Page 42 of Ghost of Ex-mas Past
The back door opens and Mom flounces in. The four of us break apart like billiard balls. “Helloooo!” She raises an empty glass. “Out of wine. I think I’ll just grab a whole bottle. Charlie, the firepit was a wonderful idea.” Mom brushes past me, smelling of smoke with a hint of tannins, and opens the fridge. “How’s it going in here?”
“Fine,” the four of us say in unison.
The fridge door falls closed and Mom peers at the pan. The tenderloin stands alone, the rest of the meal in various stages of preparedness. “What time do you think we’ll eat?”
Jasper glances at the fridge and does math. “A little late. Sorry. I have untrained sous chefs, you know.”
“You’re the sous chef,” Naomi grumbles.
Mom kisses her cheek. “Better grab some snacks, then.” She reopens the fridge and roots around, bottle of wine under her arm, until she finds the hummus. She swipes a box of crackers off the counter on her way out. “Shout when it’s ready!”
The three of us vote Jasper off the island and banish him back to the stool. We focus on getting the job done, and soon the tenderloin and accouterments are in the oven. Then we turn to the stove to make six side dishes.
God it takes a lot of food to feed eleven people.
Somehow, between stirring pots and washing dishes, Bea and I have a few minutes alone. And I’m not risking tonight.
I sidle up behind Bea at the stove and kiss the back of her neck. Her inhale is sharp and surprised.
“Come to bed with me tonight.”
She pauses, the spoon she was stirring with still halfway in the simmering water. “Charlie...”
She doesn’t finish the thought, but her tone makes me think it wasn’t going to beyes, Charlie, I’ll come to your bed and we can give each other orgasms all night long.
Instead I kiss lower, trailing my lips down to her shoulder and nipping gently. She leans against me and I grip her hips with my hands.
“Let me make you feel good,” I whisper. “Let me show you how amazing we are together.”
She laughs, but it’s almost more of an exhale than humor. “Irememberhow good we were together.”
I press my nose into the soft space under her ear. “No. You remember how good wewere. Let me show you how good weare.”
Right now, I don’t have enough money or time. But it’s so close I can taste it, and I will do whatever I can if Bea would give me another chance. It’s a miracle that I’m standing in this kitchen with her and she’s thinking about it.
Footsteps approach, and Bea glances at me over her shoulder as I step away. “Okay,” she says, just as Jasper comes around the corner.
After dinner,we pick another movie—How the Grinch Stole Christmas—and resume our places in the basement. Just as Jim Carrey accepts his position as Holiday Cheermeister, Arlo calls.
Perfect timing. I excuse myself and retreat upstairs.
I spend fifteen minutes on the phone, catching up with him and dillydallying until, maybe, no one will notice I don’t come back.
The movie’s still playing when I hang up with him, but I don’t go back downstairs. I climb up to my room instead, and when I open the door, Bea is lying on my bed.
My heart blooms.
The lamp on the bedside is on and she’s still dressed.
I smile at her, close the door behind me, and crawl up her body. Bea smiles back, those two dimples deepening. I put my hands on either side of her face, stroke her cheeks with my thumbs.
“Hi,” she whispers.
“Hey,” I say. “Done grinching around downstairs?”
She laughs and I kiss her. It’s slow and sweet, and I lay my body over hers.
I move my lips down her face, kissing a dimple before nipping down her neck. Bea runs her hands through my hair, pressing my face further into her skin.
