Page 146 of The Gaybor War

"And yet they insist on jazz hands."

The first note cuts through the frigid air. It wobbles, recovers, and wobbles again.

Benji winces. "That soprano is fighting for her life."

I nudge him. "Be nice."

"I am being nice. I haven’t suggested auto-tune. Out loud."

Despite the uneven harmonies, the crowd hums with warmth. Neighbors gather in winter coats, kids dart between legs, and cocoa steams in paper cups. The streetlights overhead glow a soft gold, reflecting off tinsel and snow and the inevitable glitter that seems to follow Benji wherever he goes.

When the carol ends, applause breaks out, loud and earnest. The singers take a proud bow. Then the ornament ceremony begins. One by one, residents step forward to hang something meaningful.

Shania hangs a tiny wooden train for her father.

Candace adds a glittering heart signed with the names of her closest friends and neighbors.

Kiki’s kids solemnly place a crooked paper angel made of popsicle sticks and hope, stepping back carefully as if they’ve just entrusted the universe with something fragile.

And then it’s our turn.

I crane my head to look up at the community tree. Thirteen feet of pine, freshly erected in all its municipal glory, strung with white lights and guarded by a folding table full of HOA-approved ornaments: snowflakes, mittens, wooden stars, and approximately eight hundred variations of rustic.

Benji stares at it, unimpressed.

Christ, I know that look. "You look like you’re planning a felony."

"I am," he says brightly, pulling something from his tote bag.

It takes me a second to process what I’m seeing. It’s one of his leather Daddy Santa ornaments with a cropped jacket, suspenders, and black boots hot-glued to one of my tasteful glass snowmen in a position that is… unquestionably suggestive.

Santa is definitely not checking the snowman for structural integrity.

"Benji."

"What?" He bats his lashes. "It’s mixed media. A statement piece."

"You glued my snowman to your bondage Santa."

"Correction. I united them. In passion."

I rub a hand over my face. "The HOA is going to burn you alive."

"Worth it."

We step up to the tree together, hands brushing as we reach for a branch. I lace my fingers through his without thinking, and he squeezes back before lifting our joined hands to hang the ornament. It catches the light perfectly. A tiny, obscene beacon of festive rebellion.

"Beautiful," Benji whispers.

"You’re impossible."

He leans in close and smiles up at me with soft twinkling eyes. "But, you love me despite that."

I do. The realization lands softly, completely. Without thinking it through clearly, I kiss him. A simple, public kiss under twinkling lights and falling snow, his free hand curling into my coat. The soft smile on his lips when he pulls back warms me from the inside out.

"Daddy!" Kiki’s youngest shrieks, pointing. "What’s Santa doing to the snowman?"

Every adult within a thirty-foot radius freezes.