“I hate Christmas.”
“Vaughn, what the fuck!” she laughs.
“My cousins used Gremlins and Home Alone to play fucked-up mind games with me when I was a kid and I was convinced that some horrible shit was always going to happen on Christmas.”
“I forgot about Gremlins. Thatistechnically a Christmas movie.”
“With a whole story about a dad getting stuck in a chimney and dying ’cause he thought he could play Santa Claus. People tried so hard to convince me it was safe, but it just made me hate the whole concept of the season.”
“Aww, poor Baby Jesus. So, do you just not celebrate?”
“No, I celebrate. Shaw loves Christmas. It’s the only time of year he’s outwardly pleasant. I just look like this the whole time.” I give her my best gritted teeth grin, smiling at her for real when she fails to cover a loud snort.
“You’re saying I need to stick around at least til Christmas so I can see that face again?”
“It could help take some of the pressure off me. Especially if you like Christmas music. You and Shaw could sing your hearts out while I hide in a corner somewhere.”
“Okay, fair. That’s a little, well, not odd. Plenty of people don’t like or celebrate Christmas for obvious reasons. I’ll just accept that you’re perfect and I’ll spend time alone wondering why we couldn’t have met under different circumstances.”
“Sounds like a bad plan, but I’ll accept it for now.”
“Thank you.” She steps away from me and goes over to her weekend bag. “Why don’t you head down while I get changed, ’cause I don’t think we’ll make it to the boat if I take off my clothes in front of you.”
“You’re right. I’d be all over that.”
She rolls her eyes before she shoos me away. I go down to my room, change into my swim trunks and grab the rest of my stuff, then head to the kitchen where Shaw is waiting with Roger.
“All good?” he asks as he looks up from his phone.
“All good. She’s getting changed. We managed not to touch each other’s genitals.”
“I didn’t mean to make you feel like that,” he says instead of cracking another joke.
I squat down and Roger comes right to me. I give his head and neck a rough scratch. “I know.”
“I just—”
“I know.”
“I mean, look at her.”
“I know,” I say, chuckling. “Makes me feel a little better when she has us both a little fucked up.”
“Do you want to get married?” he says suddenly.
“Do you?” I ask, shocked.
“You may not believe it, but Brook is teaching me some things. I know we talked about the idea of it before, but that was before...before Corrine.”
I look back at him, blinking. Shaw is who he is and I’ve always loved him for it. I know he’s being serious right now. I know that he’s trying. He just caught me way the fuck off guard. I stand and cross the kitchen to him. He watches me, carefully. He’s expended all of his emotional bandwidth for the day just by asking me that question, and he’s warning me with this hesitant expression, so I know not to push him for more. I take his cheeks in my hands and squeeze his face. He scowls at me, his lips puffed out but he doesn’t move.
It’s not a question of if I want to marry Shaw, but ifhewants to marry me. I know I’m a lot for him. Most people are. It’s why he likes to live alone in this giant house. I’m sure a therapist would have something to say about the way he keeps people at arm’s length. I know it has a lot to do with his parents and his fear of abandonment, and the way everything went down with Corrine didn’t help those issues one bit. Still, I know how he feels about me and I know what’s trying to say. He doesn’t want to lose me and if marriage is what I want, he’ll give it to me. That’s a bigger conversation for another day. And it still does change my desire to add more, permanent partners to our relationship in the future.
“I love you.” I tell him.
“I love you, too.” he mumbles back, his lips still squished together. I kiss him and step away, giving him the moment he needs to slide his hard shell back into place.
A few moments later, Brooklyn steps into the kitchen and makes a dramatic show of putting on her large-frame sunglasses. “Come, gentleman. Let’s go yachting.”
