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Forever?
The word sticks in my mind.
“Christmas Eve,” I hear myself murmur after a while, feeling Avery reach behind herself to feel me as I play big spoon.
“Hmmm. And I can feel a candy cane,” she laughs, gripping my hardness again which I swear hasn’t gone down since we came home.
“You really never liked Christmas?” I ask her, kind of asking myself that too.
Hoping I’ve planned everything just right.
“Not until this year,” she tells me and rolling over I embrace her again.
“Same,” I tell her, half-wondering how things went at the office party. Hoping plenty of others get some Christmas cheer too over the next few days.
“I always worked over Christmas,” Avery confides. “It kept me from knowing I had nothing to do,” she says absently.
“Or no one to do it with,” I agree, hearing her speaking my own mind.
“I used to watch people, but from fifty stories up, it’s a different tale told.”
We lay quietly for some time and I feel myself falling back to sleep, never wanting this moment to end.
It’s almost as though we can feel the snow falling outside. The calm over everything.
“C’mon,” I announce, jolting us both from our reverie. “It’s Christmas Eve and we don’t want to sleep through the whole thing,” I remind myself more than anything.
Grabbing her hand and nearly dragging her from the bed, I promise it’ll be worth her while.
“We can make this is our first Christmas,” I tell her. The only ones that need to count from now on.
That seems to work, and in no time Avery and I are huddled in a sheet, making our way down to the living room, which I sincerely hope has been set out the way I asked.
“Why does it always feel like you’re up to something?” Avery asks, shivering slightly next to me until I hear her gasp once I open the door.
The warmth of the room hits us, and I have to say for myself, not being a Christmassy kinda guy up until now, I’m impressed.
“When did you do all this?” she asks, staring in wonder at the tree. The lights and all the gifts surrounding it.
There’s a blazing fire courtesy of gas logs and the rich smell of spruce, spices, and egg nog in the air.
“I didn’t,” I confess. “Well, not really. I just have good staff who know how to do what they’re asked to,” I remark, slipping out from under the sheets and rummaging through some gifts, squeezing the soft ones until I know what I’ve found.
“Here,” I tell her. “You first.”
I watch with growing excitement as she gently opens the wrapping.
“A towel,” she says trying to sound surprised.
I laugh and growl in mock despair.
“Dammit!” I cry, grabbing all the soft parcels and tearing them until I find what I need.
What I want her to have on when we’re alone.
“Oooohhh! Matching robes,” she observes, gasping and then starting to tear up again, noticing the embroidered monogram A for Avery and J for Jack.
“Too much?” I ask, wincing, but slipping mine on and helping her do the same before she hugs me.
“They’re beautiful,” she whispers, and as she stares into the fire I explain she’s really all I wanted.
“The robes, and everything else under the tree it’s just stuff. But it’s you I wanted Avery. And now I’ve got you.”
“Merry Christmas,” she says dreamily through misty eyes as I hear myself almost starting to yelp and holler like a kid, begging her to open one more gift after another.
All for her, and all priceless when I see her smiling.
“Merry Christmas, Avery. I love you,” I tell her, enjoying the sound of those words in the air between us.
“I love you too, Jack.”Chapter NineteenAveryI don’t really notice the time, talking with Jack until I know it’s late only because I’m fighting off yawns.
I don’t want it to look like I’m bored. But I’m just beat.
We’ve had a simple dinner of ham and vegetables which Jack refused to let me help with, plus way too many chestnuts, which Jack somehow manages to roast near the gas flames without spoiling them.
“We have to save some room for tomorrow, though,” he cautions, glancing off to the doorway as if there’s a whole world of secrets he’s holding back with his magic.
I groan softly, gently punching his shoulder as I nuzzle into him again on the huge pillows he’s propped up by the fire.
“No more surprises, Jack. It’s wearing me out,” I half-heartedly protest.
I can’t help it though, I do feel just as excited as he’s acting. A little mystery, a lot of gifts, and plenty of romance. What’s not to get excited about?
He politely ignores my protests and I just know he hasn’t even started with the surprises.
I think Jack knows it’s past my bedtime, so he starts to explain stocks and shares.
The last thing I remember is him carrying me upstairs again, not even trying to fight off sleep anymore.
