I shake my head. “These aren’t those kinds of presents. I saw this thing online where a guy wanted to surprise his girlfriend with different cutesy activities to do for the holidays. Coupley things. Some romantic. Some nostalgic.” I shrug. “I gave the desk a list of fifty very specific items and asked them to randomly choose twelve, wrap them, and leave them here.”
“That’s really adorable,” he says.
Rolling my eyes, I gesture to the pile again. “Choose one.”
He looks at them and chooses. I watch as he tears off the twine and then pulls the wrapping away carefully. As if what’s inside might break. Honestly, I’m just glad I didn’t put anything sexy on that list. This could be awkward.
The box he reveals is a deluxe gingerbread house kit. With a wide grin, I take it from him and head back to the kitchen.“There were options I found online where we actually have to bake the gingerbread, but I’ve heard that it’s a very finicky cookie so I thought pre-made was best. Also…” I start sorting through the cabinets until I find what I’m looking for. “I requested this extra add-on package if they chose to go with that, because there’s never enough candy or icing.”
Edries is watching me, a really kind of hot smile on his face as he does. I’m not a self-conscious person, but the way he’s looking at me threatens to make me blush, so I turn my attention to getting the house unpacked. I’m just about to tell him he doesn’t have to do this with me if he doesn’t want to when he pinches a large dot of icing on his finger and puts it in his mouth.
The face he makes has me laughing. “That’s pure sugar!”
“It’s far too much sugar,” he says, smacking his lips. “Ew.”
I laugh. “It’s meant to be cement, Edries.”
“Don’t you eat these things after?”
“No. They’re to look at. It’s actually a waste of food.”
I’m still somewhat giggling when he shudders and pops a piece of candy in his mouth. “Much better.”
Once we get going, he looks like he’s having a great time. We keep stealing looks at each other and I wonder if the strange heat that’s between us is something only I feel or if he does, too. Was the kiss enough to get it out of his system, or is he remembering his mouth on my skin like I am?
So I don’t focus and obsess on that, I ask, “Did you do this with your kids?”
Edries sighs. “No. I always wanted to, but Bernice was not the kind of person that liked ‘peasant projects’ as she called them. If I was feeling nostalgic as she said, then she hired professional bakers to build us a gingerbread town for me and the kids to enjoy looking at, but that we didn’t actually have to lower ourselves to do.”
“Ouch,” I say.
“Mmm,” he agrees. After a minute, he adds, “More than anything, I wanted to recreate the magic of Christmas for my kids that I enjoyed. I’m not sure I ever managed. Bernice wanted every room in our house, including the kids’ rooms, to be magazine worthy. She loved having photoshoots and our house featured.”
“What’s your favorite childhood holiday memory?” I ask, hoping to distract him from the bitterness of his ex-wife.
As I watch, a smile curls his lips. “I was seven. I woke up before dawn on Christmas morning and snuck downstairs. Just as I stepped into the Christmas room—yes it was an entire room dedicated to everything for this morning specifically—the enormous grandfather clock was striking five. I had a sudden fear of the nutcracker coming to life—the Mouse King attacking me and the Sugar Plum Fairy having to come to my rescue. But what I saw instead was pure magic.”
“I suppose mouse kings and sugar plum fairies weren’t everyday occurrences.”
Edries meets my eyes as he laughs. “This wasChristmas magic.The tree was easily ten feet tall, lit with hundreds of white lights and wrapped in ribbons. The train under the tree continued its merry course without pause. Around the room, a continuous shelf held a village that literally wrapped the entire perimeter. It was lit up. Little street lights winked at me. I could even see lights from inside the homes. And all around the room were the spoils of Santa being there. Elaborate present mountains and paths through the room so we didn’t trip. Stuffed stockings hanging over the fireplace.”
He pauses for a minute, concentrating on lining little candy canes on the path to the gingerbread house, but I think he’s still lost in his memory.
“There was a single table that had nothing on it except evidence of Santa’s visit. A simple white plate with cookiecrumbs, and a carrot stub that had been nibbled. A glass with the last sip of milk. And a note that readDear Edries, Thank you for being such a good boy this year. I’m so proud of the man you’re going to become. Love, Santa.I kept that note right up until Bernice found it the first year we were married.”
I wince as the sadness creeps into his voice. Part of me wants to ask why he married her. Why did he stay married to her? She sounds like an awful person. But it’s not my business, so I don’t ask.
“What about you?” Edries asks and I look up to meet his eyes. “Favorite childhood holiday memory.”
“There’s not one, specifically, but it’s doing things like this with my cousins. Not just for Christmas but for every holiday—wrapping presents, decorating the yard for Halloween, making stained glass pictures out of tissue paper and construction paper for New Year’s. Decorating cookies for Valentine’s Day, dying food green for St. Patrick’s Day, dying Easter eggs. There are six of us that were born within a month of each other, and we did everything together for years. The first time we didn’t was when we were… fifteen, I think. Jordan canceled, telling us he had a date. If Jordan was too old to do this, then that meant Ben and Lauren were, too. So that Valentine’s Day, we didn’t get together. I think we all felt the absence because we eagerly made plans for St. Patrick’s day. But it was like… that was the first moment we truly realized we were growing up. Things started getting in our way—school projects, sports, clubs. Then college, girlfriends, boyfriends, careers, kids. We usually try to get together two or three times a year, but it’s harder and harder as we get older.”
Edries nods. “Sometimes, I wish I could go back to the simplicity and magic of childhood.”
I nod. I enjoy my life, and I love my career. But yes, there are days when I wish I could go back.
We spend the rest of the day lounging around and talking. Watching movies. Innocently brushing against each other when it’s entirely unnecessary. We cook together and clean up together. After dinner, we find ourselves on the couch watching a movie. But we’re too busy making plans for tomorrow—Christmas Eve—and then Christmas day following.
Since we’re not entirely sure how much of his order was stocked and how much of mine was, we decided that tomorrow we’re going to splurge and munch on throughout the day. Keep adding appetizers to the table every hour or so and pick as we go. We’ll open a few more activities from my pile to entertain us and stay up late on the couch to watch for Santa.
