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Zipping the pants up is loud, and Kara’s right on the other side of the door, so I’m sure she heard. Nevertheless, I unlock and turn the knob, moving aside to let her in.
She glances down, and I look too. Only the top two buttons of my shirt are done, and it flares out from there, one side gaping open and exposing my belly and the trail of hair leading down to my waistband. It’s gaping because the tail is down my pants and then out the zipper.
“Shit.” I turn away and try to get the zipper down, but it’s stuck. The white shirt hem is trapped in the teeth, I think, though I can’t see it because I don’t bend that way.
“Do you need help?” Kara asks, amused.
“No,” I say and grunt, pressing harder on the zipper.
“Peter, stop.” She grabs my elbow, jerking my hand away from the zipper. “Don’t ruin it. I can help.”
Kara kneels in front of me, and I nearly die. After waking up this morning, then the kiss, and now this...
My eye catches on the neckline of her top. That spot of skin that I smoothed earlier is right there. It would be so easy to place my hand there again and follow the arch of her neck up, to tangle my fingers in her hair.
Now my cock is getting hard, and Kara hasn’t made any progress, so I tilt my head back to glare up at the ceiling. This is what I get for not letting her spend the holidays alone? Her mouth is inches from my hardening dick, and the gentle brush of her fingers as she works at the zipper is not helping.
Finally, the metal clasp releases and the teeth slide down. I pull away before I can spring out of my fly and make my hard-on any more obvious.
Kara stands and retreats to the closet, giving me a moment to zip up my pants properly and finish buttoning my shirt. She’s rifling through one of the garment bags and pulling out a maroon dress.
“I’m going to see if this fits your niece,” she says, hanger in hand. I step aside to let her open the door, but she pauses, one hand on the knob, her face tilting up to look at me, a glint of teasing in her eyes. “You know, plenty of guys I work with get hard while we’re working together. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. It’s normal when someone’s right there. However...” She pauses and leans in. “Not many of them have kissed me a few hours before.”
With that, she smiles at me and exits the room.
I sigh and lean against the wall. This woman, this stupid crush, is not going away.
Eventually, sounds coming from downstairs pull me in: laughter, glasses clinking, dishes clattering. When I come into the back room, the fire is roaring and the table is dressed in a cloth and silver and fancy stuff I haven’t seen in years, if ever.
At each setting are white plates rimmed with silver that I recognize as my parents’ wedding china. The cutlery is the real silver; the pieces monogrammed with my grandparent’s initials.
Sylvie comes up beside me. “Isn’t it pretty?” she asks in Swiss-German, handing me two glasses of red wine. “Mami said this is yours and this is Kara’s.”
I take the glasses and look my niece over. The dress looks great on her, and Kara changed her makeup again to accommodate it. “You look stunning. Shit. Am I going to be meeting a boyfriend soon?”
Sylvie laughs. “Noooo.You know I won’t look like this in real life,” she says. “Plus”—she turns and lifts her arm to show me the side of her dress—“Kara had to take the sides in for it to fit me.”
I talk out the side of my mouth. “Well, if you hadn’t shown me, I wouldn’t have known. You’re not supposed to reveal secrets like that.”
She spins, twirling the skirt with her enthusiasm.
I watch her, sipping my wine and leaning against the wall, out of the way, until there’s movement by the hall. I turn my head to spot Kara coming in.
Her long, curly hair is up into a bun at the top of her head, soft and poofy. Her dress is black and fitted, ending mid-shin and with a square neck that exposes her olive skin. There are a few freckles on her shoulders that draw my eye as she walks toward me.
“This is for you,” I say, before she can comment on my gaze, and offer her the glass of wine. When she takes it, I put my hand in my pants pocket. Kara leans a shoulder on the wall next to me, watching my family with a smile on her face.
Despite the emotional day Sylvie’s had, she’s bloomed. She’s energetic and says more in one meal than I’ve heard her say in years. It’s nothing profound; it’s nothing to do with her transition or the way she feels in her body like this, but it’s the small things that I’ve missed.
And the ripple effect through the family. Juna is glowing with pride, Grosi doesn’t misgender Sylvie once, and my mother sits at the head of the table, reaching out to touch Kara in gratitude every chance she gets.
Back in our room after dinner, I turn the light off and rest my head on the pillow. Next to me, Kara lays on her side. When I turn my head, her eyes glint in the barely-there light.
“Thank you for today,” I say. It would have been a normal, quiet dinner. Mami served charcuterie with sourdough bread we’d baked earlier, challah, cuts of meat and cheese, spreads, olives, and anything else we found in the pantry. Of course, we finished with cookies, my family teasing me by picking out my worst cookies to eat and saving Kara’s beautiful ones.
But it wasn’t the meal itself that was amazing. Everyone was so happy, like magic, like a miracle had happened. My sister’s family was relaxed and carefree in a way that made me notice how tense and difficult things had been before. The gravity of their life was in stark contrast.
“Don’t thank me for being nice to your niece. That’s a low bar.”
