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“What did he say?” I ask Saxon. “Did he like her?”
“Oh yes.”
“Will he ask her back to his place?”
“They’re going for a drink first. He wants to see her again. I guess he’ll play it by ear.”
We get in the Aston, he starts the engine, and heads out onto the road.
“You haven’t given me my birthday present yet,” he points out.
“I did!” With my first paycheck from my new job—which is technically his money, but at least I earned it—I bought him a top that says ‘Papa Bear’ and two matching baby outfits that say ‘Baby Bear’, and a book on the history of Doctor Who. I also painted a self-portrait of myself naked, trying out my new acrylics, which he’s threatening to put in his office at work.
“I didn’t mean that present,” he says. He glances at me and flicks his eyebrows up.
“Fair enough,” I reply. I lick my lips. “I fancy something salty to finish the evening off.”
“Jesus.”
“I think I’m getting a craving for it.”
“Are you trying to make me come off the road?”
“In fact I might make a start now.” I know he won’t let me unbuckle my seat belt, but I lean across and find his zipper, slide it down, then start exploring.
Luckily it’s only a short drive home. When we get there, I make him stay in the car while I take him in my mouth, and he finally gives in, leans back on the headrest, and slides his hands into my hair as I pleasure him. His heartfelt groan when he comes in my mouth is more than enough reward for such an enjoyable task.
*
The lead up to Christmas is somewhat baffling, and I spend most of my time feeling puzzled and bemused as everyone around me gets into the festive mood.
When I was a child, my mother used to take me outside on Christmas Eve to try to spot Santa with his sleigh. She did her best to buy me a few presents to open on Christmas morning, and we always had a large turkey dinner with all the trimmings, even if she had to save up for it for months before.
When I moved up to Auckland, the couple of years when my father was alive weren’t too bad, as at least Greta had to treat me relatively well in front of him, and I did get presents and a decent dinner. But once he died, that all went out the window. There were no more presents, and no more festive food. The day was just like any other, except I always felt bitter, because I knew everyone else in the city was celebrating, while I was confined to my room, alone.
After I left and moved in with Louise, we would save up for a few treats for the day, although it was never anything grand. This year, I think of her fondly as I wrap the presents Saxon and I have bought for his family. I haven’t heard from her since I came down to Wellington, and her number is unobtainable, so I think she might have got rid of her old phone. I’m not surprised. I knew that would happen. When you’re in the position we were in, you can’t afford to worry about someone else. All your energy is taken up with looking after yourself. Just like we cut ourselves off from our families, so she’s cut herself off from me. It makes me sad, but not resentful. I don’t like to think of how she’s probably still struggling while I’ve landed on my feet. Maybe one day I’ll look her up again.
For now, I have my new family to think about. On Christmas Eve, we pack up the Aston, and Saxon drives us up to his parents’ place. Kip and Damon are already there, and not long after we arrive, Brendan, Jenny, Kennedy, Jackson, and baby Eddie also turn up, with Pongo of course.
Mae and Neal’s chef has put on an elaborate buffet for the evening, and now I’m beginning to feel more confident with the family, I’m happy to help myself to the food, and to sit and eat outside with them in the warm, late sun. As it grows dark, for a while they light citronella candles and we sit talking and laughing with carols and Christmas songs playing in the background, but eventually we move inside to the living room.
They have a huge Christmas tree in the corner, heavily laden with beautiful decorations, many of which date back to when the boys were young, and there’s a stack of presents beneath it for the next morning. Fairy lights in the tree and around the room make it feel like a grotto.
The room has two three-seater sofas and two armchairs, and Neal brings in beanbags for the extra seating, while Mae collects a few throws for anyone who’s feeling the cold. Saxon pulls up a beanbag in front of my armchair and flops into it, pulling my feet onto his lap so he can massage them. I don’t complain.
There are lots of chocolate and snacks, and the wine flows like water. I’m not drinking, but I persuade Saxon to have a few glasses as he’s not driving home. He’s been very sweet, and he hasn’t drunk at all since we’ve been together, but I don’t expect him to stay sober over Christmas while he’s with his family.
We play some games, including Charades, which I’m not very good at as I’ve never played it before, but they’re patient with me, teaching me all the moves, and I try to combat my shyness and join in as much as I can.
Eventually though, the games are put away, and everyone sits around talking and laughing, apparently unwilling to call it a night. Eddie has long since fallen asleep, and he’s in his cot in Kennedy and Jackson’s room, with the baby speaker on the table so they can hear if he needs them.
Kip spends a lot of time typing on his phone, and I catch him smiling occasionally.
“Is he texting Alice?” I murmur to Saxon.
“I think so.” He winks at me. When he asked Kip how his date went, Kip apparently just said, “Great,” but when Saxon asked if he was going to see Alice again, Kip said, “The jury’s still out,” so we don’t know exactly what happened. Judging by his smile, though, they’re still in contact, so that’s good.
I stifle a yawn, thinking that maybe I should suggest we go to bed soon or I’ll doze off in front of everyone. Saxon sees me, and his lips curve up. He’s been a little odd today. Still laughing and joking, teasing everyone, but distracted, thoughtful, I don’t know why. Now, he meets my eyes, and I suddenly realize what emotion I think he’s feeling. He’s nervous.
