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I snorted. “Bullshit. You have plenty of clothes, some with tags still on them.”
“Look who’s talking,” Lincoln said, holding up the dress with the white tags still dangling from the side.
“I bought that a month ago,” I defended, my cheeks flushing. “I haven’t had a chance to wear it yet.”
“How about we take it to Palm Springs with us? We could celebrate the New Year at a party. I have a few friends there,” Lincoln suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye.
“Who?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.
“If I tell you, you’ll scream your head off.”
“Why? Are they famous?” I asked, my voice tinged with excitement.
“A couple are.”
“Stop teasing me,” I urged, impatience creeping into my tone.
Lincoln scratched his jaw, trying to hide his grin. “I’m not kidding.”
“Who then?” I pressed.
“Tristan Rogers.”
My mouth dropped open. “You are not. How do you know him?”
“Dad did renovations on his apartment here in New York. We met, had a good conversation, and now every time he comes here, we hang out. When I go to LA, we do the same.”
“Why am I just hearing about this now?” I asked, starstruck.
“I didn’t want to be a braggart,” Lincoln replied with a shrug.
“You’re already a terrible braggart,” I retorted.
Lincoln’s jaw dropped. “I am not!”
“You are, and you know it, but I love you anyway,” I said, smiling.
Lincoln shook his head and began to unpack his green duffel bag. He methodically placed his underwear, t-shirts, and socks into the dresser, then hung up his dress shirts and slacks with care. I watched from the bed, a mixture of amusement and anticipation on my face.
“I have something else for you, but I’ll wait until you finish unpacking,” I said, my voice low and teasing.
Lincoln paused, looking at her with a puzzled expression. “What do you have?”
“Be patient,” I replied, my eyes sparkling with mischief.
He dropped the duffel on the floor of her closet and walked over to her, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Tell me, sweet Erika.”
“It’s nothing,” I said, though her stomach churned with nerves. I had never done this for anyone before, and I wasn’t sure if I was ready.
He straightened, and I went to my purse, my fingers trembling slightly as I pulled out the small object. Holding my fist out to him. “This is for you.”
“Are you going to open it and let me see?” Lincoln asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
I turned my fist and opened it, revealing a brass key resting in my palm. Lincoln’s eyes widened as he bit his bottom lip, deep in thought.
“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice tinged with emotion.
“I’ve never been surer of anything in my life,” I said, my voice steady despite the fluttering in my chest. “I want to give you what you’ve given me.”
