Page 37 of Missile Tow
“But you don’t know me, Chip. I worry having me underfoot could change your mind about the invite.”
I brought his hand to my chest, pressing it hard against me. “Hear me out, Van,” I pleaded. He stared into my eyes. His were pooling, and mine weren’t far behind. “What if the universeisspeaking to you? What if you left Missile and never found out?”
“You believe my nonsense?” he asked. “You don’t think I’m weird?”
“Let’s just say I don’t wanna risk it. And frankly, I want company this Christmas. No! That’s a lie. Ineedcompany.”
“And you’re sure?” he asked. “I could leave if it gets weird. I promise.”
“I like weird. And I like you.”
“Then… I’d like that,” he agreed. “Can we celebrate our birthdays, too?”
I pulled him closer and wrapped him in a tight embrace. “We can do both,” I agreed, kissing both his cheeks before nuzzling his ear.
As we stood embracing, I wondered where we’d be on Christmas Day and on our birthdays. The joint celebrations were a long two weeks away. Surely the storm would’ve passed by then. Then what? What if he ended up going on to Denver and heaccepted a job there? I pushed the depressing thought away as quickly as it came.
“Let’s eat and then I’ll show you the art of cutting down a Christmas tree while saving the tree.”
“You can do that?”
“I can do that!”
Dogs are perceptive creatures. Pooch looked up, detecting a lightness in me he hadn’t sensed in many months, and came rushing to my feet. I knelt and mussed his fur. Having him with me the past year was lifesaving. He was all I’d had until now.
Until now.The thought filled me with hope. Maybe the universe had plans for me, too.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: Van
Saturday came and went. Half the morning was spent hunting for the perfect Christmas tree and hauling it back. Chip’s trick to preserve any tree we chose was to climb a tall one and cut only the top section off.
We spent the rest of the day decorating after unpacking his holiday items from the garage. I was a master at decorating for Christmas. However, I may have met my match with Chip. He was like me when it came to all things Christmas. Childlike and full of wonder.
After too manyoohsandahhsto count, we’d stood looking around the cabin, admiring our handiwork. “I love it, Van,” he’d stated. “You have an eye for this stuff.”
“You had enough stuff to stock a holiday store, mister.”
He gazed at me and smiled. “I like it when you refer to me as mister.”
“Really? Like, what about it do you like?”
“I’m not sure, but I feel it somewhere deep inside.”
“Like near your heart, or your cock?” I joked.
“Probably both,” he replied.
We’d made several sexual comments throughout the day, but the overall tone was warm. Chip was an unusually present, honest, and open man. He spoke about the type of relationship he wanted without ever bad-mouthing the one he’d been in.
I admired that about him and did the same. We didn’t really use the first names of our exes, but instead described them as our first loves. We shared nice memories and kind descriptions of our former partners.
The care with which we each relived that time in our lives was refreshing. No trash talking, no blaming, no horror stories about them. We shared mutually respectful information about our exes, while also disclosing how difficult being left had been for us.
He’d mentioned the name John once or twice, but most of the time he simply used the word ‘him’ as the descriptor. I stopped uttering the name Evan, choosing ‘ex-partner’ as my reference name instead.
I couldn’t remember a day when I’d had so much genuine fun, and that included days when I was coupled. I threw together a veggie soup that evening, and we shared two bottles of wine, choosing to shower together and share his bed.
We didn’t have sex. Instead, we kissed and held each other. As difficult as it was to ignore our erections, it seemed we both desired the closeness of our bodies over sexual need. The cuddling was sweet and tender as we shared more stories of growing up and our individual family histories. Besides sharing Christmas Day as our birthdays, we were both only children.
