Page 91 of Don't Remind Me
The apartment was stilldark despite the sun being up. I’d kept the living room curtains closed, using only the light above the stove to guide me as I flipped a pancake, a satisfyinghissgurgling up as the wet batter hit the hot pan.
There was a stillness to Christmas morning that I’d always loved, a quietness before the chaos of gift opening ensued, like a deep breath before a shout, when wonder and anticipation crackled through the air like magic. Even after I’d stopped going home for the holidays, I’d still felt it, faint as it had been. Never more than I did this morning.
I glanced at the Christmas tree in the corner of Jase’s apartment—ourapartment now. It glowed from the multicolored twinkle lights strung through its branches, illuminating the eclectic mix of ornaments on display. There were the crystal icicles Jillian gave us as part holiday, part housewarming gift when I moved in at the start of the month. The blown glass orbs Jase and I had picked out at a holiday craft market. Our DIY attempts at popcorn garland (his contribution) and paper snowflakes (mine).
My graduation tassel was there too, finally the ornament I’d intended it to be.
Robin had run with the idea, setting up a DIY ornament station at the office holiday party. An office I once again worked in four days a week—Fridays, we now had the option to work remotely.
I almost always spent it at Ardena, which had quickly become my favorite spot for brainstorming new HBC fundraisers for the coming year. Nothing on the same scale as the symposium, which Talia and I were already outlining the theme of for next year, but I’d thought up some smaller events I hoped would engage the community as strongly as the virtual panel had.
Not only had we reached our fundraising goal for the clinic—the building plans were officially underway—but our regular donations had seen an uptick as well. People were excited about the work we were doing. They just needed the chance to be a part of it.
HBC still got a steady stream of enraged messages with the occasional hate mail, but not nearly to the level it had been. And Geffery was still around just in case, making plans to be ready for worse when the clinic opened in the fall. I was happy to let him be the one to worry about it.
A groan came from the hallway.
“That smells so good,” Jase said as he shuffled into the kitchen, his voice still scratchy with sleep. He stepped behind me, hands landing on my hips, and dropped a kiss to my shoulder over his long-sleeved shirt I wore.
I leaned into his warmth as I scooped the cooked pancake off the griddle and transferred it to the serving plate beside the stove. “I was going to bring them to you in bed.”
“That my Christmas present?” he grumbled beside my ear in a low voice that sent a thrill up my body.
“Only part of it.” He loved when I cooked for him, and I loved making him feel loved.
Before I could add more batter to the pan, he switched off the burner and threaded his fingers through mine, wrapping both our arms around my waist. “Come lie with me first.”
He didn’t have to ask twice.
We snuggled on the couch under a blanket, lying so we could peer at the Christmas tree together, both of us cocooned in the magic of its light. The card Rachel had sent me this year was taped alongside the window between the few others we’d gotten from Colin, Sal, and Frank.
My head rested on Jase’s chest, and his hand slipped under my shirt, tracing small circles at the base of my spine above the waistband of my flannel pants. Baxter hopped up to join us, curling himself into the dip at our waists, and the whole cozy bundle was almost enough to lull me back to sleep.
The buzz of Jase’s phone broke through the stillness. He shifted beneath me to reach into his pocket.
“Brace yourself,” he murmured before answering, but his tone was light.
Alec’s face filled the screen, a cacophony of voices, Christmas music, and baby wails coming through the speaker. “Are you two still in bed? How is that even possible?” he asked over the noise.
I checked the time on Jase’s phone. A little after ten.
“First of all, we’re on the couch,” Jase replied. “And it’s called the beauty of not having kids.”
“Trust me, Oliver would rather still be asleep too,” Alec said. From the dark circles under his eyes, I guessed he felt the same. “It’s Mom who had other plans.”
“How many photo ops have you been subjected to so far?” Jase asked. “And at any point today, will you have to wear a Santa costume?”
“No, thank God. And not for lack of trying on her part. They were sold out of the one she liked online.”
Jase laughed, the crinkles beside his eyes deepening as his head fell back, bringing my own smile to my lips. This lightness between brothers had come more and more easily over the months, and it meant almost as much to me as it did to Jase.
“Did you get our gifts?” I asked Alec. We’d mostly sent toys for Oliver. As his godfather, Jase was determined to spoil him more than anyone, a steep feat considering he was going up against two sets of first-time grandparents.
We’d also thrown in a few small things for Alec and Stephanie—artisan chocolate from a local shop, some body oil I thought Stephanie might enjoy, and gingerbread cookies Jase and I had baked together. He’d done most of the hard work; I’d just cut out the shapes.
“That’s actually why I called. We thought we’d open them with you. Let you see Oliver in action.”
The video went shaky as Alec walked into another room, the background noise growing louder as he did. I recognized the living room of his parents’ house, the same one from the Christmas party where I’d first laid eyes on Jase all those years ago. I snuggled closer to him, tightening my arm across his stomach. He pressed a kiss to my forehead.
