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"Can I ask how she died?"
"Aneurysm," I said. "It happened really fast."
"Poor Cormac," April said, her voice sad and small.
"I know. It was really hard. He's doing okay, though." We exchanged a glance, and I felt a little tug in my chest at the shine in April's eyes, the sad set of her mouth as she thought about my brother's situation. "You hungry?" I asked, hoping to make her smile again.
"Starving," she said as she turned to follow me. I led her to the dining room, and then excused myself to get the steak. When I returned, she stood exactly where I’d left her, staring around with her mouth slightly open. "Did you invite some other people too?"
I set the steaks down. "Um. No, just you."
"But, I mean…well, this is a lot."
"I wasn't sure what you liked." I felt sheepish suddenly. Had I made an error here? Was she overwhelmed? Did she think it was some kind of ridiculous show of wealth, maybe? "I just wanted to make sure…" I trailed off.
April's open mouth stretched wide into a grin. "This is all for me?" She fastened me with a questioning gaze, the broad smile growing even wider. "Seriously?"
I nodded, still off balance.
"Oh my god, this is amazing!" She picked up a plate, and began taking bits from every dish on the table. "How did you know I love a buffet?"
Relief and pride surged through me. "You do?"
She shot the grin at me again and my blood warmed. God, she was pretty. "Yeah. I'm horrible with menus. I can never decide, or I end up ordering things I don't mean to—like the other night at the Shack." She gave me an earnest look and lowered her voice. "It's a real problem."
"Well, I'm glad I guessed right then."
"This is amazing."
We took our food back into the living room by the fire, which glowed with gas flames that danced blue and orange. There was a small Christmas tree in the corner—nothing compared to the monstrous Christopher, who stood in the parlor—but a lovely little tree, glittering with lights and spreading pine scent through the space.
We ate in silence for a few minutes, and I poured a bottle of red wine and then set it on the table between us.
"Thank you," April said, after a few bites.
"You're welcome." I was battling a feeling welling up inside me—a kind of comfortable acceptance, a familiarity. It was too soon to feel that way, I knew, but there it was.
She tilted her head to one side. "Well, good, but I didn't even tell you what I was thanking you for." A light laugh accompanied this, and my stomach tightened a bit. Everything she did appealed to me—it had to be chemical.
“Sorry, my bad," I said. "Proceed."
"I want to thank you for a couple things," she said, setting down her plate and picking up her wine glass. "One, for giving me a chance and agreeing to do the show. It really means a lot to me. I know it's silly. It's just some decorations…but you really went all out, and it will probably save my job. So thank you."
I felt a rush of stupid happiness, just seeing her happy. I raised my glass and inclined my head.
"And also, for being so welcoming. It's nice to feel like I have a friend here. I don't really acknowledge the holidays, like I told you, but it's kind of a lonely time of year, you know? So it's nice to have some company—someone to hang out with."
"I get it," I said. I thought about my own Christmas the previous year. My parents were gone, and Cormac had just lost Linda and didn't want company. I had stayed in the small apartment I’d rented for myself when everything had blown up with my relationship, and I’d spent Christmas Eve and day—and all the way through New Year's, if you wanted the truth—in a whiskey-fueled haze, feeling sorry for myself and trying to forget the world even existed. "It's nice having you here."
She nodded, and our eyes locked for a long minute, sparks flinging through the space between us and the tightening in my stomach turning to a full-blown storm of anticipation.
We ate slowly, talking and laughing as we exchanged stories about living in California, places we’d each been before coming here. We cleared the plates after dinner, put away the plentiful leftovers and then sat by the fire again, this time together on the couch.
"So filming happens…when?" I asked.
"Your house?" April asked, and I nodded. "Yours will be last. We did one today, and we'll do two more this week. And then that film has to go back for review and we'll start again on the 13th. Your house is scheduled for the 16th."
"Okay," I said, glad to hear April would be in town for a couple of weeks. "And then what will you do? For the actual holidays, I mean?"
