Chapter When I was thirty-three （2000）
When I was thirty-three
I rolled over. Kris lay beside me, facing the window, the long line of his body hidden beneath two comforters. I had to smile. Poor baby. He feels the cold. I listened to the rhythmic sound of his breathing—until I realized I could no longer hear it. I couldn’t hear anything.
That could mean only one thing.
I threw off the comforters, squirmed into my shorts, grabbed my robe, and headed for the door. As soon as I crossed the threshold into the living room, I caught that familiar scent.
He’s here.
I scanned the room, and found him gazing up at the tree.
“You found me.” I’d only moved into the apartment three months before.
He turned to me with a grin. “I can find anyone. Nice place, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I was still working on it, but it was starting to feel like home.
“Why aren’t you at your parents’ place? Was there no summons this year?”
I chuckled. “Things are a little hectic over there. Ben marries his girlfriend Layla in a week’s time, and the house is a mess.
There are wedding presents, the cake is there…
Feeding us all on Christmas Day was the last thing Mom needed.
Plus, she wanted a little breathing space before the wedding.
” I shook my head. “She bought three different outfits.”
He blinked. “I know it’s a New Year’s wedding, but won’t she be a little warm in all that clothing?”
I snorted at the mental image of my mom wearing three dresses, hats, and jackets. “I think she’s finally made her mind up which one she’ll wear.”
Santa returned his gaze to the tree. “Wow. This is beautiful. What did you do, take a course on Christmas tree trimming?”
I put my hands on my hips. “And just what are you implying? That I’m hopeless at trimming trees? Because that’s sure how it sounds.”
He held up both hands. “Hey, obviously that’s not what I’m saying. Didn’t I just tell you how beautiful it is? I am seriously impressed by your skills.”
Aw, crap.
“Why can I never lie to you?” I murmured. Then I sighed. “Look, it’s not my handiwork, okay?” I walked over to the sideboard, picked up a framed photo, and held it out to him. “It’s his.”
Santa gazed at the photo of me and Kris seated at the table, the Thanksgiving spread filling every inch of it. He arched his eyebrows. “Older guy, huh? What a shocker.”
I narrowed my gaze. “You know, you get more sarcastic with every year that passes.” Not that I was complaining. Ours had become a relaxed, comfortable relationship, and the fact that I felt free to speak my mind spoke volumes.
“So? Who is he?” Santa handed the photo back to me. “Is it serious?”
I gazed at it fondly. “His name is Kris. And yes, I think so.” Serious enough that my bed was now his.
“That’s awesome.”
I stared at him. “You want to try that again?”
His brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, you might have said it was awesome, but your tone didn’t quite match.
Would you like to try for a little more sincerity?
” What was wrong with him? Kris was a great guy.
Okay, not everyone was in agreement on that point, but that was just my parents.
They were still getting used to the idea they had a queer son.
“Hey, I meant it. I’m happy for you. It’s about time you found someone. Is he coming over here tomorrow to spend the day with you?” Then he stilled. “Oh. He doesn’t need to. He’s already here.”
“He moved in last week.”
Santa pointed to the liquor cabinet. “May I? It is Christmas Eve, after all.”
I moved swiftly to pour him a whiskey. He smiled when he saw the bottle, and just like that, he was the Santa I’d grown up with. “You remembered.”
I handed him the glass, then gestured to the couch. We sat. “Are you all done for tonight?”
He nodded. “I made certain I had time for you.” His gaze flickered over to where I’d replaced the photo. “How did you meet?”
“At a party. Ben’s house-warming party, actually.”
“Have your parents met him?”
“Sure. That photo was taken at their house at Thanksgiving.”
He sipped his whiskey. “Then it must be serious. I mean, if he’s moved in and all.” Santa put down his glass. “You know what? I just realized something. I’ve got another sack of presents that haven’t been delivered yet. I’d better go sort that out.”
“You only just got here.” My chest tightened.
“I know, but I do have a job to do, right?”
“Well, are you coming back?” My heartbeat raced. Something felt wrong.
“I don’t think so. It might take me a while. But have a great day tomorrow, both of you.” And before I could stop him with another entreaty to stay a while longer, he was gone.
I stared at the glass of whiskey. He didn’t even finish it.
I was no expert, but his exit bore all the signs of Santa running away.
But why?