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CHAPTER 11:
Ivy
It’s been a while since George left the penthouse. Walking around, I am struck by how much has changed since the first time I was here. Pictures dot the rooms. It no longer looks like nobody lives here. Welivehere. At least, that’s how I feel.
George walks in. “That was a longer trip to the office than I thought it would take,” I comment. “What on earth could you have had to do on Christmas Eve?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Once I got there, I kept finding things to do, and I lost track of time.”
Why do I sense he’s not telling me something?
“What do you say we go down to the market to load up for Christmas dinner?” George suggests. “After all, tomorrow is Christmas. I know some people order Chinese, but I’m thinking traditional sounds good. You’re the chef. What do you think?”
I give him an incredulous look. “I think a turkey is out of the question at this point unless it’s completely thawed.”
That seems to satisfy him. “We’ll figure something out. Get your coat. We’ve got to get there before they close.”
The last thing I want to do is cook a Christmas feast, but I can tell it’s important to him, so I agree.
When we get to the market, there are several last-minute shoppers loading up. George and I grab a cart, meandering through the aisles. There are a couple of fresh turkeys left. Talk about luck! After picking up everything for a full feast, we make our way back to George’s building, our arms laden with bags of goodies.
Looking up at his building, I stop him. “I can see your place from here.” Indeed, it is the only floor fully lit. Other units below might have a tree up that is visible, but nothing that truly embraces the season.
George pulls me close to him. “I’ve never even bothered to look up before.”
I snuggle into him, but the joy is dimmed somewhat by what is going on with my uncle. This is the happiest and saddest I have ever been at the same time. I love them both so much; it seems wrong to be without one of them. This is a time to celebrate love and happiness, and I hope that I will one day be able to convince my uncle of that.
When we get back to the penthouse, George puts on a Christmas movie marathon while we begin preparing the dishes for the next day. I still can’t believe he wants to do all of this. I have to remember that this is his first real Christmas in a long time. Though I may not be feeling it, I don’t want to deny him this special day just the way it should be, complete with a Christmas feast to outdo all others. Maybe going through these motions will make me feel better, too. After all, there isn’t any sense wallowing in self-pity. I’m sad about Uncle Owen, but I have to remember that I have George. I owe it to him to get out of my own head and celebrate Christmas fully with him. He’s given me so much. The snafu with Uncle Owen shouldn’t diminish that.
“What are you thinking about?” George asks as he is peeling a potato. “You look deep in thought.”
I walk over to him, leaning up to place a light kiss on his chin. “I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you. Though things are a bit off right now because of my uncle, I need to remember to be thankful for all that we have together.”
A look of relief flits across his face. “I’m glad to hear you say that. I’ve been worried you might be regretting our relationship.”
I look up at him, realizing how worried he has been about me, about my feeling of us. “I will never regret you.”
“Now,” I say as I take another potato and begin peeling it, “Please allow me to show you how to efficiently peel potatoes. At the rate you’re going, we won’t be done until New Year’s.”
George feigns indignation. “And this is what I get for trying to help.”
“No. I have something moreadultin mind to show my appreciation, but you’ll have to wait,” I say, giving him a suggestive look. “You need to finish the potatoes in order to receive your reward, however.”
He suddenly gets serious. “Okay. Show me the most efficient way to peel potatoes. I am your malleable student.”
I quirk an eyebrow at him. “I like the sound of that.”
Later, I lie in his arms, hearing his steady breathing. I’m still sad about my Uncle Owen, but I have so much to be thankful for. I just wish Owen and Cynthia could be here to share it with me…us. I have to remember that it isn’t just me anymore. Snuggling in more closely to George’s side, I know I’m lucky. I feel him pull me in tighter as my thoughts give way to dreams.
***
I awaken to the smell of brewing coffee. Reaching for my robe, I wrap it around me. Walking out into the living room, I find George placing some presents under the tree. “What are those?”
He looks up at me, grinning sheepishly. “You’re awake.” He tucks the presents further under the tree. “I think it’s pretty obvious what these are.”
“Well, since you’re puttingyoursout,” I say as I head to the guest bedroom. Reaching under the bed, I grab my little cache of gifts. Walking back into the living room, I place them under the tree. I hesitate at the last two. They are for my aunt and uncle.
“What’s wrong?” George asks with concern.
