The door rattled as Alexandre knocked once. Not loudly. Not urgently. Just enough to announce himself.
I opened the door, already braced for tension, and found him smiling. Not the polite version I'd grown used to. Not the careful, controlled version of him that measured every word like it carried an unbearable weight.
This smile was easy.
"You're hiding," he said.
"I'm resting."
"It's Christmas."
"I'm mourning the death of my peace and quiet."
He laughed. Actually laughed. The sound startled me enough that I blinked.
"Come downstairs," he said, holding out a hand. "Just for a while. As my special guest."
I narrowed my eyes. "That sounds suspiciously like a trap."
"If it helps, " he said, leaning against the door frame, "there will be food. Wine. Children attempting to sing."
"T
