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“Is that what we’re calling him now?” A smirk spread across Claus’ face. “Because I can get behind that.”
“No, because we’re not talking about him.” I pointed at the TV. “We are going to finish watchingThe Grinchwhile I put the garland on the banister, and neither one of us is going to speak one single word.” I should kick him out, but I knew he wouldn’t go. And if I was being honest with myself, I liked having him here. Even if he wasn’t talking, he was helping to distract me from wallowing in my misery. “You got it?”
Claus held up his hands and nodded.
“Good.”
Claus stared back at me.
“Great,” I chirped.
He tipped his head to the side.
“You’re really good at this no talking.”
He nodded.
“Do you want some ice cream? Jane sent over groceries, and she must think I’m drowning my misery in ice cream because she sent over every flavor of the grocery store's ice cream.”
He again nodded.
“Do you care what kind?” I asked.
He shrugged.
“I know I told you we weren’t going to talk, but can you please tell me what kind of ice cream you want?”
He shook his head and stood. He strolled into the kitchen, and I moved into the entryway to watch him go into the freezer, then grab two bowls, and make two heaping bowls of ice cream.
He put everything away and then walked toward me with the two bowls. He handed me one but didn’t let it go when I reached for it. “You never have to wait on me, sweets. You’re the one who deserves to be waited on.” He let go of my bowl and headed back to his spot on the couch.
My vision blurred as I looked at my bowl of ice cream, realizing he had picked my favorite. Pistachio. “How did you–.”
“Tony and I were on the way home from the movies one night, and you called to ask him to bring home ice cream. Pistachio. It’s your favorite.”
That sounded like something I would have done, but I didn’t remember doing it. “And you remembered?”
“I remember the important things, sweets.”
I walked into the living room and stood in front of him. “My favorite ice cream is important?”
He shrugged and leaned around me to look at the TV. “It is to me.”
I plopped down on the couch next to him and tucked my legs under me. “I think it’s best if we go back to no talking.” I didn’t know how to deal with Claus thinking my favorite ice cream was something important he needed to remember.
I had always thought Claus was gorgeous, and more than once had wondered what it would have been like to kiss him, but never in a million years did I think that he thought there were important things about me he needed to remember.
“Whatever you want, sweets.”
And there was that. Sweets.
I had always just been Stevie. No nickname. At least not from Claus.
Now he knocked on my door and called me sweets.
That was… sweet. And totally confusing because I didn’t know what it meant.
I mean, I would know what it meant from anyone but Claus.
