“Somebody has to. I don’t have anything else to spend my money on, so why not? Delphine doesn’t mind. I asked her first to be sure I wasn’t stepping on toes.”
“You’re a good person, Kobe.”
He shrugged dismissively, his gaze wandering to Cosette. “Just doing my part. Kids shouldn’t suffer.”
Something inside me melted at the look in his eyes. He meant it. I had a feeling this man would go to war for his little brother. The wrongs of the world, the ones most people overlooked, bothered him on a level I was only beginning to understand, and it endeared me to him even more.
Later that night, after bathing Cosette and helping her plate cookies and pour milk for Santa, I put her to bed. Kobe and I retired to the living room with strong tumblers of rum and eggnog.
The drink seemed to make Kobe suspicious. He studied it warily, inspected the color and dusting of cinnamon on the top, and sniffed it more than once. “I’m not sure I’m going to like this. Eggnog has never been my thing.”
“It’s not plain eggnog. It has a generous kick of spiced rum and a hint of cinnamon to mitigate the flavor. Trust me.”
He sipped cautiously, letting it sit in his mouth for a time before swallowing. After a second sip and spending an excessive amount of time smacking his lips, Kobe waffled his head from side to side. “It’s not bad. Could use a heavier punch.”
“Do you want more rum?”
“No, it’s fine. Is this a tradition for you?”
“My father enjoyed rum and eggnog at Christmas. He wasn’t a big drinker, but he always indulged around the holidays. I was allowed to sip from his glass when I was young. As a teen, I was given the privilege of sharing one drink with him after dinner, but only one.”
Kobe adopted a wistful look. I recognized it as a combination of longing and regret. It surfaced when I broached topics of a familial nature.
“Are your parents still around?” he asked. “Do you see them?”
I stared into my drink, reflecting on the past. “They’re around, but I don’t see them. They live in Saguenay. It’s more than a six-hour drive from here. I went to McGill University after high school and was hired in Gatineau not long after I graduated. I used to visit on occasion before… life happened. I buried myself in grief after losing Angelique, so…”
“I’m sorry.”
I shook my head dismissively, indulging in a long and desperate sip of rum and eggnog, wishing we could change the subject. The relationship with my parents fell apart a long time ago. Repairing it was not something I was ready to do. In time, maybe, but not yet.
“Do they see their granddaughter?”
“No. They don’t know she exists.”
Kobe flinched, obviously shocked at the revelation. I waited for him to ask why, but the question never came. Instead, he shuffled closer on the couch until we were leaning against one another, holding each other up in a way that was becoming familiar. Two men, two vastly different stories of heartache and pain. Christmas was usually a time for wallowing in grief, but I didn’t want to go there tonight, and I suspected neither did Kobe.
The lights in the living room were off, leaving the blinking Christmas tree bulbs as the only illumination. I took comfort in the press of Kobe’s body beside me. His warmth. His solidity.
Every consecutive sip he took of his drink occurred with the same evaluation as the first, and I chuckled. “You don’t have to drink it if you don’t like it. I can get you something else.”
“Oh, I’m drinking it. It’s a tradition. Besides, it’s growing on me.”
“That’s likely the rum messing with your head.”
He grinned and held up the tumbler. We clinked glasses without toasting anything, yet somehow the gesture held meaning. We were here. We were together. We were sharing a holiday as a new couple with an unknown future laid out before us. Where it led and if we would get there was anyone’s guess.
At one point, Kobe removed his phone and pulled up a music app. Selecting a jazzy Christmas instrumental playlist, he adjusted the volume so it played softly in the background and set the device on the coffee table.
“Is that okay?”
“It’s perfect.”
The night was young. I had yet to wrap Cosette’s presents, but they could wait. The atmosphere Kobe had set was romantic and calming, and I wanted to bask in its loveliness for a while longer.
I hadn’t thought to buy Kobe a gift—my priorities were elsewhere—but as he hummed a familiar carol and stared trancelike at the twinkling Christmas tree with a lost look in his eyes, I suspected that inviting him to spend the holiday was gift enough.
We talked long into the night, nothing serious or deep. He discussed his favorite movies, and I chatted about my favorite books. We recounted tales from our university days, both positive and embarrassing. We laughed. We drank. We simply existed in the moment.
