"Oh, sure," Elissa says with a knowing smile. "That makes sense."
Josh winks at Cassie. "Oh, well. If you still want to check out pics from that production, Elissa has a whole set at our place. Quinn was shirtless for most of the show, so naturally she has several copies, all stashed in different locations in case she needs some 'alone time'."
Elissa elbows Josh. "If you want to live to see the New Year, Kane, I suggest you stop talking. Now."
We all take our seats again, and Mom appears with platters of decadent desserts. My mouth waters. Mom wasn't wrong when she said dessert was my favorite meal. If it has chocolate or cream or custard, my mouth is all over it.
Immediately my brain screams that I've never tried food play with Cassie. Jesus. Need to rectify that ASAP.
After twenty minutes of eating our own weight in sugar, Dad stands and holds up his glass. "To my darling Maggie, for always making Christmas special. I don't know what we'd do without you."
"To Maggie!" we all toast. I lean over and kiss Mom's cheek. "Great dinner, Mom. Thank you."
She touches my cheek and smiles. "Any time, sweetheart. You know that."
We all adjourn into the living room where Tribble is on her bed, snoring loudly after eating a mountain of leftover turkey. Beside her, taking pride of place in the room is the giant tree Dad searched half of New York to find. Clearly for him, size does matter. Mom has decorated it beautifully with hundreds of designer decorations and tiny blinking lights.
“Okay,” Dad says, rubbing his hands together. “Who’s going first?”
Every year the Holt family does this whole thing where we open each present, one at a time. In between are stories and jokes, and Dad clicks away with his camera so we have fifteen thousand photos to commemorate the event.
This year, Josh is part of the fun. Elissa gives him a new pair of Captain Kirk pajamas. He's so happy, I think I see a tear.
Dad presents Mom with what looks like an incredibly expensive set of chef’s knives. She cradles them to her chest as if they were a precious newborn baby.
I give Dad the usual, which is his favorite brand of single malt whiskey. He gives me a one-armed man-hug before presenting me with Sir Lawrence Olivier's biography. Yet another example of how far he's come. In past years, a subscription to a medical journal would have been common.
Cassie and I present Mom with a watch from Tiffany. It's the kind of luxury she'd never buy for herself but something she absolutely deserves. Mom cries as she hugs us.
When all the other presents are given out, only Cassie and I are left to exchange gifts.
I hand her a sparkly gift bag filled with tissue paper. It's my version of wrapping. Years ago I tried to wrap my beloved copy of The Outsiders after getting the author to personalize it for Cassie's 21st birthday. Although she adored the gift, Cassie mocked my pathetic wrapping skills for months afterward.
She takes the bag from me and hands me a neatly wrapped rectangle. I hold it up excitedly. "Wow, a pony? You shouldn't have."
She pushes me in the chest and smiles. "You're hilarious. Open it, wise guy."
I tear off the paper, and when I register what I'm holding, my chest tightens.
"Seriously?” I ask. “This is your gift? Have you been snooping? Or is this another joke?"
Cassie frowns. "No. Why would you think that?"
I point to her gift bag and smile. "Look inside."
She pushes through the layers of tissue paper until she pulls out the book I bought her. It's exactly the same one I'm holding.
"I bought it months ago," I say, as she stares at it in disbelief. "I couldn't think of a more perfect present for you."
A delighted smile spreads across her face before she glances over at the book's twin in my hands. "Great minds think alike."
If I ever wanted concrete proof we're soul mates, I just got it. I've never been one for religion, or even spirituality, but with Cassie I have no doubt we've known each other before this life. I'm also certain we'll know each other after it. In a hundred different lifetimes, I'll always find her. She's my other half. My better half.
How the hell did I get so lucky?
"There's an inscription," she says shyly, like she's embarrassed for me to read it in front of everyone.
I open the book to the title page and silently read the message in her familiar handwriting:
To my darling Ethan,
I wanted to get you something special for our first Christmas together, so here it is. The reason I chose this book was because no matter what life throws at us, you'll always be my Romeo. Despite your distaste for the character, if it wasn't for this play, and yes, your despised namesake, we might not be where we are now.
After all, he facilitated our first kiss, my first O (in front of Erika, of all people. I still can't believe we did that!), as well as countless Shakespearean declarations of love that allowed us both to uncover our true feelings.