24. Lilah #3
I shook my head, not letting thoughts of Mason’s dad ruin the most thoughtful surprise I’d ever gotten.
Focusing on the beautiful display in front of me, I sat in front of the tree with crisscrossed legs, not even needing to open a gift for the warm glowing ball of emotion to fill my chest. From down here, the numbers on the side of each box stood out.
Close to the front was number 1. I checked the one I’d picked up. It was number 4. I set it down, picked up the first and gently undid the embossed red-and-gold paper.
A plastic container with a rectangle plate inside. On it, three of the ham and cheese croissants Mason brought me most mornings.
I set the box aside and picked up the next one.
Hot chocolate spoons to make myself a mug of hot chocolate, just like I used to do with my mom. I wrapped my arms around the package and rested my chin on it. Don’t cry, Lilah.
The thrill of excitement battled with not wanting this morning to be over so soon when it came to tearing into the presents all at once or stretching it out to fill the empty day.
I paced myself, heated up one of my croissants and made myself a cup of hot chocolate before sitting back down.
Taking one box at a time, I lined them all up.
There were ten more. Twelve like the song.
And the wrapping on them… Mason had remembered what I’d shown him when we wrapped Zoe’s presents.
They were so pretty I almost didn’t want to open them.
I’d thought at least I’d wrap mine prettier than him, but every one of these boxes was so carefully wrapped I couldn’t even see tape.
The gift I’d made for him felt meager in comparison. I stared at my trunk, where it lived until I put the last touches on it.
I’d worry about how crappy my present was later. But now I’d bask in a little spoiling, courtesy of Mason.
The third box held a Santa hat with my name embroidered on it and a card with a code to scan. I grabbed my phone and a playlist started. The classics—Mariah, Bublé, Clarkson—and crackly vinyl hits from the fifties and sixties.
I unwrapped box after box.
Box four had a sage-green cashmere sweater dress. My favorite color.
A sage-green personalized stethoscope with my name engraved on the chest piece. Noise-canceling earbuds and over-ear headphones. In another, a giant box of the cream-filled coffee cakes I inhaled.
One gift held little clear boxes filled with a medley of green and blue beads.
I gasped, picked one up and grabbed my mom’s dress from the trunk. I held the dress beading and the box up to the light. A match.
He’d found the beads I needed to finish her dress.
Sadness-coated happy tears welled in my eyes.
I blinked them back and stared at everything in front of me, a little awestruck.
I tamped down the urge to calculate how much this would have cost and any guilt over Mason spending on me.
That could come later. Right now I wanted to enjoy this moment he’d put together to help me feel a little less lonely.
By the time I opened box nine, I was dancing inside.
Box ten was smaller and held a black velvet box. I dropped it to the floor but reached inside and hesitated before picking it back up.
Mason had orchestrated this flawlessly. In person, I’d have told him this was too much, but on my own, every gift was another reminder of how much he’d been paying attention. How well he knew me. How much he cared.
I popped open the lid. The twinkling tree lights caught the simple chain.
And at the bottom, a rose-gold origami heart pendant dangled.
I traced my finger over the delicate piece of jewelry.
My first piece of jewelry ever. I hopped up and put it on in front of the mirror.
The point settled just below the hollow in my throat. Perfect.
When I pulled the lid off the eleventh, I stared at our vampire summer read with a tilted head.
He’d already gotten me this one. Well, he’d put it on the passenger seat one morning that he picked me up and pretended I’d left it there the day before.
I’d have remembered if I’d dropped serious cash on a new special edition hardback book, but there it was, and he continued to pretend he had no idea where it had come from.
I picked it up and the cover fell open. The book nearly tumbled from my grasp.
Black marker squiggles flowed across the cover page.
A signed copy. I hugged the book to my chest, pulled it back and stared again as giddy excitement leveled up even higher.
If I’d looked down and my feet weren’t touching the floor, I wouldn’t have been surprised.
With the last box in hand, I wracked my brain trying to figure out what it could even be. There was already so much—too much, in fact. I couldn’t believe he’d done all this, and my basic handmade gift felt stupid in comparison.
I folded back the tissue paper. Tucked neatly inside was his jersey.
The coveted one all the girls had clamored about since the beginning of the year. The one usually given out in front of a crowd. The one he’d asked me to wear already in front of everyone.
I laughed at the handwritten note pinned to the front. That he even thought I’d say no now.
Will you wear it for me? M