It's such a little thing, but somehow knowing I'm not just on a list of people Derek has to see today, that he's not going to be hurrying to leave here so he can spend the rest of Christmas Eve with someone else, feels nice. I know it's dumb. I know. But after dinner with Simon yesterday, it's... I don't know.

I don't know.

"Oh, I have a couple other things for you, hang on," I tell him, slipping off my apron and folding it over the back of a chair before hurrying into my bedroom to grab his presents, the wrapped box holding his helmet balanced atop the one holding three bottles of cooking wine.

I rest them carefully on the coffee table and then sit on the couch next to him. My smile doesn't feel quite as strong as usual, but I can only hope he doesn't notice.

"Do you wanna do one of yours first?"