Page 71 of Prince of the Palisades

“My famlovesholidays.” He looks mortified. “They’re single-handedly keeping Party City in business.”

I laugh, even though I’ve never heard of the company.

“Fourth of July. Thanksgiving. Christmas.” He loops more lights. “Valentine’s Day is super extra.”

“Why?”

“My dad proposed to Ma right here.” He gesticulates wildly. I almost climb the ladder to steady him. “Before they bought this space.”

Once he’s back on solid ground, Reiss tells me about his parents meeting during university. Their nightly study sessions at the coffee shop led to dates. To his dad proposing on one knee with a ring in an empty mug.

“Someone posted a video of it on Facebook,” he says, helping me work through the next box. “It got a lot of buzz. Doubled the café’s sales for nearly two years. So, when the previous owner was ready to sell, he gave my parents a generous discount. For all the extra attention.”

I smile, soft, unfiltered. It’s a love story like Papa and Mom. One that I’m certain can’t ever happen to someone like me.

“Do you like it?” I say after clearing my throat. “All the holiday stuff?”

He ducks his head, face twisting.

“Wait…” I dip to meet his eyes. “You do! You’re so into it.”

“I’m not!”

But he is. It’s the pink spreading across his face. His proud eyes admiring what we’ve accomplished so far. It’s another thing I like about him. How nerdy he is about movies and holidays.

How, unlike Léon, he keeps letting me into his world.

“What does it for you?” I rub my chin, barely holding it together. “Is it the decorations? Songs? The costumes? Do you secretly have dreams about dressing up as Santa—”

“Let me stop you right there,” he says, climbing the ladder again.

This time, I reach out. My palm presses to the small of his back. My other hand hovers near his thigh. The coffee shop is cast in shadows. Too dark for anyone to see inside, but I hear my pulse grow louder at taking such a gamble.

“It’sfun,” he finally grumbles. “We have this tradition.”

“Tell me it involves elf hats.”

“I’m gonna kick you out,” he threatens, but there’s a grin in his voice. “Instead of trick-or-treating, my parents invite all Dom’s friends here. Ma makes kettle corn with M&Ms. Dad whips up his specialty green milkshake. There’s music and games and—I dunno. I like it.”

I do too. Even if holidays aren’t a major thing in Réverie, it’d be nice. To have that many memories with just my family, not the entire country.

Guiltily, I rub the back of my head, say, “I’m going to Grace’s party. Léon is too.”

With me, as a friend, I think to add, but Reiss doesn’t need me to.

He says, “Figured.” It comes out even, nonchalant. “That’s not my scene.”

We shift to another corner. He sets up the ladder. I unravel another string.

“Besides,” he says, smirking, “The last party I went to, I met a real asshole.”

“Are you sure? Maybe you read him wrong?”

“I didn’t. He was an arrogant, royal pain in my—”

“That’s enough of that,” I say. As he works, my fingers tiptoe over the knobs of his spine. “Would you…want to help me pick out my costume?”

“No.” Again, I can hear his smile.

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