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And what I want is for Bodhi to stay forever.
Legally.
So that I can own his ass if he ever tries to leave me.
“Your first marriage should always be for love, and you and Bodhi are totes in love.” Millie gives me a reassuring nod, unclasping her hands to slide one across the counter and rest it on top of mine that’s still the only thing holding me up at this point. “And if you don’t want a big fancy wedding, don’t do a big fancy wedding. My third wedding was in a bathroom at Vin Diesel’s house, and Adam Levine officiated. But the third one is always for money and or pity, so we don’t need to worry about that one right now.”
Millie pats my hand and then grabs her tea, taking a sip while everything I have ever thought about life and marriage and what I wanted out of my future explodes inside my brain in a blazing inferno.
I’ll never find another guy who loves me the way Bodhi does, or takes care of me the way Bodhi does, or puts up with my bullshit the way Bodhi does. Who loves me because of my crazy and not in spite of it. Who didn’t care why I loved fire, only that it made me happy, and who made me throw out all my plans once before, and I guess it didn’t turn out so bad. And who continues to put all of his wants and needs on the back burner just so I’m content.
Like by whisking me away from home because I was being a stubborn little shit, who was overly annoyed by all things Christmas. He’s given me the world, and all I’ve done is take. If I want to make absolutely certain I don’t turn out like my parents, I need to stop being so selfish and start doing more things to make him happy. You know, other than blowjobs.
Not even bothering to blink away the tears this time or pretend like I have something in my eye, I pull a piece of paper out of the front pocket of my hoodie, and the second reason why I couldn’t sleep tonight. Sliding it across the counter toward Millie, I shove my hands back in my hoodie pocket when she grabs it.
“You probably know how to speak Bodhi. Can you decipher this list? Is this what he actually wants for Christmas this year, or was he just really high and wrote down every Christmassy thing he could think of?” I ask, as Millie unfolds the piece of paper I read by the glow of the hippo tree lights in our room, and then once again a few minutes before she came in here and caught me playing with matches.
When I couldn’t sleep, I snuck out of bed and fished through Bodhi’s wallet to grab the pack of matches he always keeps in there for me for emergencies. That alone was enough to get me all choked up while I was tiptoeing around our room, aside from being an emotional mess about the proposal. And then I found this list shoved behind his driver’s license.
“Oh my God, it’s Bodhi’s Best Christmas Ever List of Necessities!” Millie squeals as she scans the list.
“Wait, you know what that is? You’ve seen this before?”
“Of course I know what this is! I was sitting next to him in the back of the van the night he dove into the ocean and wrote it! I met him and the guys in a 7-11 parking lot to say goodbye before they headed out of town. I can’t believe he still carries this around with him!” she gushes, making me feel like an even bigger bitch than I did when I first found it in his wallet.
I thought it was something he wrote down recently, like a weird, random list of presents he wanted, and Christmas things he wanted to do, and I felt bad I’ve kept him holed up here at The Redinger House not doing anything fun.
“All he ever wanted was the perfect Christmas like the ones he saw on TV. He was so cute about it back then, and he said that someday, he would have the best Christmas ever, and in order for that to happen, it would have to include all the things on this list,” Millie finishes, stabbing the knife deeper into my chest as she refolds the paper and hands it back to me.
Nothing can make you feel like the biggest asshole in the world than knowing your boyfriend gave up his Christmas dreams just because you have a stick up your ass about the holidays. I know all he’s ever wanted is the perfect Christmas, but I was too busy freaking out, and feeling sorry for myself, and making it all about me to remember that. He’s been dreaming about the perfect Christmas not just for the last twelve years, but for his entire life. And all I’ve done is pout, and roll my eyes, and act like the Grinch who stole Christmas. But in my defense, that’s just what my face usually looks like.
