For this you need… Something different.”
This referred to Michael and Henry’s first Christmas without their father. As their godmother, Penelope wanted to gift the boys with something more meaningful than a twenty dollar bill pressed between a Hallmark greeting card with a generic message. Nothing could make their situation more bearable, but she wanted to channel Will - his thoughtfulness and creativity - to make his presence more palpable. She asked Luke to help, for a second opinion and a masculine point of view.
She questioned her decision as he seemed to drive aimlessly out of the city, but when she realized Old Town Alexandria was his destination, she had to suppress her delight.
The wide, cobblestone sidewalks were lined with trees, patches of snow artfully clinging to the branches, and rows of shops with colorful facades. Each storefront was decorated for the holiday season with its own assemblage of garland and strings of lights. The colors were static or blinked or chased one another across the wire.
In the first store Luke suggested, she found a miniature stargazing set. It included a pocket-sized telescope and a guidebook. “What do you think?” Penelope asked, looking through the small gadget. “Will loved to take them camping.”
“I think you’re looking through the wrong end,” he said, amused, taking the telescope from her to turn it around. “And I think it’s a perfect choice.”
“This is only the first store, though.”
“We can come back,” Luke noted.
She agreed and they moved on. In between shops, he purchased hot chocolate from an outdoor vendor, and they sipped from the paper cups while listening to a group of carolers strolling the road dressed in Victorian costumes.
“This is the one I had in mind,” he told her, stopping short in front of a shop with a stony exterior.
Penelope was surprised that he’d given it any thought. She assumed he’d agreed to help because he was that kind of guy, and he hoped for a free lunch or for her to reciprocate by picking out gifts he could send home to the Bronx for his mother and sister. But he walked her right up to a display of journals - spiral or leather-bound, blank or lined. His eyes searched the rows until he found what he wanted.
“See?” He stood next to her, holding it on the palm of his hand. “Will liked to make things for the boys. And he always left JJ all those notes. They must have so much of that kind of stuff. They can paste things on the pages and,” he paused to open it, “it has prompts to help you write about your memories. Things like that.”
She took the book from him, carefully turning the pages, noting the unusual structure of hidden pockets and pages that unfolded.
“What I was thinking, though,” he said, “is that you could write something at the beginning. Your favorite story about Will or… Anything you want. Maybe fill out random pages so they have, you know, little surprises.”
Penelope was surprised by the tell-tale signs of tears. The pressure at her temples and behind her eyes. Blurred vision. A knot pulled tighter and tighter in her chest with every breath. “That’s… You really thought this through?”
He shrugged his shoulders up toward his ears. “You asked for my help.”
She purchased two bespoke journals and almost bought a hand-cranked, flipbook-type photo frame that Luke pointed out. Every suggestion he made, from personalized mementos to fleece blankets, was carefully thought through.
They browsed a candy store, and while they hovered over glass jars of candy canes and sugar-dusted gummy trees, the shop owner pointed out they were standing under mistletoe. Penelope started to say, “Oh, we’re not,” but the words snagged in her throat when Luke bent to press a chaste kiss to her cheek. She held her hand there, over the warmth. The tingle. The light scratch of the thin beard he sported through the winter.
The tip of his nose was red by the time they circled back to the first shop to purchase the miniature stargazing kits. Penelope hooked her arm around his and said, “Come on, Rudolph. I’ll buy lunch.”
Over grilled cheese sandwiches and a shared plate of French fries, they talked about happy and unpleasant memories of Christmases past. The best and most hilarious gifts they had ever received. Favorite holiday treats. And during a companionable silence, she felt a shared sense of melancholy that always seemed to hover in between the joys of that time of year. It wasn’t heavy or overtly sad. Nostalgia could be bittersweet, and she knew Luke understood that. Carried it with him. It was probably why he’d had such keen insight on what to give Michael and Henry for a happy holiday that was burdened by despair.
The presents were wrapped and placed underneath Rossi’s magnificent tree. He wanted to host a cozy, casual gathering, and everyone decided to wear pajamas, or close to it.
Luke wore soft, grey athletic pants paired with a white cotton tee and a dark, zippered hoodie, and no one was surprised by the bedazzled, Santa-suit onesie Penelope had on. She managed to appear wholesome and adorable, with a twinkle in her eye that seemed to promise the outfit could suddenly be sinfully sexy once the children had gone home to their beds.
The evening was silly and sad in equal measure. But even the moments of grief were touched by a sense of togetherness and shared loss. She attributed the ache in her chest to that, but gradually, Penelope had to admit she was overwhelmed by Luke. She was consumed by a strange sensation of regret that gave way to fear, then desire, looping back around to sorrow and intense loneliness.
The feeling was unwelcome. It was as if a blinding light had begun to shine on Luke. A glow only she could see. A bright sphere of his effortless kindness and unholy handsomeness and her misguided dismissal of him. Torturing her with clarity and the cost of finally seeing him.
“Are you okay?”
The voice came from behind her. She turned to face a concerned-looking Tara, but Luke was not far, wearing the same expression.
“I’m f- I just need-” Penelope spun, fleeing for the stairs. She moved with purpose but had no destination in mind.
She ducked into a room. Particles of dust danced in the shaft of light from the hallway, tickling her nose. The space was clearly unused. She found a lamp, switched it on, and surveyed piles of old books and boxes. Overflow from Rossi’s office, she guessed, with only a folding chair.
She sat down and willed her pulse to slow. Her breath hitched when Luke appeared in the doorway. She dragged the back of her hand across each cheek and sniffled. “Hi.”
“Hi,” he responded, entering the room, silently asking for permission to close the door.
Penelope nodded.
“You want to talk?”
She shrugged.
He walked closer. He picked up an empty crate and turned it over, making a seat of it. It was too small; his long legs protruded toward her, knees slanted upward, and the rest of him was down too low. Distorted. Almost comical, he knew, because of the way one corner of her mouth twitched up into a brief smile. “This has been a lot, I know. The boys were emotional, but I hope you don’t regret the gifts you-”
“No,” she said. “It’s not that.” She huffed a laugh.
“What?”
“The gifts I gave,” she whispered. “I should have put your name on them.”
He pulled a face, refuting the claim.
“No, really, Luke. I wouldn’t have-” An image flashed behind her eyes, from a world where her dinner date with Luke had been the start of something new and bold and bright. A world where they were a pair, writing their names on the same gift tags and cards. Penelope and Luke. Luke and Penelope. Roxy and Sergio would be included sometimes, too.
He tilted his head, anticipating the rest of her statement. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”
Penelope stiffened when his arm extended, his hand raised to first check the temperature of her forehead with the back of his hand and then her cheek. She leaned into his touch. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her entire body lilted sideways when he abruptly drew his hand away as though he’d been scorched. She straightened her spine and popped up from the chair. Her lips formed words that she couldn’t vocalize.
He would have stood, too, but the height of his seat made it a challenge.
“Do you ever…” She noticed his struggle and offered her hand. He took it for leverage, but when he stood, he was too close. Or not close enough. Either way, she became more flustered, nearly knocking the folding chair over as she backed away.
“Do I ever what?” Luke prodded, turning, following her. Her back was to him, but he could tell she was wringing her hands.
“Nothing.” She bolted for the door. “We should get back.”
He insisted on driving her home and walking her up to the door. But on the stairs, he paused, leaning against the concrete bannister. “What did you want to ask me? Before? Do I ever…”
Penelope mirrored his stance, two feet of cold air between them. “I don’t know. I guess I was… I was looking around tonight, thinking about JJ and the boys. And Rossi. I mean, he misses Krystall so, so much, but he brought everyone together at his house. Because the holidays are a time to be with the people you love. The people who are here. But I felt… I felt like something was missing. For me.” She covered her face with her hands, groaning.
Luke drew closer. He gently grasped her wrists and tugged her hands away. “You miss Will, too. And you’re thinking about your-”
“No, you don’t-” She sighed, and the sound manifested in the air. A long puff of smoke that dissipated between them. “Do you ever think about how, if one thing had gone differently? One night. One dinner. One conversation. How different would your life be?”
He bit back a grin. “All the time,” he whispered, but he could tell she didn’t understand they were both referring to the same thing. To their date. To each other.
“I realized something today, and I’m afraid it’s too late. I’m too late.”
“You’re not.”
She scoffed.
Luke shifted one foot to a lower step, putting his face level with hers. He raised his hands to frame her face, thumbs pressed close to the corners of her mouth.
She felt safe and precarious. The bannister was solid behind her, but it felt like she was teetering on the edge of something. It was cold all around them, but heat swarmed her body. She was perfectly still but her heart thundered in her chest. He seemed more at ease. Not unbothered but confident.
It became clear to her then - Luke had always known it was a mistake to let fear sabotage their feelings. He was standing there, waiting for her to catch up. To catch her.
Penelope’s lips trembled into a smile. She let go of regret and trepidation, grabbing the lapels of his coat, sinking against him. Their mouths collided and the kiss intensified quickly, hands grasping and clawing. But desperation soon ceded to tenderness, and they embraced, arms locked around one another. Her face buried in the crook of his neck and his cheek pressed against the softness of her hair.
“I really thought I was too late,” she whispered.
His breath was warm at her scalp.
“This isn’t happening because it’s Christmas, right? The most magical time of the year. With the lights and-”
Luke grasped her hips and pushed away from her only enough to be able to look her in the eyes. “No,” he said, firm. “Not for me.”
“Me either. Although,” she noted, “this is shaping up to be a much happier holiday than I expected.”
He smiled, agreeing with the sentiment.
“Do you have time for a nightcap?” she asked. “I have the most amazing hot cocoa.”
He laughed softly. “That sounds great,” he said, and they both shifted, walking arm in arm up to the door.
Inside, she felt him tug her backward, away from the entrance to her apartment. “Uh, I’m this way,” she said, pointing her thumb over her shoulder. But he smiled, tipping his head back, drawing her attention to a sprig of mistletoe hanging above. He’d proven to have a remarkable sense of direction, knowing where to go before she did, and Penelope followed him, falling into a sweet, sultry kiss.