Chapter 34
S omething slams into the wall, waking me up with a startle. Grumbling with disapproval, I seek Lex in the bed—which I shouldn’t even have to, given how small my old bed is. But he isn’t there, so I let out another disappointed mumble. The slam happens again, and I realize it’s Rafael playing basketball outside. The backboard is right against my bedroom wall, and this isn’t the first time he’s woken me up like this. Ugh, what time is it?
For the past two nights, I haven’t slept well. It’s hard to when your boyfriend coyly turns you on as you’re trying to fall asleep. He still doesn’t understand why I won’t have sex while we’re here, and I suspect it’s because he isn’t used to cheap construction and thin walls. But I didn’t give in, which I’m proud of, even though falling asleep took me a while.
Yesterday was flawless. Lex had a few chess games with my dad, which the latter won, somehow. It’s very uncharacteristic of Lex to let him win, so it betrays how much he wants my family to accept him and needs this to go well. In the afternoon, I went shopping with my mom and abuela to get everything we’ll need for Christmas dinner while the men handled a firewood delivery. Then we all watched Die Hard in the evening while eating takeout Chinese food—a true Walker tradition. Because of the lack of room, I was plastered onto Lex the whole time, which was fantastic.
When the ball slams against the wall again, I push the covers down with a curse. That asshole knows exactly where my room is, so he’s aware of what he’s doing.
I get up, slip on an oversized plush hoodie and warm pants, and go downstairs. I find my mom and abuela at the kitchen table, playing a game of Spanish Scrabble, and use the fact that I’m there to pour myself a mug of tea. Something smells delicious, and when I look into the oven, I see a batch of cookies in there.
Then I exit through the back door, ready to scold my brother for his lack of consideration for my beauty sleep. As I reach him, though, I realize he isn’t the only one to blame. Lex is right there with him, wearing a very tight, black, long-sleeved crewneck, and loose jogging pants of the same color. Gosh, this would work a lot better to get me to cave in than “accidentally” rubbing his cock onto my ass in bed.
They stop when they see me, and Lex comes to give me the first kiss of the day.
“You look revolting. What happened to you?” Rafael asks with a grimace.
“Why are you even here? Don’t you have a house?” I don’t bother signing since he can easily read my lips.
“I should have stayed there because that’s not a good sight.”
After squinting at him, I turn to Lex. “Defend my honor and annihilate him, baby.”
“Will do.”
I sit on the cold curb to watch their match. Lex is slightly taller and clearly broader than Rafa, but their talent at basketball is about the same, with a slight advantage to my brother. He’s a little quicker, and his sleight of hand fools Lex a couple of times. Rafa is a fantastic dribbler.
I’ve been there for about ten minutes when my mom joins us, holding a plate of freshly baked cookies.
“This is my best recipe,” my mom proudly says as Lex takes one after Rafa.
I absolutely do not expect Lex to answer with, “Andrea once told me those are why her body looks like it does, so you get my most heartfelt thank you for them, Isabella.”
I go crimson while my mom giggles and says, “What a charmer you are, Alexander…”
“You’re unbelievable,” I scold him once she’s gone.
“What those did to your ass is what’s unbelievable,” he counters with a wink, biting into his warm cookie.
Who the hell is this man?! I didn’t even know he could wink!
Although I expected this trip to go well, I don’t think I foresaw how quickly Lex would feel comfortable around my folks. Maybe it’s my influence, or maybe it’s how thoroughly welcomed into this family he feels. But seeing him get along so well with everyone warms my heart. They’re all fond of him, from my brother to my abuela—whom I’m pretty sure is crushing hard on Lex. The woman’s a lot like me, so that was bound to happen .
Once my tea is finished, I return inside to prepare for the day. That’s what I’m doing when someone knocks on my door. It’s MC holding a small blue box.
“ Nieta , I bought those yesterday,” she explains in Spanish, showing me what I now see is a box of Mack’s earplugs. “If you and your man ever want to get frisky, knock three times on the wall, and I’ll whip those out.”
A little incredulous, I protest with, “We aren’t animals, you know. We can spend five days without getting frisky .”
“Andrea, corazon , have you not seen how he looks at you? He isn’t fine with five days. And you need to… what do they call it? Baby trap him. Have his child now, so he can’t leave.”
This time, I laugh at her shamelessness. “I’m not doing that, you old bat. I don’t need it to know he’ll stay with me forever.”
She doesn’t believe me and mumbles, “If this family loses him, I will blame you.”
“I’ll blame myself enough, don’t worry.”
She shakes her head, still disapproving. “If not to baby trap him, do it for people like me who haven’t had any hot action in almost ten years, you ungrateful girl.”
After a quick moment of perplexity, I say, “Wait, Abuelo died twenty-two years ago.”
“I said what I said. Now, finish getting ready. I need you to do some peeling for me.” My jaw hangs as I watch her walk away, discovering a new side of her. She’s an absolute riot, and I love her so much for it.
I help MC in the kitchen most of the morning while Mom and Dad clean. Lex alternates between helping them and us, and I seek him out before lunch, eager to spend some alone time with him after our busy morning.
I find him in my father’s home office, and as I come closer, I see a script open on the screen. He pulls his chair back as I approach, and I don’t hesitate to prop myself on his lap, needing the closeness.
“Coleman, we have to do something about your addiction to work. What will I do if you drop dead from working too hard?”
“The same but without me.”
“But then Jensen and Idris would also die from overworking,” I tease.
His low chuckle combined with his lopsided smirk have butterflies fluttering in my stomach, and then lower. Ah, fuck, maybe we are animals, after all.
“This isn’t work. Your father created an app for your mom for their anniversary, and he wanted me to look at it and ensure everything’s okay. ”
“Oh? What does it do?”
“He gathered three hundred and sixty-five pictures and videos of their thirty years of marriage, with captions and dates as well as personal notes. Every day for the next year, your mom will get a notification that another one of those memories has unlocked.”
Wow… This is incredibly romantic and an insane amount of work. As Lex shows me a few of the pictures and clips, I can’t help but feel emotional. There are pictures of holidays, birthdays, Christmases, parties, and simple moments enjoying a road trip or a board game.
Lex stops on a picture of a Christmas morning where my parents are embracing and smiling at the camera, while an eight-year-old me chases an eleven-year-old Rafael in the background to get my brand-new doll back.
“Everything runs smoothly, so I’m fairly confident he asked for my help to show me how high the bar is,” Lex explains. “And I hope I’ll make you this happy for thirty years and more, Andrea. You deserve everything, and I’ll do my best to give it to you.”
“Lex, I have no doubt we can be even happier than my parents were. But we have to take more pictures because we’re severely lacking in that department.”
Reassured, his hand clasps my nape to kiss me. When he lets go of me, I gaze at him lovingly. “What is certain is that I can never be happier with anyone else. So even if we don’t have three hundred and sixty-five good moments on film in three decades, I’ll still be the happiest I can ever be.”
He nods gravely, and I give him another longing peck. Because I’ve been missing him all morning and am a little slex deprived, I let it turn into more. Then he makes it even worse by running his tempting hands all over me, under my knitted sweater, over my jean-clad ass… I’m not even sure how I end up straddling his lap, but here I am, pressed onto the familiar hardness of his dick.
“Is that an erection in your pocket, or are you carrying a banana for emergency potassium?” I murmur into our kiss.
His surprised laugh forces us away, and he looks at me with sparkly eyes. “My God, you’re ridiculous.”
“I know, but you’re stuck with me.”
“Not yet. I can still back out of this.”
“Don’t make me act on my abuela’s suggestion to baby trap you, Alexander.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “She suggested what, now?”
“The woman was practically volunteering to rip my IUD out. She is ready for great-grandbabies. Especially if they’re half you. ”
His big hands slither under my sweater again, warm and tender. “And we’ll give her some, I’m confident about it, my love. But I’ve been meaning to—”
It seems I can’t handle him talking about us having babies and calling me “my love” in the same sentence because I dive in and interrupt him with a kiss. He’s quick to welcome my enterprise, his tongue answering mine with matching intensity. When my hips begin to grind onto him, he groans, “Is this a good idea, freckles?”
“I don’t know… All I know is I’m craving some potassium right now.”
He chuckles and, more reasonable than me, slows our kiss until it comes to a full halt. The way he looks up at me is so full of love that I wonder if MC’s unorthodox techniques might be a good idea, after all. I can’t risk losing that man, can I?
His thoughts took the same path because he says, “Andrea, about the baby-making process…”
This time, it isn’t me that interrupts him, but the door that suddenly opens. Mortified, I scramble out of Lex’s lap and turn around to see it’s my abuela. She doesn’t comment on what she just witnessed, but the skeptical brow she raises at me is eloquent enough.
“Lunch is ready. We’re waiting for you two,” she explains.
“We’re, uh… coming,” I hesitate.
A mischievous smile bends her lips when she retorts, “Not right now, no.” Then she turns around and adds as she walks away, “Three firm knocks, nieta !”
“What was that about?” Lex wonders, confused.
“Nothing. Let’s go eat before she tells everyone what she saw.”
T he ugly sweaters we’re expected to wear serve as another reminder that the Walkers are everything my family isn’t. They’re loving, caring, fun, warm, forgiving… It’s never been more evident to me that, had I been born to parents more like hers, I wouldn’t be the person I am. Not even close.
They never treated Rafael differently despite his disability, while my parents never forgave me for being born different. Michael and Isabella Walker wouldn’t have cared about the odd wiring of my brain. Not even a little. And that’s why I’m confident Andrea wouldn’t care about me passing it on to our children .
“Looking good, boss,” she says with humor as she returns from the bathroom.
Her Christmas sweater is even uglier than mine—which has twinkling lights embedded in the reindeer design. Her mom bought it for me yesterday since I’ve never owned anything like this. Andrea’s sweater, though… It has a Santa Claus wearing fishnets and a thong dancing around a pole.
“I’m so going to win this year,” she says with pride, pulling on her sweater to look down at it.
“What’s the prize anyway?”
“We get to pick the Christmas morning activity. Rafa always takes us hiking, my dad forces a Star Wars trilogy marathon, Mom makes us clean the house from top to bottom, and MC demands to be pampered like a queen.”
“And what would you choose?”
“Hmm, I’m not sure yet. I might ask for four hours alone with you while they go do Rafa’s hike,” she suggests.
“You’re the one doing this to yourself, Andrea,” I remind her with a chuckle.
“I know,” she whines. “But you’ll fuck my brains out when we get back home, and that’ll make up for it.”
I know she means home in Seattle, but part of me takes it as my apartment since that’s where we spend most of our time together, and I don’t miss the way my heart expands at the idea. Somehow, that gives me the courage to give her one of the gifts I have planned for her.
“Before we head down, I have a couple of gifts for you,” I explain.
“Oh?”
“Yeah, they’re more personal than the ones downstairs.”
She seems elated by the prospect, practically wriggling with excitement. So, I fetch the first one, a small velvet box. “It’s not a ring,” I feel compelled to say as she takes it.
She nods, slides the ribbon to the side, and opens the lid. A key to my apartment sits on the red cloth, and her eyes widen before she looks up. “Lex, you… you want me to move in?”
“This doesn’t have to be for that, yet. Not until you feel ready. But you’ve been to my place a lot, and I want you to feel comfortable coming in and out, so I figured you might as well have your own key.”
She smiles at the box, her earlier surprise giving way to joy. “It’s kind of perfect, actually. I wanted to fill up those drawers you emptied for me as an early Christmas gift. But then all this happened, and it fell through.”
“I would have loved that, freckles,” I say, bending down to give her a small, thankful kiss .
Her mother shouts our names from downstairs, reminding us that her family awaits us. “Okay, this one’s also for you only,” I say, pulling out an envelope from my back pocket.
She’s quick to open it, and when she pulls out the picture I slipped in there before we left Seattle, her jaw drops. “Oh. My. God,” she practically shouts. “Look at this little slice of adorableness! How old were you?”
“Ten.”
“And what’s the trophy for?”
“State chess tournament.”
“Wow…” She turns suspicious as she asks, “You’ve been letting my dad win, haven’t you?
“Yes. He’s good, but not that good.”
“That’s what I thought…” She looks again at the picture and sighs. “Ugh, you were so fucking cute, baby!”
“I’m still cute.”
“No, you’re not. You’re hot, like, insanely hot. And sometimes you do adorable things. But you’re not ‘cute.’”
“I am. You just don’t see it.”
“All right, I’ll ask downstairs, and they’ll settle this and tell us if you’re still this cute.”
I’m eighty percent sure she’s joking, but those twenty percent tug at my guts. She might find me cute in that picture, all I can see is the kid who used to be called Cole fat man during recess. “This is for your eyes only.”
“My family and I have no secrets,” she playfully counters.
When she tries to walk past me to exit her room, I step to the side to stop her. Then again, on the other side. “Ugh, okay,” she gives up, rolling her eyes. “Let me put on another layer of mascara and we can join them.”
Something doesn’t feel right about her giving up that easily. That’s why I keep my eyes on her while she enters her bathroom. It’s only when she rushes to come out through the other door, the one that opens to her brother’s old bedroom, that I understand she didn’t give up. She merely changed strategies. Fuck .
“Andrea,” I threaten with a groan.
I’m out in the hallway at the same moment she exits her brother’s room, closer to the stairs. She races there with the same determination I have as I run after her. Excitement has her giggling as she hurries down the steps while I chase her. “Andrea, I will punish you for this,” I try, almost caught up.
But that doesn’t work. Not even a little. And when I finally grab a fistful of her ugly sweater, we’re at the bottom of the stairs. She squeals, keeping the picture away from me, and before I can take it, her mother appears with a tray with glasses of what looks like eggnog.
I immediately let go of her daughter before she gets the wrong impression, and Andrea gives me an impish look as she hurries to her mother’s side. “Mom, look at how cute Lex was as a kid,” she explains, bringing the photo in front of her.
Isabella squints and extends her neck back to see the picture better, and a genuine smile claims her lips. “What a handsome boy you were! Not that I’m surprised.”
My determination not to let anyone else see the picture melts away as I understand that Andrea never meant it mockingly. She wholeheartedly finds me cute there and knows her family will agree. Had there been a chance of them making fun of my chubby past, she’d have kept it to herself.
Maria arrives with a pitcher that contains more eggnog, also coming from the kitchen. Accepting my defeat, I join them as she looks at the picture. “Where did those little cheeks go,” Maria says, reaching up to pinch my cheek.
“He got a lot less cute, didn’t he?” Andrea mischievously asks.
“No, he’s still very cute,” they counter together before walking to the living room.
“I told you,” I proudly say to Andrea.
“That’s because they only know the perfect son-in-law side of you,” she argues, still refusing to admit her defeat. “I know the one who fucks me into the mattress until I forget my own name.”
“That might be why. Now, let’s go join your family, freckles. The perfect son-in-law wouldn’t make them wait.”
She giggles as I pull her against me. “You’re so full of yourself.”
“Well, you refuse to be full of me, so that’s the next best thing.”
C hristmas with the Walkers starts in the living room, where we have a drink while everyone gets to open one present. Kate is with us, and I understand this is where she usually spends her Christmas, as she isn’t close to her family. It seems that Isabella and Michael are good at welcoming strays into theirs.
I get a cookbook from Andrea’s abuela, and the title has me smiling so hard my cheeks hurt. “Mexican Recipes for Gringos…”
“That’s for when you miss me and I’m not there to feed you well, guapo ,” she explains.
“Thank you, Maria. I’ll try my hand at it first, and then we’ll invite you to Seattle so you can see if I’ve been a good student.”
“Great idea!”
The last one to open her gift is Andrea, who gets a framed photo of her and Kate that Rafael took a few years back.
Dinner is unsurprisingly delicious, and the conversation is lively and engaging, flowing easily between us. With our bellies well-filled, we then migrate back to the living room for the rest of the gifts.
“So, we open everything tonight?” I ask as I sit on the couch next to Andrea.
“Yes, that’s the Mexican way,” Isabella explains. “Where’s the hat?”
“Right here,” Michael answers, walking in with a worn-out Fedora. When he sets it upside down on the coffee table, I see it’s full of folded pieces of paper.
“It was my abuelo’s hat,” Andrea explains. “He used to wear it all the time. This is our way to honor him every year.”
“I see …”
“Do you know how this works, mijo ?” Isa asks me.
“I’m afraid not, no.”
“We play charades and the one who guesses right either picks a gift for themselves or someone else. Then it’s their turn to mime, and we keep going until all the gifts are gone.”
Although I’m not looking forward to having to mime anything, I can’t help but appreciate the idea behind it and how it effortlessly includes Rafael. Since it’s my first time here, they insist I mime first. The few glasses of eggnog and wine loosened me up enough to agree without too much protest. Turns out miming a slug isn’t that hard if one’s willing to writhe on the floor.
A full hour of laughter and shouts unfold, punctuated by opening presents. It gets a little too much for me at points, so I dissociate a few times. Andrea notices but lets me retreat into my own head, holding my hand in support while the others keep going. It’s no surprise that most of them give a present to someone rather than take one for themselves whenever they guess right. Andrea’s giving nature definitely comes from them.
Michael loves the digital arcade machine I got for him, which will be delivered in the new year, and Maria Carmen immediately puts on the row of pearls I bought for her. Isabella was trickier, but she seems to love the year’s worth of facials and massages I arranged with a local salon. I got Rafael a vintage camera with film, which was Andrea’s idea, and although I didn’t know Kate would be among us, I made up for it by offering her a weekend trip with her best friend in the city of her choice, all expenses paid .
They’re already trying to agree on a destination when Michael hands me a flat, three-foot-by-three-foot package. Andrea stops talking and focuses on me as I open the package, which tells me this might be hers. I can feel the frame as I manipulate the gift, so I understand it’s a painting or something.
I remove enough bands of tape to slip it out, and when I see it, my brain shortcuts from the multitude of thoughts and emotions that flood it.
There are four custom illustrations of us, of the pictures we took in the photo booth, each of them in their quarter of the framed print. Not only that, but I recognize who drew and colored them because I’ve reread their comics dozens of times. She somehow got the artists from my favorite comic book series to draw us like this. They altered the original photographs, and instead of the turtleneck I wore that evening, I’m wearing an open white shirt with a Superman suit underneath it, and she has Wonder Woman’s golden headband across her forehead while her red dress resembles the Themysciran’s bustier.
I’m so stunned by this, so flabbergasted, that I forget to watch my language as I ask, “How the—How the fuck did you do this?”
“I asked very nicely. And I offered a bunch of money.”
No fucking way. This is-this is insane. Those artists I obsessed over my whole childhood drew me, us , as superheroes…
“You took me by surprise for your birthday, so I planned your Christmas present way ahead, to make up for it. You like it?”
There’s enough hesitation in her tone to let me know she’s actually uncertain how to interpret my reaction. “Like it? Andrea, this is the best gift I have ever received!”
“No, I am the best gift,” she counters. “This can be a close second.”
Mindless of her family, I hold the frame with one hand and pull her in to thank her with an elated kiss. She giggles but doesn’t resist, leaning closer into my clumsy embrace. As soon as I let her go, I look at the gift again. “Can we see?” Isabella asks, curious. I hand it to her and return my attention to Andrea.
“This makes me feel terrible about my gift for you,” I protest. “It’s not enough.”
“Which one is it?”
“The, uh, the brown one over there,” I explain, pointing at one of the last packages under the tree.
Ignoring the rules, she slithers to it and picks it up—her family is too distracted by the portraits to protest. She tears through the paper and reveals a thick binder with the letters I. R. I. S. embossed on it. Curious, she flips it open to a random page and reads what’s there. “Is this a manual for Iris?”
“Yes, it’s all her functions, commands, bypasses… I’ve changed your clearance already, so you have access to her core commands now,” I explain. I knew she’d like the gift, but the way her face distorts with delight still pleases me greatly. I come closer after making sure they’re all still occupied by the drawings, and whisper. “And this also gives you access to my ‘secret’ computer.”
That’s the cherry on top since she grins so wide I could probably count all her teeth. “You’re allowed to look ,” I continue firmly. “But that’s it, Andrea. You’re not doing anything other than looking, is that clear?”
“Of course… Like, what else do you think I’d do?”
“I can never be too careful with you, my clever dork. Oh, this reminds me. I also have a riddle for you.”
“Oh?”
Everyone’s occupied trying to guess Michael’s following charade, so I tell Andrea the clues I came up with. “From mind to foot, I belong to one woman. Now, all can know with a simple look. Her two favorite toys wrapped in one man. Who knew a little ink was all it took?”
Perplexed, she ponders for a moment, which can’t be easy with her family shouting around us. “Did you get a tattoo?” she asks. I shake my head. “Did you bring Jensen or Idris?” she then whispers.
“No,” I chuckle.
“Do you have one of the Chrises in?”
“The Chrises?”
“The plugs. From small to big they’re Pratt, Pine, Evans, and Hemsworth.”
I laugh with all my chest this time. “That’s a good guess, but no.”
Again, she tries to figure it out for a moment. “Then I don’t know. What is it?”
“Do you not understand the concept of a riddle, Walker?”
“I’ve always been too impatient for that. Please, tell me.” I adamantly shake my head. Resigned, she makes me repeat the riddle.
She still hasn’t figured it out by the time the festive evening ends, but I refuse to give her more clues. She’s too clever not to eventually figure it out. As we settle in bed for the night after our respective showers, I’m surprised to find myself eager to be three hundred and sixty-four days into the future so we can do this all over again.
The Walkers’ Christmas is full of fun traditions, and I hope we’ll keep them alive once we’ve built our own branch of the family tree. It would make me infinitely happier than spending our holidays in the Swiss Alps, surrounded by the entire Coleman clan. Maybe over time my sisters would even join us for our cozy little celebrations.
I’m sure they’d love it as much as I do.
C hristmas has always had a special place in my heart, but getting to do it with Lex was like a dream come true. Having all the people I love the most together made for one of the best evenings in my life. My folks have accepted him like one of us, as they did Kate all those years ago, and it’s like another amazing Christmas gift.
Elated, I wriggle a little closer to Lex, not ready to open my eyes and fully wake up yet. His arm is around me, his hand over my boob, under my T-shirt. He tugs me closer, like the greedy man he is.
“Merry Christmas, my love,” he mumbles in a throaty voice.
Ugh, it shouldn’t be legal to be so happy when the day hasn’t even started yet. I’m grinning like a lunatic as I twist around to see his gorgeous face, light stubble, and messy hair. “Merry Christmas, baby.”
We move to kiss each other at the same time, our limbs entangling amorously, desperate to touch everywhere all at once. We lose track of time, hands coursing, fingers digging, tongues hungry, nails scratching…
“I love that your family has so many Christmas traditions,” he explains, his lips lowering down my neck. “I think we should start one of our own, too.”
“Like what?”
“What do you think of Christmilingus?” He’s lazily seducing me, his hands pulling up my T-shirt, his lips drawing sinful patterns on my heated skin.
An irresistible laugh shakes me. “Gosh, I wonder what that’s about…”
There’s a smile in his voice when he says, “You’ll catch on.”
My T-shirt is completely out of the way, so Lex kisses a nipple before wrapping his lips around the other one and torturing me with soft nibbling.
“Lex, you know we can’t do this,” I protest, purely out of principle.
“Well, I won the ugliest Christmas sweater contest, so I can choose what we do this morning.”
“You won because you got sympathy votes. Your sweater wasn’t even good.”
“What a sore loser you are, freckles. Who did you vote for?”
“Myself. ”
His chuckle fans over my belly, below my navel, and something clenches beneath the skin there. Fuck, I’m so close to giving in… “Lex, we’ll do this the day after tomorrow,” I beg.
Although my mind wants to fight him a little more, my body caves in. My hips lift to help him remove my booty shorts and underwear.
“I’m used to having my presents on Christmas morning, not the evening before, Andrea. So, let me open mine, will you?”
Okay, fuck this. I’m not equipped to resist seductive Lex.
“Go lock both doors,” I command.
With a triumphant smile, he jumps out of the bed to comply—the main one first, then the shared bathroom. When he returns, I’ve removed my T-shirt and pushed the covers away. His famished gaze as he crawls back in bed to settle on top of me makes me shiver from head to toe. Fuck, there’s no way I won’t make a sound.
“If you make me scream, Alexander, you’ll be in trouble.”
“Let’s make sure that doesn’t happen, then…”
Something utterly filthy spreads in my brain when he brings my balled-up underwear to my lips, pushing it into my mouth with two domineering fingers. Lex’s eyes darken with need, liking this as much as I do. Jesus fucking Christ… Here’s the Lex no one could ever find cute, no matter how adorable he used to be as a child.
When I don’t remove it, meeting his gaze with determination, he approves with what sounds like a purr. “My filthy girl,” he appreciatively murmurs right before he dives between my legs to drop a kiss over the curly mound.
As he lowers to focus on my eagerly waiting clit, I accept that this is exactly how I wanted to start Christmas morning, despite the settings. Had I won the vote yesterday, I might have introduced Lex to Christmallatio.
I still might, right after he’s done with me. I’m sure he’ll find it very entertaining, too.