It started to snow on their way back to her apartment. All around them were the sights and sounds of winter: the muffled fall of snow, the sky sprigged with stars, the nets of frost covering the trees. Kate found herself enjoying it in spite of the fact that they were about to walk into the middle of a very large snowball fight and she was so cold that she couldn't feel her toes.
She turned to Tony after dodging a stray snowball. "I didn't know you went to church."
"I don't," he said easily. Snow exploded against his back. He waved off the culprit: a teenage girl who blushed as red as the hair poking out from beneath her hat. Her hand was still frozen in the act of throwing. Kate thought she looked like a life-size action figure. An NFL quarterback, maybe.
Irritated, she brushed the snowflakes from her eyelashes. "What do you call what we just did?"
Tony gave her a shrug as hard as ice before replying. "My parents used to drag me to church every Christmas Eve after my brother died."
Kate stopped fidgeting. An odd, heavy feeling settled into her chest. She didn't even know Tony had a brother, let alone that he'd died. She'd always assumed he was an only child.
"Old habits die hard?" she finally said, attempting to avoid the topic of his sibling altogether.
"I guess," he said. "I go every year."
Not even she managed to get to church every Christmas Eve anymore. She liked to go when she could, but it had become more and more difficult every year, not knowing which country the Secret Service would have her in every December or which marine sailor would be killed by a jealous ex the day before.
She looked sideways at Tony but didn't answer. Instead, she slipped her hand around his and gave it a gentle squeeze.
He turned toward her, obviously surprised. Their breaths mingled in the cold air. He looked like he was about to say something. But at the last minute he changed his mind and instead chose to drop a snowball over her head.
---
It was after midnight when Tony dropped her off at her door. Their fingers were cold and wet but their cheeks were glowing warm and they wore matching idiotic grins. Kate insisted that she won fair and square. Tony maintained that he let her cheat and win.
She invited him in for coffee even though they both knew he would decline.
Kate rubbed her hands together in hopes of restoring the feeling in her fingers. "What are you doing tomorrow?"
"Probably feigning my joy at receiving my fiftieth pair of argyle socks," Tony shrugged into the doorway.
"Poor little rich boy," she remarked.
He clutched his chest in mock hurt. "What about you?" he asked. "Want to shoot hoops with my socks?"
"I can't." Kate looked regretful. "Daniel and I…"
She didn't finish her sentence. She didn't have to. She saw the look on Tony's face as soon as she mentioned him.
She didn't know what that look meant and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out.
He stood up straight. "I'll see you at work, then?"
"At work," she echoed. "See you."
But then Tony did something she did not expect. Across what little space was left between them, he leant over and, touching her shoulder with light fingers, kissed her on the cheek.
Without thinking about it, she closed her eyes.
"Merry Christmas, Tony," she managed with a sigh.
He'd gone. It was not until he had already turned down the hallway and she had reopened her eyes that she realised that he hadn't said it back.
---
It snowed on and off throughout the night. When Kate woke on Christmas Day, the world was sugar-coated white, including the message from Daniel on the machine. She glossed over the usual sickly-sweet apology and concentrated on the part where he suggested breakfast at his place. He offered to cook. She couldn't argue with that.
She didn't notice the small gift-wrapped box by her couch until she was almost out her door and cursing under her breath because she was already running late. But she couldn't leave without her bag.
When she turned around and made a grab for the purse, she found her fingers brushing instead against streams of silver ribbon. She blinked in surprise for the first time since last night.
The gift bore a tag. Even though she was late, she sank down into her couch with the gift on her lap and a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She recognised the writing on the tag with its familiar messy scrawl and slants, and she grinned when she read the short note scribbled upon the tag.
Merry Christmas, Kate.
Morning fell upon the shiny silver trim in bright spikes of light. Kate took her time untangling the flurry of ribbons that caged the box. Finally, she tugged the box free. The wrapping fell to the floor unheeded. Unable to fend off her impatience any longer, she lifted the lid.
The sun sparkled off a set of crystal ornaments. They were beautiful against their bed of dark blue velvet and, Kate was sure, very expensive. But that was not what immediately struck her.
Blinking, she used one hand to lift it out of its box. A single golden chain dangled from her fingertips and a heavy cross came to rest against her palm. The light sparked off its cuts and angles and made it look like bright stars caught in the hollow of her hand.
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