He looks up sharply. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me." I grin, fearless now in ways I wasn't three days ago. "You hate not being perfect, so you avoid anything where you might fail."
"That's—" He stops. "Accurate."
"I know. I'm getting good at reading you." I start painting my reindeer nose red. "So, here's what's going to happen. You're going to paint something, and it's going to be terrible, and I'm going to love it anyway."
"That's not how this works."
"That's exactly how this works, Justin. You don't get points for perfection. You get points for trying. For showing up. For participating. For being present with me in the moment. Who knows, you might even like it."
He stares at me for a long moment. Then, slowly, he picks up the brush and dips it in gold paint. “You know, I’m supposed to be the bossy one, not you.”
“Yeah, yeah. Sometimes, it’s the submissive who bosses around the Dominant. I believe it’s called topping from the bottom.”
He taps the tip of my nose and leans in close. “Little girl, you will only top from the bottom when I allow it.” His tone of voice sends chills up my spine. “But, if painting this ornament with you will make you happy, I’ll do it.” He moves the brush with gold paint across the ornament. His star is careful, precise, each point evenly coated. I wish he’d have some fun with it. But, for now, I’ll take a gold star, anyway I can get one.
"See?" I say. "It’s not so hard."
"Um, this is,” he holds up the star for me to see, “mediocre, at best."
"It's yours. That makes it perfect."
When we finish, I string both ornaments on ribbons and hang them on a small tree in the corner. Our ornaments side by side paint quite the picture. My messy, enthusiastic reindeer next to his methodical star.
"We should name them," I say.
"Sweetheart, ornaments don't have names."
"Ours do." I point to the reindeer. "This is Chaos."
"Of course it is." He shakes his head.
"And yours is Order."
His mouth twitches. "Subtle."
"I thought so." I step closer, wrap my arms around his waist. "Thank you for doing this."
"Painting ornaments?"
"Being present. Being here with me, not just physically but actually... here."
He kisses my forehead. "Where else would I be?"
"In your head. Worrying about the roads or the park or the hundred other things you usually manage."
"I'm learning to let them wait."
"Good." I rise on my toes, kiss him properly. "Because I like having your full attention."
"You have more than that." His hands settle on my hips, grounding and possessive. "You have all of me, Holly."
By late afternoon, we've explored the entire park. The petting zoo where we call each reindeer by name and feed them all treats by hand. The gingerbread house making cabin, where we find a tub of frosting and eat it straight from the container. He methodically builds the house, and I decorate it with icing and candy. The photo booth where I make him take ridiculous pictures with me wearing Santa hats and fake beards and holding props that make us both laugh.
When we return to the lodge, I'm exhausted in the best way. My cheeks are flushed from cold, legs tired from walking, heart full of something I'm afraid to name yet.
Justin builds up the fire while I collapse on the couch.
