Kit wiped her eyes, and I scooted back a bit to give her space even though I wanted so badly to pull her back to me, cup her beautiful face in my hands, and kiss her.
Kit sighed and confessed, “My mom loved Christmas. That’s why I get so into it every year. I think the artist in her loved the decorations. She called it a visual expression of spirit and community. She told me that well-done decorations meant something. It was a way for people to express their joy, hope, and love during the holidays. I think that’s why I was being so critical of your tree, and I’m sorry I did that. My mom would have thought your tree was beautiful.”
“Hey, it’s okay.” I tried to lighten the mood. “You know what I think we need?”
“What’s that?” Kit asked, wiping her nose on the sleeve of her T-shirt nightgown.
“To open this second bottle of wine.”
Kit let out a laugh and nodded. I went to the kitchen to get the corkscrew and a second bottle of wine. When I got back, Kit had turned the lights off so just the glow of the Christmas tree and fireplace lit the room. The TV was on.
“I picked out a movie for us to watch,” Kit said, tucking her legs underneath herself as I joined her on the sofa.
I settled back in on my end of the sofa. I put my phone down on the coffee table, refilled our wine glasses, and said, “Okay, so what are we watching?”
“Die Hard.”
“I thought you wanted to watch a Christmas movie.”
Kit looked at me and deadpanned, “This is a Christmas movie.”
“Wait, you said my team’s Christmas tree didn’t have enough holiday spirit and you thinkDie Hardis a Christmas movie. The nerve!” I joked.
Kit busted out laughing as she started the movie.
Chapter 7: Kit
I woke up on Christmas morning on the sofa. A little hungover, I sat up, stretched, and looked over to see William on the other end of the sofa. I guess that wasn’t a dream after all, I thought to myself. After we watched Die Hard, we immediately started Die Hard 2. I must have fallen asleep during the second movie.
William looked peaceful as he slept. I felt something stir in me as I watched him. William was handsome, objectively. He obviously knew that, and over the last few weeks, I had decided that even though he was handsome, he was a little too self-assured. I found that irritating.
But last night William was different, because for a brief moment he was honest and maybe even vulnerable. It was unexpected, and frankly, it was hot. What was even more unexpected was that when he opened up to me, it unlocked my own honest emotional response. I hadn’t been prepared for that. I knew this could be trouble.
I thought about leaving William sleeping on the other end of the sofa and disappearing into my apartment for the rest of the day, but it was Christmas. It seemed wrong for either of usto spend the day alone if we could avoid it. I decided I needed to stop being silly.
I nudged William with my foot. William stirred but didn’t wake. I nudged him again. He grumbled and made a smacking noise with his mouth as he slowly woke up
“Hey, Merry Christmas,” I said softly as I nudged him again to make sure he was awake.
William sat up. “Merry Christmas,” he said as he stretched. I gave him a minute to get his bearings.
“What do you usually do on Christmas?” I asked him.
“Well, normally, I’m just getting home from a work trip, and I usually meet my friends Meredith and Addison in Chinatown for some Chinese food,” he said. “What about you?”
I shrugged. “The last three or four years have all been different because of my mom’s cancer, but for the most part we’ve just been home, watching Christmas movies.”
“Let’s do that,” William said decidedly. He seemed to agree that the two of us would be hanging out on Christmas Day. I liked the fact that I wasn’t going to have to ask him.
We made our way into the kitchen and put together a decent breakfast of pancakes, eggs, and bacon. We made huge cups of coffee, and I bullied William into letting me add gingerbread cookie-flavored coffee creamer into his coffee. We made our way back into the front room and settled in for more Christmas movies.
As we watched, William and I both drafted and sent Christmas text messages to friends and family. Sometime during the second movie of the day, William’s phone rang.
“Oh, this is my mom. I should answer this,” William said. He swiped his phone to take the call. “Hi, Mom. Merry Christmas.”
“Anak! Merry Christmas! Maligayang Pasko!” A voice loudly called from his phone. I tried to nonchalantly look overWilliam's shoulder. I could see a small Filipina woman’s face filling the screen. Her glasses sitting on the edge of her nose. “I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. We were celebrating.”
“It’s okay, Mom,” William said.
