I frown for a second because he sounds condescending, but I decide to look past it. “Planning an event for a celebrity or someone well-known in the socialite circle and pulling it off. Most of the event planning business is word of mouth. It just takes someone giving me a chance to show I’m capable.”

He nods while he chews but says nothing.

I cut into my steak and fork a piece, bringing it to my mouth. That film of floundering silence coats me again. Andrew looks at his salmon as though it’s personally offended him.

I swallow and decide to take one last stab at a decent conversation. “Will you be traveling home to see your family over the holidays?”

His knife screeches across the plate and he quickly looks around at the other diners before peering across at me. “No, I won’t. I don’t generally do much for the holidays.”

“You don’t do much for holidays?” My tone sounds as if he just told me he kicks puppies for fun. “Oh, I love Christmas. I’m a total Christmas nut.” I smile, hoping some of my cheer will rub off on him.

He looks at my chest and back up to my face. “Wouldn’t have figured.” His sarcastic comment doesn’t do much to salvage this evening. “Let me guess—you already have your Christmas tree up.”

“Trees, plural.” I wink.

“How silly of me to assume you’d only have one.”

“You said you don’t do much for the holidays, but you can’t mean Christmas is included?” I feel as if it’s an innocent enough question, but something passes over his face. It’s quick, almost like a searing flash of pain, but it disappears.

“Not particularly.”

I frown. “How can you not like Christmas? There’s so much to love.” I fork my potato around since it’s the only thing I’m probably going to eat.

“Like what? The influx of tourists into the city so it takes twice as long to get anywhere? The pressure to find someone the perfect gift because if you don’t, then that must mean you don’t care enough about them? The commercialism of the entire holiday?” He gives me a hard glare. “Families pretending that they’re perfect when in fact nothing could be further from the truth?”

I stare at him for a beat because… jeez, this man is like a real-life, living and breathing Scrooge.

“You’re pretty cynical.” My forehead wrinkles and I place my fork down, my appetite gone.

“I’m a realist. Christmas is an entirely commercial affair that puts money in the pockets of large corporations and stockholders, and nothing more.”

“That’s a crappy way of looking at something so magical that brings people together.”