“You didn’t need to do this.”
“Giving a present isn’t about needing to.” Zebb looks directly at me. “Or it shouldn’t be. Gift giving should be a want. As in, I wanted to give you something.” He knows my feelings about gift giving and the obligation of it during the holidays.
But I understand what he’s saying and guilt washes over me. “I don’t have anything for you.” My brows pinch. “What kind of lady friend am I?”
I don’t know what I’d give him of monetary value.
“You’re my girlfriend, and I don’t need things that come in a box from you.” He sets the package in my lap, folds down to the cushion next to me and takes my hand, pressing kisses to my knuckles and then my palm.
I’m stunned by the ‘you’re my girlfriend’ comment and stare at the brightly wrapped package is if it might bite me.
“I haven’t received an actual present in a long time.” The camper toy he gave me was the first present in wrapping paper I’d received in decades. My father used to send gift cards, which I didn’t mind. Now he just sends money, which is still generous, but a statement to his feelings. He won’t take the time to find something personal. He doesn’t know me well enough to give me something meaningful.
“Open it,” Zebb mutters against my wrist, which he tenderly kisses before releasing my arm.
Slowly, I unwrap the package, taking more care than when I ripped the paper off the birthday present he’d given me. I slide open the box and push aside the tissue paper.
A single mitten.
I glance up at him, confused.
“Serendipity. You like the movie because it’s about lovers fated to meet again. This is a serendipity mitten.”
I stare down at the fluffy hand warmer. “In the movie, it was a black glove.” I’m not ungrateful just still processing what this means.
“This is our story, Eva. You never have mittens. But now you have me. We’re a pair which means we talk to each other when things are tough. We count on one another for warmth, comfort, and holding hands.” Zebb lifts the mitten and slips it onto my hand.
“I’m your serendipity and you’re mine.”
14
We make love, as Zebb calls it, one more time before morning with tongue and teeth and exploring fingers. The entire experience is sensual and maddening as I realize how much I’ve missed his body and him.
Then I tell myself, no more looking back. The future awaits us, and I have some changes to make.
We linger in my kitchen before Zebb will leave and I head to work. He picks up a packet of paper on my kitchen island.
“What’s this?”
I take the thick stack from his hand. “It’s an old business plan. I’d been reviewing it.” I shrug. “I always wanted to be my own boss. I had a ten-year plan, but I might want to start that plan sooner rather than later.”
“This is exciting.” Zebb pulls the papers back from me and thumbs through the pages. “What do you hope to open?”
“While retail can be difficult, I still want a specialty shop. Something that has novelty books, homemade soaps and bath products. Maybe some housewares and boutique-like clothing. I was actually thinking of making it not-for-profit and donating the proceeds to a worthy organization.”
Zebb’s head pops up. “Eva, that’s incredible. Do you know where you’d put it? What you’d call it? When would you open if you did it sooner?”
I laugh at his enthusiasm. “I don’t know. That’s one reason why I was reviewing the plan. Some of my initial ideas have changed after working at Ashford’s for so long. I’d even change the business name. If I can work out a loan and find a location, I’d love to open by next Christmas.” Just admitting all that makes it feel equal parts impossible and exciting.
“I absolutely think you should do this.” Zebb tosses the plan back to the island. “I’ll help you in any way I can.” He pulls me into his arms and kisses me. Just when I think I might get used to his kisses, he kisses me in a new way, and I fall for him all over again.
I’ll never take kissing this man for granted.
+ + +
When I walk into Ashford’s, I’m on a high from Zebb-sex and his enthusiasm for my business plan. Maybe being forty means it’s time for a change. That’s something Dr. Seuss should have written in a more adult book.
Maybe being forty, he thought, shouldn’t make me feel blue.