Page 63 of Night So Silent
With a nod, he disappears down the hallway and into the bedroom to get dressed before embarking on a search for the perfect Christmas tree.
Was it all a dream? Did I imagine a new life materialize before my eyes in the past 15 minutes?
Apparently, not, since I don’t wake up with a start when my phone begins ringing again. It’s Brett, and it doesn’t feel like a coincidence that she called at this exact moment, so I don’t waste any time in answering.
“Brett, hey...Yes, I’m alright…I know, absolutely crazy. I’ll tell you all about it. Listen, I was just about to call my mom because I, um, I’m not going home today. I’m staying…How long?”
My eyes wander down the hallway, to Sergei in the bedroom, pulling a shirt over his head. He flips his hair free of the collar, letting it fall over his shoulders. Because he’s staying home today. He’s staying home withmetoday. A burst of warmth permeates my chest and radiates to the rest of my body, and all I can think about is how it finally feels like I’m where I’m supposed to be.
“I’m staying a long time…”
In the mountains, wrapped in the silence with him.
“Forever.”
EPILOGUE
11 Months Later
Sergei
“You can’t show up to your own wedding shower looking like Umbrella Security Service about to go into the Hive!”
I always remove my weapon when I leave work, so I do not agree with this assessment. All I know is that Dallas is adamant that I not be wearing the same clothes I leave in. But it doesn’t make sense; she and Brett planned this party at Volk and many of the guests will be the same people who work in the building. But even so, I assured her I would be changed by the time I return for the party. Contrary to what Dallas would say, I do actually own a few pieces of formal attire.
By the time I finally walk out the door, the event company hired by Dallas is pulling into the parking lot, followed by four white vans, no doubt filled to the brim with décor, food, and supplies. Being told that my only responsibility is to show up in acceptable attire, I head across the parking lot to meet Lutz and Barrera at their vehicles.
“Two hours,” Lutz announces. “Just enough time for one last board down the mountain.”
I pause at the back of my Tundra. “Why last?”
He pushes off his Bronco with a shrug. “I mean, at least until January, with your packed schedule this month.”
“Nah.” Barrera squints at me. “He’s got a few more left—like the Volk Christmas party, the bachelor party, the rehearsal, before the wedding, after the wedding…”
Both of them are well aware that I think the frequency of parties during the month of December is excessive. And my upcoming nuptials only highlights that fact.
“If I am even allowed,” I grumble. “Your wife says otherwise.” I jerk open the Tundra door and toss my backpack into the passenger seat. “Am I following you to your house?”
“No,” Barrera replies. “My house is full of candy, monogrammed cups, photo frames, and more of those mini Squish-fuckers in custom printed boxes stacked all over the place. There is a gift box foreveryoneandeverything.”
This fact does not shock me. Dallas is the one who planned and coordinated nearly every wedding event prior to this one—mostly for the women. It’s also clear that the bride attends far more events than the groom. Not that I’m complaining. Everything Barrera just listed sounds like torture, except for the wedding itself.
But the wedding is just a formality, a celebratory announcement. I’ve already committed myself and the rest of my life to Barrett many times over.
“We’re going to your house,” Lutz informs me. “Barrett’s at my house with Brett and they’ll come here together after my dad and Mary arrive to stay with Ev and Jens. They’re already getting hyped for baby number three.”
Fortunately, the sky is clear this afternoon and there’s no sign of a storm on the horizon like last year around this time. But that’s not the only thing that has changed since then. Stepping through the front door, my house smells of vanilla and nutmeg and looks like a Christmas market set up shop in my living room.
Normally, it would be too much for my senses, but I don’t mind. After finally meeting Barrett last year, I decided to give holidays another chance. Now, there is garland and candles and lanterns and a ceramic snow-covered town with little houses and shops with tiny LED lights in the windows. Not to mention the tree. There is a nine-foot pine in my living room adorned with ornaments and warm white twinkle lights.
And I am on the top.
I don’t know when she took the picture, but somehow a photo of me and my back tattoo ended up in a little silver frame propped up by the top branches.
“Why shouldn’t it be there?”Barrett asked incredulously.“It’s customary for an angel to go on top of a Christmas tree. But this is also a New Year tree, and you literally have an angel on your back, so what’s the problem?”
I did not have an argument prepared, much less a good one.
