Page 1 of Nutcracker with Benefits
1
Clara
It was a goddamn Christmas miracle. I am a goddamn Christmas miracle.
Three flights, two delays, forty-eight hours of travel time, one spilled coffee, a sprint across CDG airport, and I made it to New York City.
The doorman sends me up in the elevator to Uncle D’s penthouse apartment. What is normally a brightly lit space is nearly pitch black—it’s four am on Christmas morning, and Uncle D’s floor-to-ceiling windows are opaque, blocking the ever-present lights of the big city. The Christmas tree isn’t even lit up, although I can see the dark shape of it sulking in the corner.
I glide in, the wheels of my suitcase smoothly following behind me. Dad and Uncle D are surely asleep, and I don’t want to wake them. Uncle D is fastidious about his sleep, claiming that eight hours a night is going to help him work his magic. What magic that is, since he’s practically retired now, I don’t know.
But there is one person sleeping here that I don’t mind waking. I leave my luggage by the door, gently setting down my backpack next to it and slipping my shoes off. I walk in the opposite direction from Dad and Uncle D’s room towards the west wing of the penthouse. This side is more familiar to me; one of these bedrooms will be mine for a few days, my home in New York while I celebrate the holidays with my family. But the other bedroom is even more familiar—Nash’s room.
I gently turn the knob on the door, the soft glow from the flashlight on my phone illuminating a dark shape on the bed. I leave it on just long enough to make out the edge, Nash’s dark head of hair peeking out from under the white comforter. Nash’s bedding must be new because the last time I was here, it was navy.
The door closes with a soft click. I tiptoe over the mattress, resting a knee on the bed, and then carefully crawling up.
“Hey, baby,” I say gently. The body shifts next to me. Nash has always been a light sleeper, even with the blackout windows and high-end bed that he keeps now.
I lean down closer. “I finally made it. Want to welcome Christmas in the naughty way?”
Nash raises up, and I can barely see anything, but I bet he’s got the adorable, grumpy, and sleepy face that he gets when he’s been woken up. I know it pretty well after nine years of booty calls, and I know that Nash, when he fully wakes up, will be thrilled to see me, and even more thrilled with the wake-up call.
My voice turns playful, and I give the sheets a little tug. “Come on, Nash, wakey, wakey. We have a few hours before my dads wake up.”
The grip on the sheets turns firm, and a voice I definitely did not expect answers me.
“Clara?” the man in bed says to me.
“Dad?”
2
Nash
I whistle “Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairies” as Frank opens the door to the building for me. I’m about to spend Christmas with some of my favorite people in the world; my mentor and boss, Uncle D, his husband Craig, and their daughter Clara. Hell, I’m even happy to see Clara’s brother Fritz and his family, even though Fritz and I don’t get along well.
“Merry Christmas, Frank,” I say.
He tips his cap at me, his old-school white gloves firmly gripping the shiny bill. “Merry Christmas, Nash. Clara got in early and I expect Fritz and company are minutes behind you.”
“I suspect so, too,” I say, taking an envelope out of my pocket. I’m sure Uncle D tips the building staff well during the holidays, but I’ve known Frank for years, known his wife and kids, too. It would be weird not to give him a bonus, even if I don’t live here anymore. “Tell Alison and the kids Merry Christmas,” I say.
“Thank you, sir,” he says, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.
The elevator is quick to come, and I press the button for Uncle D’s penthouse as the doors close.
I inspect my reflection in the stainless steel as the elevator shoots up. Clara and I used to have fun competing for the most outlandish pajamas to wear on Christmas day, and this year I’ve gone a little over the top. I found a set that illustrates Grandma Got Run Over by a Reindeer, with an elderly woman holding a mug of beer and Santa cracking his whip over the team of reindeer. The background is bright blue, making the pajamas garish and hard to miss.
Now that Fritz’s kids are old enough to pick out their own pajamas, the tradition has grown to include the whole family. Though, I don’t think Fritz’s wife, Whitney, will be pleased with me for having to explain the song to her kids.
I’ve been celebrating Christmas with my boss’s family for nine years. It’s hard to think of Rolf, the man I, and his family, affectionately call Uncle D, as my boss, especially now that he’s been easing into retirement. But he is still my boss.
And Clara, his stepdaughter, is the woman I’ve loved for the past few years. It’s been hard, though: in college, Clara started a food and travel blog, and after graduation, armed with a journalism degree, Clara went full time, traveling the world and leaving us—especially me—behind.
I’m not bitter about it. Clara’s fulfilling a dream her mother never got to pursue. But God, I miss her every day, and I’m excited to see her today. Excited and nervous because I have plans for us to do something completely different.
The elevator opens right into the penthouse, and I step in, taking my boots off at the rack in the foyer. “Hello?” I call. The space is quiet, the ding of the elevator having announced my arrival.
