Hats at Harrods
Rated PG
Disclaimer ~ We own nothing.
This is our first collab, (Eve and PrincessZeldaBelle) so bare with us as we get into the swing of things and enjoy!
What is with women and their need to shop? I don't think I've ever understood it. Even after being married five years, you'd think I'd get it by now. Nope. Still as clueless as ever on that subject. And, of course, the mother of them all – Christmas shopping. Will someone be kind enough to load the shotgun and pull the trigger?
Maybe all the more reason why I'm searching out Jonathan. Not to pull the trigger, but to at least put me out of my misery. "Hey," I say, once I finally find him hiding in the study. He tends to camp out here when he doesn't want to be dragged along on these family expeditions to Harrods. I wouldn't mind pulling up a chair and a bourbon and joining him, but there are bigger problems at hand.
"Oh no, you are not dragging me along this time," Jonathan says defiantly like the overgrown child he is. "I remember last year's fiasco, and I will have no part in it."
"Hey, you were the one that decided it would be a good idea to try on that dress. I told you you two weren't the same size."
"I'll have you know that in my fraternity days –"
"You know, I really don't want to know," I say, cutting him off. "Anyway, that's not why I'm here. I need an idea of what to get her. I was thinking ordering a book. Na... Naga-ed... Oh hell. Something about the First Intermediate Period. She's done nothing but talk about it for the last three months." Jonathan glances at me wide-eyed for a moment, before saying –
"No, no, I don't think that's such a good idea. I mean, come on, ol' boy. Look at all the books she already has! One more will just collect dust. And we all know how much my dear, sweet sister likes housework."
"Point taken." You know it's bad when I do a better part of the house cleaning than my wife does... "So what do you suggest then? And if you say a dress, so help me..."
"Oh, heavens no. I wouldn't want to see you trying it on this time." Jonathan leapt out of the chair before I could dump him out.
"Rick! Come on!" Speaking of the devil herself.
"I don't know...jewelry or something?" Jonathan suggests. How original, but it will have to do for the moment. I leave him to his hiding, bolting down the stairs to find Evelyn trying to hold onto Alex's hand long enough to put a mitten on. I snatch the boy up off the tile, holding his arm out to his lovely mother.
"He's your son," she says, shoving his little fingers into the mitten.
"Yeah, but he's got your brains. So don't go blaming this one on just me. You were there too." She grins at me, raising an eyebrow with her patented 'come hither' look. I lean in to kiss her, but she places her hand over my mouth, stating with an evil grin –
"If we're going to be home tonight, we need to leave."
"You realize, I hope, that you take all the fun out of everything." I grin at her, letting our flailing son drop to the floor.
~
Rick seems preoccupied during the drive to the shops; his driving is even less restrained than usual, which would make me very uncomfortable if I wasn't used to driving with my brother.
I bounce little Alex on my knee, smiling down at him. He peeks up at me, looking very sweet and innocent in his little navy wool coat. For one brief, shining moment, I can almost convince myself that my four-year-old son isn't a holy terror in short pants.
"And what are we going to buy today, my darling?" I ask, cuddling him close.
"Toys!" he shouts.
Rick snickers.
"No, darling, not toys. Presents. Lovely pretty presents for Uncle Jon and all Mummy's friends at the museum... and maybe a little something for Daddy too." I cut my eyes at Rick and flash him a coy smile, but he's got his eyes on the road.
"Uncle Jon likes toys," pipes up Alex helpfully. "He likes trains the best."
"Oh? And who else do we know that likes trains, I wonder? Daddy, perhaps? Or Mummy?"
"No, me!" Alex exclaims. "Me, me, me!"
"Takes after his mother already," Rick mutters, placing one hand on my knee (and effecting a rather precarious right turn with the other).
"I think Daddy's going to get a lump of coal in his stocking from Father Christmas if he isn't careful," I tell my little boy, who nods seriously. To Alex, who never misses an opportunity for mischief, the possibility of being deprived of presents looms larger every day.
"What do you think your mom wants for Christmas, kiddo?" asks Rick.
"Lots and lots and lots of presents!"
Rick laughs.
"I think your son's got the right idea, dear," I tell him, giving Alex a squeeze.
"A pretty dress?" suggests my son.
"I think Mummy has quite enough pretty dresses, darling." Alex is far too young to recall the uproar last year, when Rick decided to surprise me with a dress we could both have fit into. I was going through a period of sensitivity concerning the weight I'd put on while I was carrying Alex, and the enormous dress came at precisely the wrong time. We made it up later, of course.
Once I got the thing altered to fit me, it was so ugly that I simply couldn't bear to wear it! Honestly, it was even more ghastly than the clothes Jonathan used to buy for me when I was growing up.
I tried everything I could to be rid of that awful dress--I even "accidentally" got it caught in a door and tore it in the back, thinking that would be the end of it. But Rick--sweet, misguided soul that he is--took it back to the tailor's and had it repaired. Finally I hit upon a brainstorm: I shortened the hem several inches. Needless to say, Rick now refuses to let me out of the house in the dress. Although I still wear it once in a while, just to see what he'll say... or better still, what he'll do. I usually don't wear it for very long at a time, though.
Rick stops in front of the store to let us out. I slide over to get out, then reach into the car for Alex, who is already busily worming his way out of his scarf and mittens. I hold him fast under one arm, like a large, oddly-shaped parcel; while not, perhaps, the most motherly posture in the world, it is the most practical for anyone familiar with my little boy's propensity to scamper off as soon as my back is turned.
"I'll meet you on the main floor!" I call to Rick over the din of passing shoppers.
"What?"
"The main floor!" I shout. Behind him, several irritated drivers are tooting their horns. Alex suddenly becomes the Amazing Boneless Child, nearly sliding right out of my grasp. I slam the car door shut and hurry into the store.
~
Parking is a joke. You wouldn't think there were this many cars in all of England, let alone parked in this car park. After circling like a vulture, having to stalk every man weighed down with wrapped packages (while the wife walked in circles, trying to remember where they left their car), I finally manage to snag a spot somewhere close to Egypt. I glance at my watch, realizing it's been close to twenty minutes since I dropped them off. No doubt Evelyn is, one, wondering where the hell I am, and two, ready to kill me, having to deal with the terror alone.
I nearly run through the lot, up the steps and into the mass of people in the hell known to Christmas shoppers as Harrods.
Spotting the wife and child, I squeeze through the people, packages, and bags, hoping I can make it through this day in one piece, without strangling anyone.
"Daddy!" Alex calls to me. I sweep him up off the floor, pulling him out of the stampede. "Toys!!" I have no doubt in my mind that my son could easily find his way to the toy department alone.
"Not right now, Sport." He obviously didn't like that answer, as he began kicking until I let him back down.
"You see?" Evelyn says, gesturing as best she can without smacking someone passing by in the face. "This is why I say we need to start earlier. We wouldn't have to deal with this."
"Yes, honey, but July is a little overkill, don't you think?"
"I guarantee you no one else would be then." She grins at me, lacing her fingers through mine. We follow our impatient son as he heads for the stairs. "You know," she says when she's sure he won't hear, "we're still going to have to do this for his things." I glance at her with the 'You've-got-to-be-crazy' look, but say nothing.
"This way, Alex," I prompt when we reach the first floor. Alex had intended on continuing upward, toward the fourth floor and the toys no doubt. He begrudgingly listened, dragging his feet as he slowly made his way toward us. "Come on. We'll hit the toys later," I say, ruffling his hair. I keep an eye on him as he runs ahead, seemingly satisfied with the promise to go later.
"I need something for my entire staff," Evelyn starts rattling off. "Something small will due nicely. Darling, what should we do about Jonathan?"
"Make him buy his own booze? He's drinking me out of house and home!"
"That's not what I meant and you know it."
"You can't deny it."
"I mean about his Christmas gift."
"I was afraid you meant that. Let's just give him a hundred bucks and turn him loose in the casino."
"Well, now, that's not very family-like, is it?"
"And you're telling me he's not going to hock whatever we give him and do the very same? Let's just save him a step."
"He won't if it's something good."
"Yeah, that's the definitive answer."
"Look, Daddy. Hats!" Alex says, coming to a stop in front of us, pointing to a rack of brassieres. Evelyn just drops her head into her hand as I recalled the day a few weeks ago Alex decided to get into our wardrobe and play dress-up, in my trousers and shirts, and one of Evie's brassieres atop his head. We got a good laugh out of it when he came downstairs to model, but now I'm beginning to wonder if maybe we should have been scolding him instead. I take his pointing fingers in my hand, leading him away from the lingerie, but making a mental note to come back.
~
Hmm.
I might return to the lingerie department later, if I can convince Rick to hang onto Alex for a minute... judging by the look on his face, he'd appreciate a Christmas gift from there far better than, say, a new tie or cufflinks. Which are about the only ideas I have for Jonathan's present at the moment.
Alex is grimly determined to head for toys, and is, needless to say, nonplussed when he finds himself effectively bound by Rick's strong arms as we browse the breakables in this year's Christmas ornament collection. He squirms and wriggles, but Rick holds him in a sort of bear hug, pinning his hands with one arm and his legs with the other. A couple of years ago, I started the tradition of presenting my staff with glass keepsakes. Of course, after that first disastrous year, I had the shop deliver them directly to the museum...
Rick shrugs indifferently at each ornament in turn, while Alex explains that he wants to look at the pretty toys. Both of them are insufferable. Finally I just pick out a cherubic shepherd completely at random and place it in the salesgirl's hand, informing her how many I need and where I would like them delivered. She scribbles down the address, smiling over my shoulder at either Rick or Alex. Between the two of them, they manage to turn quite a few female heads whenever we go out.
"Daddy, TOYS!" Alex bellows, then kicks Rick in a particularly sensitive area. Rick lets out a roar and drops Alex to the floor, cursing vehemently--and loudly. The girl's smile disappears. Several shoppers are looking at us, expressions ranging from amusement to outright disgust. I do hope we won't be asked to leave the store again this year before I can get all my shopping finished.
Alex, free at last, attempts to scrabble off, but I catch hold of his collar and hold him while I give my account information. The salesgirl nods and writes it down, obviously eager to have us out of her department.
I kneel down to look Alex in the face. "You mustn't kick Daddy," I tell him. "You hurt him."
Rick, very red in the face, nods his agreement.
Alex actually seems contrite. I suppose Rick's yelling scared him. Rick seldom shouts at him. "But Daddy's strong," he replies. "No one hurts Daddy."
"Darling, anyone can be hurt. Even Daddy."
"And you kicked Daddy in one of his favourite places," Rick adds, having got his breath back.
"Rick..."
"One of Mom's favourite places, too."
"Rick!"
The salesgirl titters behind her hand.
"I'm sorry, Daddy," Alex volunteers, and extends his hands to Rick. Rick picks him up.
"It's okay, pal. Just don't do it again."
"'Kay."
After making quite certain that Rick is able to walk, I tow both my reluctant shoppers downstairs to the men's accessories counter. Alex doesn't even fuss about being carried further away from his goal, but meekly rests his head on Rick's shoulder. Rick shooes away the sales assistant with a brisk, "We're being helped, thanks." Having them hover about while he's trying to make a decision irritates him to no end.
To keep Alex occupied, I use him as my model, slipping ties on over his head to test them out.
"You be Uncle Jon," I tell him.
"Bloody hell damn," he replies succinctly, then giggles.
"Now, that's quite enough of that." I turn and give my husband a warning look--if Alex sees him laughing at this kind of behaviour, he'll never stop. "Rick, what do you think?" I indicate the tie Alex is currently sporting--a blue and gold striped pattern.
"I think that Jonathan has more ties than you have shoes."
"Fine." Looking desperately around the department, I seize on the first thing that catches my eye. "Perhaps a Fair-Isle jumper?"
Rick gives my suggestion two thumbs down and a rude noise to boot. Alex copies the rude noise gleefully.
"Someone's headed for a smacked bum," I announce. I deliberately don't specify whom.
~
And she wonders why I hate shopping. There are only a small handful of things I'm decisive on, and they're usually things I know I would hate getting, and I sure as hell wouldn't be caught dead giving.
"Well, do you have any suggestions?" Evelyn asks, irritation setting in.
"You didn't like my suggestion," I reply, folding my arms.
"Oh, for pete's sake. You're impossible." She glances at me as I lean over the tie rack.
"I learned from the best," I say with a grin. This produces a tie flying through the air at me. I catch it, placing it back on the rack before she has us thrown out again.
"What about this?" she says, spinning to face me with a packaged box of handkerchiefs.
"Is that something you want?" I ask, pray for some kind of insight as to what to get my wife.
"Heavens, no!" Damn. So much for that thought. But I play it off, hoping she doesn't realize that's what I was doing. "Then what makes you think he'll want that?"
"He and I have entirely different tastes, thank you."
"Uh huh. Which is why you two wore the same shirts for at least a year that I knew you." The look of death that speaks 'You'll be sleeping on the sofa for a long while if you keep that up' shot at me. I decided it was best to drop her taste is menswear. I glance down, realizing it had been too quiet in the last few minutes.
"That's beside the point. I – "
"Where's Alex?" I could see Evelyn stop breathing for a minute as she flails wildly around in a circle, looking for the boy.
"He was just here," she says, dropping the box to the table. She starts to take a step in one direction, changing her mind to go the other way, but in the crowd of people passing by, he couldn't be seen. I take her by the shoulders, looking her in the eye.
"Evelyn, honey, calm down," I say coolly, though inside, I'm as panicked as she is. "He couldn't have gotten far. He's still in the store. We'll split up and meet back here in twenty minutes, okay?" She nods meekly, but I can't expect more from her at the moment. She takes a deep breath, nodding again before she heads off down the aisle. I take off the other way, pushing my way through people when it suddenly hits me – the toy department! Feeling like a complete idiot, I make my way for the stairs, taking them two at a time. I hit the first floor, and seeing the lingerie again, I stop. Alex is a smart kid, especially for a four-year-old. He's probably already at the toy section. I'll just take a quick look, knowing if I did get her something from here, it wasn't going under the tree.
I stay to the outskirts of the section, glancing in as I look for Alex. I just pray to God no one else sees what I'm seeing.
A four-year-old trying on hats.
Considering no one is stopping to gawk, I figure they're all too wrapped up in their own little worlds to notice the kid with the lacy brassiere on his head.
The moment I step foot into the section, a tiny voice says behind me, "Can I help you?" Usually, hell no. But, since Alex was busy, and I didn't really want to claim him as mine while he had undergarments on his head, I turn to the salesgirl grinning at me. "Are you looking for something particular?" I know the look in her eyes too well.
"Yeah, I'm looking for something for my wife." Her face fell upon impact of the word 'wife.'
"Oh," she says, sounding rather disappointed. "Well, what size is she?"
"Umm..." I have to think about this for a minute. After last year and the 'fiasco' as Jonathan has deemed it, I'm almost afraid to guess. "Well, she's small. I guess she's about your size?"
"You don't know?" she questions, as though every man should know his wife's dress size. If she only knew. I catch her glance down at my hand, as if to see a ring and see if I was telling the truth. I glance past her to see the boy with the brassiere on his head parading around in front of a mirror.
"You know, I'll just take this one," I say, pulling a lavender silk gown off the rack. "I can exchange it if it doesn't fit, right?" She nods as she takes the gown to package and bag it. I glance back over at the mirrors, but only the brassiere lays on the dark red carpet. "Damnit," I say under my breath. Paying for the gown, I snatch the bag out of the girl's hand and take off up the stairs once more.
~
Alex is in the toy department... he has to be. He's been there enough times to know the way. Oh, God. My son is missing, and it's all my fault! If I hadn't been arguing with Rick...
I round a corner, headed for the lift, and dash headlong into a young sales assistant carrying a tower of boxes. Clothes and plush toys and miscellaneous doodads explode out of their packages and fly into the air, some landing with ominous crunching or tinkling noises.
"I'm so very sorry," I tell the poor sales assistant. He's struggling to get up, but can't, and it takes me a moment to assimilate the fact that I am the reason. I'm sprawled all over the poor boy's legs and he's too polite to just shove me out of the way.
"I... er... excuse me, miss," he stammers, going very red around the ears. I struggle to my feet, then extend a hand to him, helping him to stand.
"Don't you think he's a tad young for you, old mum?" calls a familiar voice from somewhere just out of sight.
"Jonathan!" I yell, letting go the young man's hand in my excitement. I turn to see my brother, strolling along hand-in-hand with Alex, as if this were one of their ordinary Saturday afternoon outings.
"Mummy!" calls Alex. "I found Uncle Jon!"
"Yes, and--funny thing, Evie--I didn't even know I was lost." Jonathan winks at me.
"Miss...?" quavers the shop assistant, who's still on the floor.
"It's Mrs. Mrs. Richard O'Connell. If I've broken anything, just charge it to my account."
"Yes, ma'am." Relieved that he won't have to account for the ruined merchandise out of his own commission, the young man scurries about collecting the remains of the boxes he was carrying.
"I saw hats," Alex informs me proudly. "Lots and lots."
Jonathan chuckles, having been told all about Alex's little odyssey through the closet.
"Oh, did you now?" I pick him up, determined not to let him escape again. "Is that where you found Uncle Jon?"
"Yeah!"
"One wonders what Uncle Jon was doing in the hat department," I muse, shooting my brother a look over the top of Alex's tousled blond head.
Jonathan grins unrepentantly. I suppose I should have known better than to try and embarrass a man who has no shame. "They have the most attractive salesgirls in the, er, hat department," he explains.
"Oh, Jonathan..." At least he wasn't picking out something tarty for one of his miscellaneous 'companions'. That is not the kind of role model I need him to be for my son. "I thought you weren't going shopping today."
"Hadn't planned on it, no. But then I remembered a very good friend I'd forgotten to shop for, so I thought I'd come into town and have a nose round."
"Male friend or female?"
"Er, female."
"Just a friend?"
"Yes, of course. But a very good one."
"And?" I gesture to the bag in his hand. "Let me see."
He clutches the bag to his chest, looking alarmed. "That's quite all right, Evie, I--"
"Jonathan, if this girl is really important to you, you had better let me have a look at whatever's in that bag before you give it to her. Because I know you."
"I really think it would be best if you didn't see this." I knew it. He's gone and bought underthings for some girl he doesn't even respect enough to introduce to his sister.
"Daddy likes hats!" chirps Alex, who has been chattering to himself throughout the discussion.
Jonathan claps his hands together in glee. "Oh, I say! Did you see Daddy buying hats, Alex?"
I glare at Jonathan. "Don't be such an ass."
"Ass!" echoes Alex cheerily. Merciful heavens. He begins to squirm, and I set him down on the ground and take a firm hold of his hand. I slip the other hand through the crook of my brother's arm. Neither of them is getting away from me until I've found the ideal Christmas present for Jonathan.
"Jon, I'm having the devil of a time trying to shop for a friend of Rick's. Perhaps you can help..."
~
Nothing. Absolutely nothing but rotten, screaming kids. And not a one of them my own. And thank God. If Alex behaved like this...he may be a terror, but a well-behaved terror that takes after his mother a bit too much at times. I pull my hand over my face, trying to relax the building tension. Where could he have gone after the lingerie? Maybe Evie has had better luck. Well, I can dream, right? I head for the lift, but the mob of people waiting would have me waiting until the store closes. So, back to the stairs. Feel like I'm back in Hamunaptra...
I push my way through to the menswear, spotting two familiar heads, with a third popping up and down periodically. I walk up behind Jonathan, clapping him hard on the back once I see that Alex is safe...and still demanding to go to the toy department. "What happened to having no part of the fiasco?" I ask, trying to nonchalantly hide my bag from my wife.
"Yes, well, you know, forgot a good friend," he says with a grin.
"Yes, ask him about that friend," Evelyn says, holding up a tie to Jonathan. Sneaky little vixen. "What do you think about this one? You think Rick's 'friend' would like this one?"
"Of course!" Jonathan proclaims.
"Really?"
"Yes! I have one just like it! And I think it's smashing with everything, isn't that right Alex?"
"Yep! Smashing!" Evelyn merely groans, sliding the tie back onto the rack. "What's in the bag, Daddy?" Leave it to my son to blow my cover...
"Nothing," I say, as Evie turns to look at me. "Just something for Mommy."
"Oooh, lemme see," Alex says, pawing through the bag.
"Richard James O'Connell!" Oh boy. Out comes the middle name. "You weren't shopping while our son was lost, were you?"
"No!" I exclaim, and in my defense, he wasn't at that particular moment. "I had him in my sights. He just slipped out again before I could pay and run." She folds her arms, an icy glare shooting right for me. I grab Alex's hand from inside the bag as he nearly pulled the silk gown out of the box and bag entirely. "Evie, honey, I swear. He was...trying on hats. So I just thought I'd let him get it out of his system."
"So you just let him parading around the lingerie department with brassieres on his head?" She fumes for a moment longer before I finally have the guts to say –
"And would you have walked up and taken him by the hand for all the world to see that you let your son try on 'hats'?" I look at her expectantly, waiting for her to blow up at me. Surprisingly, she looks down, and without answering my question, picks up another tie.
"What do you think of this one, Jon?" she asks, holding the tie up to her brother.
"You didn't answer the man's question, Evie," Jonathan says. I have to bite my tongue to keep from laughing at either one of them.
"No, no I wouldn't have, all right?" she snaps. "I probably would have stood there and pretended to shop, waiting for him to get bored and head off. But I wouldn't have actually been shopping!"
"You know, that's all find and good," Jonathan intervenes, "but about my Christmas present..." Evelyn turns to him, apparently stunned. "What? Where do you think you learned it from?"
"He's got a point," I say.
"Oh, shut up, both of you."
~
Well, there's nothing else for it but to let Jonathan lead me round the various departments, and point out a few things he's had his eye on. The fact that I suspect he's deliberately choosing the most expensive items, so that he can get more for them when he pawns them, does very little to lift my spirits. Rather than risk the madness of the department store again, I just buy everything there and then. It's not as though he's going to be any more surprised if I come back and get them later, after all.
What a disaster of a shopping trip. Between chasing about after Alex and trying to get everything done, I'm knackered. I do have to admit, however, that I'm mad with curiosity about what Rick's bought me. When Jonathan takes Alex to the lavatory, I seize my chance, and maneuver my husband behind a convenient luggage display. I look up at him demurely, through my lashes, and smile.
"Rick..."
He eyes me suspiciously. "What're you up to?"
"You haven't even kissed me today, and you have to ask that?" I put both arms about his neck and pull him to me--or try to. He's not having it.
"I tried to kiss you this morning. You stopped me."
"Rick, why are we still talking?" I ask, calling to aid my most reasonable tone of voice.
"Good question."
He descends on me, lightning-fast, and with such force that I almost forget my objective... but before long, I've gotten him to drop the bag and put both arms about me. I manage to kick it over with my foot, on the off-chance that whatever is inside will spill out. Now, if only I can--
He smiles into my kiss. "I knew it," he murmurs. "Nice try." He swoops down and snatches up the bag before I can get even a peek at what's inside. Then he takes my hand and yanks me, rather unceremoniously, out from behind the display.
Jonathan is waiting, Alex tucked in his arms. My brother shakes his head and makes a disgusted noise.
Rick points to me. "She started it." He takes my arm, then reaches around me and hands his bag to Jonathan. "Hang onto this for me."
It's already dark out by the time we emerge from the store. Little Alex, thoroughly exhausted by his adventure, goes to sleep on Uncle Jon's shoulder, sucking on his fingers and wearing a positively angelic expression. I nudge Rick, indicating our sleeping son, and remark that I wouldn't mind a little nap myself.
"What, you want me to carry you?" he teases.
"It would be nice..." I'm half-prepared for him to throw me over his shoulder, business-like, and just march out of the store. The presence of other people and the idea of making a scene rarely bothers my husband. But instead, he merely pulls me in for a quick kiss, and says, "Stay here, I'll get the car."
After what seems an inordinately long time, he returns, and our purchases are loaded into the trunk by the same young man I bumped earlier. He smiles shyly, and colours when I thank him for his help.
Jonathan dumps the shopping bag carelessly onto the backseat of the car before laying Alex down and covering him with Rick's coat.
"Cheerio, you two." Impulsively, he grabs me and pulls me in for a hug. "Bloody holidays, you know," he explains to my bemused husband over my shoulder. "They make a fellow damn sentimental at times." He releases me and lunges for Rick, administering a very hearty handshake and clap on the back before wandering up the street in search of his own car.
I lean into the back of the car, a half-feigned motherly impulse, the perfect opportunity to finally see what Rick's bought me. First, I kiss Alex, who snores softly. Then I reach past him and dig into the bag. What I find takes my breath away.
It's the most wonderful, thoughtful gift imaginable. Absolutely perfect. How on earth does he know me so well?
"Evelyn!" yells Rick sharply. I start up to protest my innocence--and crack my head on the roof of the car.
What I say then does me absolutely no credit, and I am very glad my little son is not awake to hear it.
Rick puts his arm around my waist and eases me into the passenger seat before running round to the driver's side. I put both hands to my spinning head and moan softly.
"That's what you get for being nosy," he remarks as he maneuvers the car into the busy street. But the tender concern with which he curls an arm about my shoulders belies the curtness of his statement.
"Rick, I don't know how I can wait until Christmas," I breathe, settling my head against his shoulder and closing my eyes.
"You like it, huh?" he asks softly, sounding pleased with himself.
"Of course I do, it's perfect. After all, I've been going on to you about Naga-ed-Dêr stelae of the First Intermediate Period for so long; just the other day, I was telling Jonathan that I didn't think you'd been paying att--"
I break off as he abruptly slams on the brakes, causing us to jerk forward. When I look up at him, his jaw is tightly clenched. His arm around me is like granite. He mutters something under his breath.
"Darling, what is it?"
"Nothing. Just... nothing." He relaxes again, and I lay my head back down with a contented sigh. "So... you really like it?"
"Yes, of course."
"Even though it's not, you know, jewellery or something fancy like that? Something more romantic?"
"Rick, it's exactly what I wanted." I snuggle into his shoulder. "What could be more romantic than that?"
~
Yeah, what could be more romantic? I decide it's better not to have her remind me to maim Jonathan the next time I see him...