“Look!” I exclaim, putting a hand to Dane’s thigh and pointing with the other. “They put our snow globe in the old tree lot!”
There are no other snow globes on the street.
Lorelei called laughing so hard she was crying not long after Dane and I arrived back in New York for our first trial month there, reporting that traffic had completely shut down in downtown Tinsel while the Jingle Bell Fest Committee gathered to try to figure out how to fit twenty snow globes that were wider than the sidewalks onto the sidewalks when someone objected to putting them in Reindeer Square instead.
Wait.
Not theentireJingle Bell Fest Committee.
My grandmother was absent from discussions.
She’s been asked to step down and put her health first.
Which was a kind way of the town sayingyour generation is done here.
Dane and Lorelei’s grandparents have been relieved of their roles in some of the smaller holiday committees too.
And speaking of Lorelei—“Park!Park!” I squeal at Dane.
He smiles that patient smile of his while he takes his time finding a safe spot to pull over on the side of the road.
“I’m going to go hug your sister so that she’s all yours by the time you get there, deal?” I say.
“It’ll cost you a kiss.”
I peck his cheek, knowing that’s not what he wants, and laugh when he hooks his hand behind my neck to pull me in for something deeper.
I love this man.
I don’t care if we’re in San Francisco or New York or Tinsel or anywhere else in the world.
I love him.
His quiet smiles. His warm eyes. His gentle patience.
The way he asks, “Do you want company, or do you want to go alone?” when I tell him I feel a desperate need to go to a museum or show or that I’m craving Greek but want to try a place I’ve never been.
The way he gets along with Yazmin.
The way he not only came to every night of my play last week, but also insisted on making half of his office in New York come, too, so that we sold out nearly every night.
The way he calls my mom.
He callsmy mom.
It started by accident, but he does. He calls and checks on her roughly every other week.
Some days I still wonder what he sees in me.
Other days, I make sure to spend as much time naked as possible so that he remembers what he sees in me.
“Take Chili?” he says as he releases me.
“Of course.”
Maybe that’s what he sees in me.
That his dog and I are besties. Mr. Lazybones accompanies me to work nearly every day when I’m working close to our neighborhood, and he even keeps up.
