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12
“It doesn’t feel like Christmas without you here.” My mother called while we’d been watching our movie marathon and drinking mugs of hot chocolate, and left a voicemail. Hearing the hurt in her voice, I’m glad I didn’t get her in real time. I would have been a mess.
Now, I feel guilty, even though it isn’t my fault that I can’t make it home for the holidays. I know I’ll miss the laughter and the tight hugs from my parents and grandparents, and I won’t get to eat any of the delicious food my mother works so hard to make, including her infamous apple pies. But it’s out of my hands. Periodically throughout the day, I’ve checked in on the local weather report only to see there hasn’t been much of any change. The roads are still hazardous and the police want civilians to stay off the roads wherever possible while crews work to clear away the snow that keeps falling relentlessly.
The only good thing is that it’s Christmas Eve and the stores are all closed now, so the people who did venture out are home now. I would say that I wish I was too, but I can’t think of anything lonelier than being trapped in my tiny apartment all alone on Christmas morning. More and more, I’m starting to think that Niles’ invitation to hang out was an unexpected blessing in disguise. Maybe Santa does exist and this was his gift to me. I’m certainly in the Christmas spirit, spending so much time with these three men who are fun and sweet and genuinely wonderful people.
How did I get so lucky? I’m almost afraid to blink too hard in case they disappear and I find myself back in my apartment, curled up on the aged couch that harkens back to the 90s and static on the TV.
It’s nice to be surrounded by people who share my taste in entertainment, as well as push my boundaries—in a good way—and make me feel wanted and desired and sexy. It’s as if they’re the total package, and I don’t know if it’s just one of them that fits me or all of them, or whether it’s individually that we jibe so well or as a collective whole.
It just feels like we mesh, and I like that. I like that a lot.
“You look sad.”
I turn to Dean who is lying next to me in the giant bed in Niles’ room, which is both unexpected and welcomed. I never would have thought that, of the many encounters they’ve apparently had over the years in their venture to find the perfect woman to suit them all that his room would have been the central hub. It’s welcomed because, once again, the furnace quit working and, even though it’s only been a couple of hours, the house is quickly losing its hold on the lingering heat in the face of the plummeting temperatures outside, and rather than trying to stay warm alone in the guest bedroom, I get to snuggle between their big bodies that harbor enough heat to make my skin break out into a sweat.
“I’m still bummed that I don’t get to see my family this Christmas.” The confession is somber, like my mood. It’s not often enough that I get to go home and see everyone, and there are no guarantees in life. My grandmother and I have always been close, especially, and I shudder to think that this might have been my last opportunity to see her.
“I’m sorry you missed your plane.”
My fingers expand to find his and I take Dean’s hand into mine. He’s sweet. I find that I like this side of him even more than the playful, happy-go-lucky side. “You didn’t make it snow.”
“No, but I understand. The last time I saw my parents, we had an argument. If I had known they’d have an accident the next day and I’d never see them again, I might have chosen my words differently.”
I gasp, pained for his loss. “They were in a car accident?”
“No. Bungee accident.” He smiles fondly. “They were die hard adrenalin junkies. It was on their bucket list.” His gaze grows distant. “And then they kicked the bucket. Go figure…”
I’m so taken aback by both the admission and his infusion of dark humor that I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.
“What’s stopping you from traveling once the roads open back up?”
I consider Dean’s question and find myself asking the same. “Well, there’s work…”
“Work is always waiting.”
“But I’m not rich like you. I need every dime in order to make it to my next payday.”
“Borderline.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m only borderline rich,” he clarifies. “I’m not quite there yet. Once I can afford myself a yacht, then you can call me rich.” He grins, and I’m so enamored with his easygoing personality and his ability to create laughter in the most serious moments that I playfully pinch his side.
“You’re such a pain in the ass,” I accuse.
“Not yet, but I can be.” He looks down at me and winks, and my cheeks flush.
“If you two never stop talking, Niles is never going to get his beauty rest, and we all know what a diva Niles is when he doesn’t get his full eight hours.”
Shane’s interjection tips me over the edge and I start laughing, unable to prevent the full-belly response. Quickly, they’re joining in, and soon our wiggling bodies and good mood transition into heated touch and passionate kisses, and before I know it, we’re all tangled together once again, a mass of limbs with seemingly no end and no beginning.
When it’s all over, and we’re lying in a cuddled mass under the blankets trying to keep the increasing cold at bay, I have two thoughts running through my mind: one, Dean was right and fully proved tonight what a pain in my ass he could be; and, two, I shouldn’t allow money to hold me back from what really matters in life, and those are the people we love and who love us in return.
After the inclement weather subsides and the roads are cleared, I decide, I’m going to book a new flight or gas up the car, whichever comes first, and I’m going to go see my family.
***
