“I did the best I could with the time I had,” he said, gesturing to her to open the square box in her hand. Gift wrapping paper gave way to a canvas, and Cosima couldn’t stop the delighted gasp from falling from her lips. He’d painted the Northern Lights, undoubtedly because she’d spent a good twenty minutes talking about how it was on her bucket list not just to see the Northern Lights but to see them in as many locations as possible. She knew he was talented from the art she’d seen on the website he’d pulled up, but this? This threatened to make her sob. Tristan noticed the glassiness in her eyes and pulled her in for a little squeeze. “Please don’t cry. That’s the exact opposite of what I set out to achieve today. I didn’t have a lot of time, so it’s smaller than I wanted, but I promise to make you a larger canvas someday.”

And as if he attempted to distract her, he handed her a smaller package.

A hundred minus two.

This gift was the size of a postcard, and she flashed him a shaky smile, sniffling as she took in the crossword puzzle he’d painted, which highlighted only three words: beauty, grace, badassery.

“These are the most beautiful and thoughtful gifts I’ve gotten in a long time,” she said, wiping the tears that still insisted on coming. “I can’t believe you stayed up all night painting for me.”

His smile was shy. “Well, not all night. They were simple enough to execute, and acrylic dries a lot more quickly than most people think.”

“Please stop trying to downplay what you’ve done,” she sniffed. “My gift is silly by comparison.”

“I doubt it.”

Cosima loved his confidence in her but seeing the two beautiful paintings he’d dragged his ass home to create while she stomped around her kitchen, annoyed that they didn’t have sex, had her regretting she’d even brought up what seemed cute at the time. She couldn’t take it back now, so she led him to the kitchen, where he’d put her bags down, and pulled out the haphazardly wrapped box. Tristan went through the process of shaking it in an exaggerated manner as he tried to figure out what was inside. He wasn’t any closer when he finally removed the wrapping and asked, “You got me a glass jar?”

She leaned against the kitchen counter as he went through the process of opening the box she’d taped back together and allowed herself to revel in the wide, child-like smile that broke out on his face when he saw that the jar was filled with Starbursts. Pink Starbursts.

His laughter made her feel warm inside, chasing away the concerns that he might have found her gift silly.