I’d been collecting Secret Santa gifts for him as well, since I learned who he was, and was laying out the strategy for delivering them. Hudson had been willing to share his likes with me, and I had a box in my trunk filled with small, adorable things. Not necessarily “little” but fun or funny. The scarf would be the one thing I hoped he’d appreciate. I had been crocheting, pulling out my mistakes, crocheting again, and the only limit on the length would be how far I could get before Christmas Eve. I’d bought twice the amount Bridger recommended with the idea Imight mess something up, so there would be no running out of yarn.
“I’m finally here!” Gunnar stood in front of me, grinning. “I almost missed you over here by the wall like that.”
“Oh, sorry. I’ve been watching the elevator, but I guess I got lost in thought. You look very nice.” He had changed from his suit to body-hugging jeans and a thin, tight cashmere sweater in hunter green.
“Thanks, so do you. This is my new Christmas sweater. I was starting to think I wouldn’t have anywhere special to wear it.” He gave a little turn. “It’s very soft.” Extending his arm toward me, he said, “Feel.”
I reached out and skated my fingers down his forearm. “Very nice. I’m afraid mine is just cotton.”
“But it’s a good color on you and the weave is nice.”
“Thank you! I didn’t get to change, so I’m glad you like it. Ready to go? Can I help you on with your jacket?”
“Thank you.” He handed it to me and turned so I could bring it up his arms. “It’s a vintage bomber from the 80s. I like thrifting, do you?”
“I don’t know. But I’d be willing to try if you can find things like this. It is in really good shape for being forty years old.”
We headed out the door and turned right. The Christmas market lay a few blocks down in the small greenspace surrounded by old apartment buildings with storefronts on the first floor. Decorations were everywhere. Greenery and Christmas trees and jingle bells and bows. Stockings, candy canes, all sorts of colored lights. When we emerged into the open area, I sucked in a breath, expecting to react badly, but Gunnar slipped his hand into mine and waited, standing by my side. Not saying anything, and I let my breath out and relaxed. No, I was not the Christmas fan I had been back in the day, but the surroundings, the shoppers, and people lining up with theirkids to see Santa, the vendors with booths in the park, the team manning the huge smoker that looked like a huge pig looked okay to me.
“What would you like to do first?” I asked.
We decided to start on the outside and walk around, working our way to the center of the market. Everyone was so happy, the complete opposite of the people who had sat on my office sofa all day. In my line of work, it could be hard to remember that not everyone had dread of the holidays. After all, who scheduled a counseling session to say they were having a great time and wanted lots more of the same?
When Bron was with me, I’d done better about compartmentalizing. Sure, my clients had a lot of trauma to deal with, but I didn’t. So I could listen to them and help them work their way through things, but when I got home, it was all happiness and love.
Now? The sadness just followed me to my lonely home.
But for the first time in two years, I was successfully shaking off the day and turning my attention to my own experience instead of just feeling swamped by the sadness, anger, and other negative emotions. In a way, having been through something shattering, I felt like I could empathize better, but if I never stepped out of their pain, eventually I’d break. It was the kind of thing they warned us about in the master’s program in counseling.
“Oh, look at the bear!” Gunnar picked up the most adorable small teddy wearing lederhosen and a little cap. “Isn’t he adorable. Do you make these?” he asked the vendor, an older man with a gentle demeanor and a friendly smile.
“Yes. I took it up after I retired. I’m still an amateur, though.”
“You are not.” Gunnar chatted with him for a few minutes before putting the bear down. “Can you direct me to a restroom?”
The vendor gave him directions and I said I’d wait here for him. Of course, while he was gone, I bought the bear. He wouldn’t be a Secret Santa gift because of course, there would be no secret about it, so I gifted myself the pleasure of presenting it to him when came back.
“I wasn’t hinting,” he said, but his face showed how much he wanted it.
“Of course not, but I thought you should have a souvenir of our first date.”
He tucked the bear carefully in the inside pocket of his jacket and rose on tiptoe to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. I never will forget, but he’s perfect. I love him.”
And he hadn’t said there wouldn’t be a second date. In fact, when we got back to the parking garage and I walked him to his car, we made plans for cookie decorating. Date number two.
Chapter Ten
Gunnar
Even though we had started dating, I wasn’t ready to give up my role as Secret Santa. I wanted to keep it going, to keep him surprised, and it was getting difficult to figure out things to give him that I wouldn’t have learned he might be interested in because of a date or a phone call. I ended up sticking with items I found on online lists such as Christmas socks, a little blue Christmas tree for his desk, a blue apron. I kind of got stuck on the blue thing. It personalized the less personal items in my mind.
I kept waiting for him to bring them up, but so far, he hadn’t. Then again, I hadn’t mentioned to him that I’d started to get some Secret Santa gifts myself. I also hadn’t been feeling right about opening them and had been stashing them in my closet. I didn’t know why it felt like I was being disrespectful to him if I opened them. I didn’t feel that way about him opening gifts that I got him, but sometimes it was best to go with my feelings.
I wasn’t going to think about that now because today was our cookie-making-and-decorating day. I was so excited, I could burst. I had a collection of cookie cutters that had been my grandmother’s, a good number of them Christmas-themed, ready to go. I’d recently learned a trick via YouTube about rolling the dough on a silicone mat, pressing the cookies out, and pulling the excess dough away. I wasn’t exactly sure how it was going to work, but it didn’t matter because I was spending the day with Vaughn.
He’d told me that he hadn’t done it before, and it was kind of cool being the one to teach Daddy, not that he was my daddy, but I couldn’t keep my mind from going in that direction. I didn’t even feel bad about it because we both knew going into this thatage play was part of any relationship either of us would want. We just hadn’t officially said that he was mine, and that was okay. Rushing things never worked.
I went back and forth on how easy to make our cookie date. Should we do a few different kinds of cookies or just the sugar cookies? In the end, I decided to do the sugar cookies and, while they cooled and got ready to be decorated, bake some slice-and-bakes I’d prepare the day before. I used a recipe an old coworker had given me that included gelatin. They were absolutely delicious and made a ton, so the timing would work out correctly.
