Page 135 of Callan

“Don’t turn them on,” I say as he pivots to the wall to touch the light switch. “There’s enough light,” I go on, pointing to the unlit candles on the table and the fireplace mantel.

“Works for me,” he says, lighting some of those candles.

“Who cooked for us?” I ask, noticing the plates of food kept warm by the glass cloches.

“My staff cooked dinner forme. They always do in on Christmas Eve.”

Resting my hands on the sculpted back of a chair, I wait to meet his eyes.

He finishes lighting the candles and looks at me.

“They cooked for you, and you went out? I don’t understand,” I say.

He turns to me, candlelight glinting in his eyes.

“It’s a tradition in this house,” he says. “We used to sit around this table. My family…” he murmurs and stops, undecided whether to go on.“Things are a bit different these days as I am mostly by myself,” he finally adds.

“So what happens when you’re not bringing someone home?” I ask.

He seems wrapped in a thin veil of melancholy.

“I don’t bring people home. You’ve been an exception,” he says without emotion in his voice. “Normally, I’d get back in the morning, have something to eat, and go to bed.”

“You say normally… What else might happen on a night like this?”

I can’tnotlook around and take in the beauty of this room.

It’s right out of a fairy tale.

A Christmas tree guards the window.

Someone took their time to hang the red, silver, and green ornaments and stretch the garlands over the branches before finishing their work with a tree topper.

I shift my eyes and find him contemplating my face.

“Sometimes I don’t come home. Or I come here a day or two later…” he says, gauging my reaction.

My disappointment is stark, stemming from some old resentment harbored in my soul. This is not about where he’s supposed to spend Christmas Eve.

He is free to do whatever he sees fit.

He is not accountable to anyone.

But seeing all this and him running away from it, when this is everything I’ve ever wanted, hurts my soul.

Life is so unfair sometimes.

But he must have his reasons for doing that, so I won’t question it. In a way, I’m happy that we’re here.

He’s made an exception and considered it worthwhile to spend the nighthere with me.

I lower my gaze, feeling the edge of emotions across my chest.

He says nothing in return, so I lift my gaze to him, muster a smile, and speak again.

“Since you have made an exception for me tonight, let’s make it an unforgettable experience.”

He searches my eyes a little longer, a kernel of emotion gleaming in his stare before he invites me to take a seat.

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