61. Lucy
Lucy
Iclimb out of bed and walk to his closet. I grab the small gift-wrapped package I hid there last week.
I hand it to him. “I got you something for Christmas. Well, a couple of things. This is your first gift.”
Still smiling, he sits up and tears off the wrapping paper. His smile fades, and his eyes widen as he looks at the framed photo. It’s a picture of the two of us on the couch downstairs. Wally’s cuddled between us. I’m laughing, and Leo is looking at me, smiling.
“Briar took that photo of us the night of my birthday party,” I say. “I thought you might like it.”
I hold my breath as I watch him. His gaze focuses on the image for a long moment. Then he looks up at me with a warmth in his eyes I’ve never seen before.
He beams. “I love it.”
He grabs me and pulls me to stand between his legs. Then he kisses me until I’m breathless. “Thank you.”
He sets the photo on the side table by his bed.
Excitement sparks through my belly at the next gift I’m about to give him.
“Are you ready for your next gift?”
“Hell yeah.”
I walk out of the room and into the bathroom, then I open up the cabinet under the sink where I’ve hidden it.
I pull the hoodie I’m wearing over my head, then I slide on the Hollis U jersey.
I smooth my hand over the fabric, then look at myself in the mirror. I turn to get a glimpse of the back with Leo’s name and number.
Peretti. Number 53.
I can hardly contain my smile. I can’t wait to see his reaction.
I walk out of the bathroom and head back into the bedroom.
For a second, I linger in the open doorway. Leo’s looking at Wally, petting his belly.
“It’s funny how you got me two Christmas gifts,” he says to me while smiling down at Wally. “I got you two gifts too. How perfect is…”
He trails off when he sees me. “Oh, fuck,” he growls.
I bite back a grin as I spin around and pull my hair up. I glance over my shoulder at him. His mouth is hanging open, and there’s a dazed look in his eyes.
“Surprise,” I say softly.
His gaze fixes on my back. He swallows hard before looking up at my face. “Come here,” he growls.
My belly dips as I walk up to him. He stands up, grabs me by the waist, and pulls me against him. And then he crashes his mouth against mine.
He teases my lips apart, lapping at my tongue. I moan.
“You look so fucking hot in my jersey,” he growls against my mouth.
“You like it?” I rasp.
He drags his mouth down the slope of my neck. “I fucking love it.”
He leans back and holds my gaze. “You’re wearing that to every one of my games from now on.”
I grin, feeling ridiculously happy and giddy.
The sound of Wally’s feeder goes off downstairs. He hops out of bed, then races out of the bedroom. We both laugh at the sound of him galloping down the hallway.
Leo starts to pull me onto the bed and slides his hands up the jersey.
“Wait, what about my gifts?” I tease.
He pulls back, sighing. He smiles. “Right.” He moves me to sit on the bed. “Wait here.”
He leaves, then comes back with a big, flat box wrapped in shiny red paper.
I rip it open. When I see what it is, I gasp.
For a few seconds, I can’t speak. All I can do is stare.
I look at the beautiful oil-painted image on a canvas. It’s me and my parents and Wally, huddled together in front of the Christmas tree. My favorite photo of us. Leo had it turned into a painting.
My eyes water and my throat goes tight. I look up at the original framed photo, which is sitting on the top shelf of his bookcase against the wall. When I found it in that box of my parents’ things, Leo insisted I display it in his bedroom so I could look at it whenever I wanted.
I look up at him. “Leo, this is…” I trail off. The emotion bubbling up inside of me is too much.
I wipe the tears as they stream down my cheeks. I sniffle and look down at the painting once more, mesmerized by how beautiful it is.
“I love it,” I sob. “This is the most thoughtful, incredible gift.”
His mouth curves up in a relieved smile. He cradles my face in his hands and kisses me softly.
“How did you do this?” I ask.
“It’s kind of a long story,” he says, his smile shy.
“Nick’s brother, Ryker, knows someone who’s an artist. This is one of her specialties, painting photo images.
Her name’s Abby. She’s married to the coach of the Bashers, so Ryker knows her pretty well.
He recommended her to me when I told Nick I was looking for a painter. ”
I shake my head, in awe of the painting as I stare at it. Every color is an exact match to the photo. She captured our expressions perfectly.
“I love it so much,” I say again.
“I thought you could hang it up in your house once you get it back,” Leo says softly.
That tight, overwhelming feeling in my chest intensifies. I’ve never felt this way before. Like I’m so overcome with joy that I could cry.
“Will you help me hang it up?” I ask.
“Absolutely.” He kisses me again.
He grabs the painting from my lap and sets it to the side. Then he sits next to me and takes his phone out.
He takes a breath. “This is your second gift.”
He taps his phone screen, then hands it to me. It’s a page from his Notes app with an address, email, and phone number on it.
I squint at it, confused.
“That’s the address, email, and phone number of your dad’s cousin. Errol Bailey. He lives in Montreal.”
My mouth falls open. “Wh-what?”
“I asked my cousin Alessia to see if she could find him, and she did. He lives there with his wife and kids, who are around your age.” Leo swallows. “You have a family, Luce.”
Tears tumble down my face once more. I’m crying so hard as I grab Leo and hug him.
He pulls me onto his lap. “I have an uncle? And an aunt? And cousins?”
His eyes are teary as he nods, smiling at me. “Yeah. Alessia contacted them and told them about you. She said they were so excited to find out about you. They want to meet you.”
I let out another sob as Leo cradles my face. “Oh, wow.”
He wipes my face with his hands, then wipes them on his sweatpants.
I look at him, my heart hammering, my chest tight, my head spinning.
I can’t believe he did all this.
That overwhelmed feeling from earlier hooks behind my ribcage. It expands throughout my whole body.
It feels like comfort and joy rolled into one, multiplied by a thousand.
The longer I gaze at him, the harder it is to breathe. It’s all too much…but it’s also perfect and right…
And then it hits me like a freight train.
This feeling…I know exactly what it is.