It’s not my art this year but it will be someday—maybe next year. I’ve got the world’s most incredible woman accompanying me and a warm blanket onherbed waiting for me that I’ve claimed as my own. Plus, a cat I’ve grown quite fond of, despite his yelling tendencies. Life is good. There’s only one thing I want—Ev home with me for the holidays.
Evan takes the first shower as I make us some popcorn for tonight’s finale episode of—you’llneverguess—The Bachelorette.She was willing to miss watching it live but not without insisting we watch it the moment we got home, no matter what time.
I have a shower once she’s done. After scrubbing all of the make-up and Toronto grime off of me, I curl in bed next to her. We’re both fitted with matching towels in our hair and accompanying fluffy robes. I’m sure we look like some sort of adorable, inclusiveIkeaadvertisement.
We fast forward through the first few commercials before I introduce the idea of kissing during them instead. Right when I think I’ve convinced her to keep kissing and stop watching entirely, then the host croons that it’s time for the men to pick out rings. I might be more upset if not for the fact that watching Evan enjoy anything this much is just as fun for me.
It’s the way her face lights up. The little stims she does with the tapping of her fingers against mine or the wiggling of her toes under our blanket. She’s so happy. I’d doanythingto keep it that way.
The next commercial break comes, and Evan turns to me smiling, readying to be inundated by kisses. Instead, I brush my thumb over her soft upper lip and gather my courage. “What are you and Bagel doing for Christmas break?” I ask.
Evan smirks under my thumb, then attempts to make her face stern. “Bagel doesn’t celebrate Christmas.”
“My apologies,” I correct, smiling fiercely. “What are you and Bagel doing for theholidays?”
“This.” Evan shrugs. “But, without you, I guess.” She pouts, reaching for my hand on top of the covers.
“Would you maybe want to come back home with me? Stay with my parents?” I ask, as gentle as I can. And I know it’s a serious proposition because Evan hits pause on the remote.
She looks down between us, a heavy expression overtaking her, pulling down on her features. “Teens… I don’t know,” she answers softly.
“I know it might feel scary but youdeserveto go back home. No one should be shut out of the community they grew up in. And I want you there.”
“I wouldn’t want to see them,” she says adamantly, her face immediately fearful.
I nod vigorously, protectiveness propelling me. “Then we absolutely won't.”
“Do Daryl and Maggie know yet?” She looks up hesitantly.
“About us?” I clarify, and she nods. “Not yet, no. But I’d really love to tell them. We could tell them together?”
Evan goes as white as snow. “No. I wouldn’t want to do that.”
“Okay, yeah, okay, of course,” I say, jumbled as one, long word. “Sorry,” I add for good measure. “I’ll tell them.”
“Just… they might not respond like you think they will.”
I sigh, unsure of what to say. I don’t want to invalidate her fears, but I do want to reassure her. “Right. I can talk to them first.”
“Okay.” Evan nods then scratches her chin. “Can I think about it?”
“Sure,” I say, suddenly feeling shy. “Of course.”
She notices. “It’s not that I don’t want to spend Christmas with you. I do.”
I force a smile. “I know.”
“It’s a lot for me to consider going back there. It’s been easier to tell myself I never would.”
“I’ll understand if you can’t.” I squeeze her hand tightly. “We can always ask my parents to come here next year.”
Evan’s subtle, warm smile appears like a sunrise coming up over a hill. “Next year,huh?”
I reach over her lap to hit play on the remote. “You heard me,” I say, snuggling into her side.
“Next year…” she sighs out contentedly as if she can’t quite believe it.
“Hush, he’s proposing!”
