"You're thirty-six," I say.

"I know. I still want to find love."

"I can't picture you in love."

"Why not?"

"I don't know," I say. "This is a pretty intense conversation for Christmas Eve Eve, isn't it?"

"You wouldn't know, would you? You've never had a Christmas Eve Eve dinner before. Maybe this is what everyone does?"

"Or maybe you're just being weird. Are we dating?"

"Are we?"

"Smith, stop it. If you've got something to say-"

"I do have something to say."

"Then say it." I'm kind of annoyed right now and I'm actually feeling bad for being annoyed, because he planned a night of lady porn for me while I was at work.

"Why are you here, Chella?"

"I live here. Why are you here, Smith?"

"I like you."

I just blink at him.

"What will it take, Chella? What will it take to make you forget about Quin and Bric and just take me a for a spin?"

"So you do want to date me? For real? And I should walk away from Quin and Bric? And the whole thing? The entire arrangement? Are you... jealous?"

"No," he says. "And that's the honest truth. Quin doesn't want you."

"Hey-"

"I don't mean it that way. He likes you, but he wants Rochelle. You're just a stand-in. And Bric... well, you're definitely not Bric's type."

"What is Bric's type?"

"Dirty whores, mostly."

I laugh. Like kinda loud. "I think I fit that description, actually."

"You do not. Bric likes desperate girls. Ones who need that dream he's offering. You're not her. You don't need anything from us, and yet... here you are. Just tell me why you're here."

"I... don't know what to say."

"Try the truth."

We stare at each other in silence.

"Why is it so hard for you?"

I take in a deep breath and let it out. "It's a very personal thing. I like you a lot. I would date you. And you're right about Bric and Quin, we're not soul mates or anything. But I like them. And I'm with all three of you right now."

"So you want it to stay that way?"

"Not forever. Not even for much longer, probably. But for now. I want this to stay the same for right now."

"Why? Why did you go up to Rochelle's room that night? Why did you allow Quin to sleep with you?"

I have nothing to say to that. So I stay silent.

"Rochelle came for money and a place to live. Quin thinks she was homeless before she met us. She needed her dream fulfilled. But you don't."

"How do you know I don't? Maybe this is my dream? Did you ever ask yourself that?"

"Is it your dream?"

"Obviously I'm interested in what you guys are offering. I think we can agree on that just by looking at all the things I've agreed to in the recent weeks. But no, it's not my dream."

"Then what will it take?"

I put my fork down and sigh. "Can you ask me this again next week?"

"You do know that they're both at the club right now picking out the girl they'll fuck tonight, right?"

"Why are you telling me this? To make me jealous? I'm not jealous. I don't care what they do when they're not with me. On Sunday night at midnight Quin will show up in my apartment and we'll have fun. Tuesday night at midnight Bric will call me and say nice things."

"And what will I do Thursday night at midnight?"

"Nothing," I say. "You don't bother with me at midnight."

"Because I can't touch you without Bric."

"I'm not the one who gave you that rule."

"But you're OK with it?"

"I don't think this is what people do on Christmas Eve Eve."

"You'd be wrong. The holidays are the perfect time for family fights."

"Family-" I laugh. "Come on, Smith. I've known you what, a month? If that?"

"What will it take," Smith says, his voice rising, "to change your mind and make you want to just be with me?"

"To change my mind about the arrangement? Nothing, Smith. Nothing you can say or do will change my mind about this arrangement."

"So you want all four of us to be together."

"Yes," I say, tired of talking about this. "Yes, I do. I want it. And I'm going to ask for it when Quin comes over Sunday night."

He just stares at me. The seconds tick off and then... "OK. Then what? Once you get that, then what? You'll stay?"

"I might. I don't know yet."

"You're lying, Chella."

I huff out a breath of air, then grab my napkin off my lap and toss it on the table. "I'm done," I say, getting up from my chair.

Smith stands as well. "Just tell me what you're doing and I'll back off. But I don't like being manipulated."

I throw up my hands. "How am I manipulating you?"

"I don't know, but you are. Quin and Bric are happy to forget how we found you. They don't care about you, Chella. That's why they're OK with letting it go. But I actually like you. And I know you're lying to me about something. So what is it?"

I want to tell him, I really do. Because I like him back. A lot. But I can't tell him now. Not yet. Not when I'm so close to what I came for. "I got you a Christmas present," I blurt, desperate to change the subject. I know it won't work, but I try it anyway.

His frown eases a little and then he smiles. "What did you get me?"

I sigh out a long breath of relief. Thankful. "It's pretty special, but I can't give it to you yet. I have to save it a little longer. It's a present for later, Smith. Something more meaningful than I want to share with you now."

"Because you're not done with Bric and Quin?" His words are angry at first. "And you have to finish that before you can start something new?" But they are soft by the time he's done.

I nod. "Yes. That's exactly it. I have to finish what I started and then I have a gift for you. So I hope you can wait a little longer."

He walks around the table and stands in front of me. I can tell he wants to touch me. Maybe very badly. But he stuffs his hands in his pockets, like he usually does when he needs to control his urges around me. The rules, it seems, are meaningful to him. "I can wait."

"Good. I'm glad. I really am."

"Did you get Bric and Quin a gift?"

"Yes," I say. "But it's not the same."

His eyes go sad for a moment. "How are they different?"

"They just are. Can we please talk about this next week?"

He thinks about my request for a few moments. Trying to read between the lines, I bet. And he must kind of get it, even though I know he has no clue what's really happening. Because he says, "Sure. I can wait. And besides, I got you a present too. And I don't want to wait, so I'm gonna give it to you now."

He walks away, goes up the stairs to the second floor, and disappears inside his bedroom.

I grab both our glasses of champagne and refill them to give myself something to do.

When he comes back he's all smiles and he's got his hands behind his back. He motions to me with his head. "Over here. In front of the fireplace."

The fireplace is double-sided and separates the living and dining rooms. He walks over to the polished marble hearth seat on the living room side and motions with his head again. "Sit here."

I have no idea what to expect right now. But I walk over and sit, placing our glasses of champagne on the seat next to me. He sits too, and then brings out a turquoise blue box with a white ribbon tied around it.

I smile. "Tiffany's?"

"Women go crazy for Tiffany boxes, right?"

"We do." I laugh. "Even girls like me."

"Well, don't jump to conclusions," he says. "It's more than it seems." He hands it to me and I take it. It's not a ring box, it's bigger than that. About eight inches square. And it's very light. "Open it," he says.

I pull on the white satin ribbon and let it fall into my lap, then lift the lid off the box.

It's empty.

I furrow my brows and look at him expectantly.

"It's not empty," he says.

I look again. But yes, it is.

"It's filled with everything, Chella. Every possibility. You can put whatever you want in that box. It doesn't even need to fit inside, it will still count. Whatever you want."

I look at him and... have a small revelation. Just like I did last night.

"I'll get it for you. I asked you what it would take to make you forget Bric and Quin. And I mean it. Whatever it takes. I can put it in there for you. To some people life is about survival. I've been there. Not by birth, I had to find that part of living by myself. And I'm betting you've been there too. I don't know how, or when, or why-since your family is obviously wealthy. But I have a feeling you've been in survival mode before. But life isn't really about survival. It's about living. It's about meeting people, and going places, and feeling things you don't normally get a chance to meet, or see, or feel. It's about being aware of what you're doing, and why. It's about opportunities and possibilities. It's about experiences, Chella. So my gift to you is whatever you want. Put whatever you want in that box, and it's yours. Courtesy of me."

"The dream?" I ask.

But he shakes his head. "No, it's not about the dream. It's about the want. The longing, Chella. You remember the longing?"

"The book?" I ask, still slightly confused.

"The message inside the book. Longing. A yearning desire. A burning ache in the heart. Something you hunger for. Thirst for. Something you want so bad, it's killing you slowly not to have it. That's what goes in the box. And I realize the box is small and these things feel big, but they have no boundaries. They are ethereal. Like a mist or a spray. Or that feeling you get in the pit of your stomach when you know you lost something and can't get it back. I will give you that, Chella. I will fill in the deep, dark hole you're so desperate to cover up with whatever it is you're doing here with us, and I will make your longing go away. That's my present."

Chapter Thirty-One - Bric.

Quin is pouting as he stares down into his whiskey glass as we wait for Smith and Chella to arrive at the Club. "Three years," he says. "This is the first Christmas without her in three years."

I roll my eyes because he's not looking at me. But I try to be patient. "I hope to God you do not start with this shit tonight, asshole. This is for Chella, understand? She's not interested in your stupid broken heart. So suck it up, be a man, and shut the fuck up. I can't take any more of your whining."

I'm not really known for my patience but that was me trying. Hard.