Tangled In Strings

Chapter Thirty-Two

Christmas in New York.

Christmas with Giovanni in New York.

There's nothing like it.

It's still a few weeks away, but the crowds have swarmed the streets and stores, determined to snatch up the good gifts before they are all gone. The storefronts are decorated to attract the most festive holiday-goers, laced with tinseled garland, and colorful flashing lights. Sidewalks are consumed by families, suits, hats, gloves, scarves. Lampposts are swirled in flashy decorations, dangling snowflakes. As you pass by, cheerful music sings into the streets, awakening the soul.

Last year was the first year Christmas meant anything to me, truly. I was unsure of everything. Him, me, whatever it was we had started. I missed all of this in my uncertainty, wondering how soon it would be gone. But with Giovanni's hand in mine right now as we maneuver through the crowded sidewalks, and the feel of the genuine gold ring of his against my skin, I'm reassured that this is real, and forever—and it makes the joy of the season something I can handle, and appreciate...bask in for the first time in my life.

I'm terrible at picking out gifts, and it turns out, so is he, which made shopping fun. No doubt the things we picked out for our friends and his family will be underwhelming, but we scoured the stores in mere minutes, only having to handle the torture for a short amount of time. It's a rare occasion that either of us appears in public, mostly because the news coverage we received was so consuming for months after the pregnancy release. Sam is leading our way, Raymond directly behind us, refusing to let anyone through, tense because we've been spotted by a few pedestrians.

When it begins to snow, coming down between the high-rises in sharp swoops of frozen wind, and tiny snowflakes, we dart into a small coffee shop, while Raymond and Sam head off to retrieve Jimmy with the car.

"Five hot coffees, please," Giovanni orders to the barista. I smile at his thought of them.

"It's on us. We're huge fans," the man says, glancing over at the other girl perched behind the counter, clearly flustered. Giovanni insists, handing over the cash. We both take the warm foam cups they extend. His hands are large, and can somehow manage holding two wedged between his slender fingers.

Knowing they may be a while, we find two seats by the window, squeezing between the other guests, mainly women, who blush and then pale when they catch sight of my husband. My mouth widens with pride when he exhales with a smile, claiming the back of my neck to kiss me chastely, settled in our own natural rhythm.

"Today was fun," I confess, holding the stomach that is weighing down my whole body.

"I find it so hard to believe that you never went out to do Christmas shopping before."

The warm trickle of coffee cascading through my throat soothes the tremors going through me. I reach out, brushing snowflakes from Giovanni's coat. "Rebecca's always been in charge of it. Money or baskets...the easy stuff."

"You're telling me you sent a basket to Norman?" he asks, chuckling. I nod, biting my lip in embarrassment.

"Wine and cheese."

"Oh, Scar."

I groan, blushing. "Hey, he never complained."

"Well, Rebecca might like the espresso maker you got her this time then."

"I really hope she likes something other than lattes. She may not even like espresso."

He shrugs. "Well, it will look nice in the apartment?"

I nod in agreement, ticking his coffee cup with my own. "It will look nice in the apartment. Anyway, if she doesn't, she could always re-gift it. That's a thing, right?"