Faith felt oddly uncomfortable with Caprice’s departure. Maybe nothing had happened between her and Leo. If it had, why would she be leaving like this?

When the cab arrived and took Caprice away, Faith and Leo drifted back into the family room to open their abandoned presents.

When he’d been gone with Caprice, she’d stared at the pile with her name on it, unable to believe anybody had gotten her anything or that Leo had gotten her so many things. She’d reminded herself he was keeping up appearances and doing what the family would expect him to do if he were engaged.

Gifts from other members of the family included an imported Italian leather journal, a nice fountain pen with her full name engraved in a classy script: Miss Faith Jacobson, sweaters, a few wool scarves, and boots. Someone had spoken with Leo to get her sizes. Aside from midnight Mass the previous night, she hadn’t been allowed out of the house. She wasn’t sure any of that would change, but she thanked everyone and tried to look happy.

Then came the Leo gifts. There was some jewelry in Tiffany blue boxes, wrapped with white satin ribbons, as well as a couple of sexy—though still classy—dresses. Where did he expect her to wear these? Was he going to take her out? Was this for show? She looked up with a question in her eyes, but he turned away and went back to opening his things.

“Hey, Angelo, this is nice, thank you,” Leo said, holding up a clearly expensive black leather jacket.

“It fell off a truck,” his brother retorted, the sarcasm thick in his voice.

Uncle Sal punched Angelo in the arm.

“Owww. What?”

Uncle Sal shook his head at him.

When she got through all her gifts, she turned to Leo and kissed him. It was awkward at first because she’d never initiated anything intimate with him before, even as part of the ruse.

After an initial shocked tension, Leo relaxed under her kiss, his fingers threading through her hair. She couldn’t tell if he was acting or if he wanted her, but soon the family started making kissy and oooooh noises. Mostly the kids who had been distracted from their video game. All human beings under the age of fourteen had a special mental alarm that went off whenever someone was making out in their vicinity.

Faith broke the kiss and looked down, unable to bring herself to look into his eyes to see what might be there. Desire. Pity. Indifference.

“I got you one other thing.”

“You already got me too much,” she whispered, too aware of all the eyes on them.

“Just wait a second.”

He left the room and returned a few minutes later with a big, wrapped box that had large holes in it and was making sounds. First thumps, as whatever it was ran and slammed itself into the side, then scratching noises, and plaintive, irritated mewls. Somebody wasn’t happy about their accommodations.