Baby, it's cold outside! - 6. Chapter 6

"Can we open presents now?" Kara jumps up and down on the couch like a three-year-old.

Andreas grins. "She thinks she's getting presents. How funny."

"Hey! I can see there are some for me. Why would they lie by my place, if they weren't for me? And it's not my presents I'm curious about anyway." She looks at me pointedly. Huh?

“All right. One, two, three, UNWRAP!" I'm back in kindergarten or elementary school.

I grab a large box, which is surprisingly light. Everybody is looking at me.

"Don't you have some presents to unwrap too?" I ask them, a little bit unsettled by their looks.

"Oh yes, of course!" Andreas starts to unwrap his Lego box. "Oh shit! Are these all the Mandalorians? Oh, man!"

When I open my box, there are two more boxes inside, with a No. 1 and a No. 2 written on them. I take the box with the No. 1 and shake it carefully. Nothing. Hm. When I look up, everybody is watching me again. "What?"

"Nothing." They answer in unison.

I open the box and find an envelope. God, somebody likes suspense a little too much for my taste. I open the envelope and find a copy of a map. There is a route marked, with a roughly sketched plane flying from here to ….

"What's this?" I ask, holding up the sheet.

"That, my darling," answers Kara, "is the way to your happiness. We couldn’t stand the sadness in your eyes any longer. Those failed attempts to move on in the past six years. After you talked to Peter, you got no closure as some of us hoped," she briefly looks at Andreas, "but, if it’s even possible, you became sadder. Sooo— This is our Christmas gift to you: You’ll find a ticket in there, with a rental car waiting for you at the airport. Prof. Brunelli booked a room for you in a small, but comfy hotel near a certain person’s house, just in case this trip doesn’t work out as we hope it will, and you need a place to regroup or simply sleep.”

Andreas clears his throat. “This might be a little over the top or even intrusive, but sometimes, you need a hard nudge to get your cute behind in gear, my friend.”

“Hey!”

“We discussed it, but I think this is a good idea. Just look under the tree. You got them presents!”

“I won one.”

“You could’ve sold it.” Andreas leans back against the couch, one eyebrow lifted.

“I could send it anonymously.”

“And the scarves?” Kara picks up a cookie.

“I could send them too.”

“Anonymously?” Kara mocks me.

“It’s too late to send something by post anyway,” Andreas interjects.

“I could—”

Prof. Brunelli puts down his cup. “Tristan, if you don’t want to visit Peter and TT for Christmas, you don’t have to, naturally. It is just a strong push in what we believe is the right direction. If we miscalculated and overstepped boundaries, feel free to say so. We won’t hold it against you. On the contrary, we will apologize and get you something else.”

"But I don't know Peter's address."

"That is already taken care of; I charmed his secretary…his male secretary." Kara winks.

"But…."

"No buts, there’s a second box."

When I pick up the box with the No. 2 written on it, Andreas yells, “Stop!”

I pull back.

“You will open that when....” He waggles his eyebrows. “You know… when…” he actually blushes. “When you’re about to do the deed?”.

"Don't you think that’s a little err… presumptuous?"

"No." This unison thing again.

"And don't forget the cute Santa hat." The professor grins suggestively.

***

I'm standing on Peter's porch right now, hearing the doorbell ring somewhere in the back of the house. My hands are trembling, and on closer inspection, my knees are too.

"Coming!" Was that Julie's voice?

And right on cue, she's standing in front of me. “Aren't you that Santa guy from the mall?"

Before I can answer her question, Tristan comes running to the door. "Santa? You came!" He squeals.

Julie looks from me to Tristan and back. "What’s he talking about?"

“Um, can I maybe come in?” I ask and then add belatedly, “Is Peter home?"

"No, he isn't. He's out with Adrian.” She makes a pained face. “That's why I’m here. Duh?"

Adrian? It feels like someone slammed their fist in my stomach. Shit! Suddenly I think I better go, but Tristan doesn’t give me a chance to pull back.

"Come in, Santa. Where’s your hat?" He grabs my hand and drags me into the living room. There stands a beautifully lit Christmas tree, with lots of presents already underneath.

“Wow! It looks like S—I was already here.”

“Daddy says you sometimes bring some presents early so everyone gets their presents on time.”

”That’s right. Your dad is smart.”

"So, are you staying until Peter gets back?” Julie asks behind me.

"Um, I could, just for a while...." No! Definitely not!

"Oh cool! Can I go then? You'll watch Tristan for me?"

“I-I….”

I haven't finished the sentence, and she's already out the door. I can’t believe this girl. She’s letting a total stranger not only in the house but also watch her five-year-old charge? I have to talk with Peter about this. She’s the worst sitter I’ve ever seen. Not that I met many before.

"Do you want some cookies?" Tristan looks at me expectantly.

"Oh yes, that would be great."

When he vanishes to where I think the kitchen is, I quickly slip the presents under the tree. It's easy to spot where Peter's and Tristan's spots are. There is a third pile too, but I can't read the name on the presents, then Tristan comes back with a plate of cookies.

"Here, try these; they have chocolate chips and walnuts; I helped daddy make them."

"Hmm, they're good. No, delicious,” I praise around a mouthful of cookie. “So, your dad makes cookies now?"

"Yes, and he makes dinner. Lunch too. And pancakes."

"Wow.” I look around the room. “What do you want to do?"

"Could you read a Christmas story to me?" He looks at me with pleading blue eyes.

I never could resist those. "Sure. I love reading Christmas stories."

I settle myself on the floor in front of the couch, and Tristan immediately crawls into my lap, a heavy book already in his hands.

We sit there for like an hour or so, Tristan snuggled against my chest, almost asleep, and I can’t feel my left leg anymore, when I hear the front door open. Looking up, I see Peter and a small, gorgeous looking blond guy standing in the doorway. And suddenly there is an ice block in my stomach. This is wrong!

Peter looks at me with disbelieving eyes. "Tristan?"

"Um, hey, Peter." I look at the blond guy.

Peter hurries into the room, a bright smile on his face. "Tristan! What a surprise!” He turns to the guy. “Adrian, this is Tristan. Tristan…Adrian." So, one question answered, two actually. Who said, you know what you want when you can't have it anymore? Fuck, this hurts.

"So, this is him, huh? The infamous, fabulous, unforgettable Tristan?"

"Adrian?" Peter asks in a low voice.

Then Adrian looks at me, crossing his arms. "And? Are you planning on staying?" asks Adrian.

I look at Peter. "I-um... If he wants me to… For a while?"

"Well, I had my chance.”

"Adrian…." Peter says regretfully.

"No, no, it's okay.” Adrian waves his hand dismissively. “I’d feel like I borrowed you. He always owned your heart, body, and soul." Then he narrows his eyes at me. "Don't you dare hurt him. He suffered too much already."

"No, no I deserved all of it," Peter declines.

"Well. Merry Christmas you two, and I mean it." Adrian turns away and leaves the house quickly.

Little Tristan looks questioningly at us with his big, blue eyes. "Daddy?"

"Um, what do you think TT? Should we invite Santa here to celebrate Christmas with us?"

"But doesn’t he have to bring the presents and all?"

"Oh, um… no. I'm already done. The rest will be delivered by my helpers, minus one." And I wink.

“Cool.” Peter rubs his hands together exaggeratedly. “How about watching a Christmas movie, then Dad cooks dinner, and then we read some more stories?"

“Yeah!” TT dances around the room.

While Peter skims over the movies, TT whispers in my ear, "Do you have Dad’s present?"

I look at Peter. "I hope so."

"Yes!” He pushes his little fist in the air. Too cute. “He talks to you. I saw it. The door to his bedroom was open,” he whispers conspiratorially, then pulls me down. “Prob-probelly his wish, because he couldn't tell you at the mall.” He frowns. “And because you're Santa, you could hear it, even if it was to your picture, right?" He looks hopefully.

Children's logic. "Yeah, something like that. I was a little deaf these past few years, but I finally got it, I think."

After three hours of games, movies, and TT circling the tree, trying to figure out what's in the colorful boxes and which was for whom, a very hyper little boy is finally tucked into bed when Peter skips down the stairs.

“Fast asleep.” Then he grins. “Finally, Daddy gets to kiss Santa Claus."

And bam, my heart jumps into my throat. The entire afternoon we played happy family with TT as a convenient buffer. It was nice, but not why I’m here. To see if there’s something left to rekindle. I’m scared to death. Words fail me. His expression changes, grows remote. I was silent too long. I croak. “No.” Shit! “I-I mean—Yes. I think that's allowed.” I clear my throat and make it perfectly clear. “To kiss Santa Claus. Me.”

A bright smile instantly appears on his face, and he steps forward to trail his finger down my face. It feels as if sparks spring between us where he touches me. We briefly inhale each other’s breath, then I feel his warm lips smile on mine. It feels good to hold him, familiar, right.

After a long moment, he steps closer and puts his head on my shoulder. Puffs of moist air hit my neck; his scent envelopes me, warms me. Something is still there. I love you. Too much. Too early. On occasion, I had let myself fantasize after we’d met at the hotel. What if? but that is a self-destructive thought. You can’t turn back time.

“Do you want anything to drink? Eggnog, or something stronger?”

“Can I have coffee?”

I sit down on the couch when he goes to the kitchen.

Peter gives me a mug with a dancing Santa IN A RED THONG. Suddenly the second gift box springs to my mind. Moron! I jolt back.

Sitting down beside me, he says, “I’m glad you’re here. I never thought I would see you again. At the hotel.”

Now it comes. I hope I can get through my much-rehearsed speech, and it makes sense. “I had a lot of time to think. I-I mean I had that before, time I mean.” Get it together. “For years I cursed you, condemned you for your supposed betrayal. I hated you. My friends hated you. I was so through with you.”

“I’m so sorry, I–”

I lift my hand to stop him. I can’t be interrupted. “I was through with you, still, I couldn’t move on. All I managed were brief flings. Then we met again. I learned I fucked us up almost as much as you. Or even more. I was embarrassed, and when I’m embarrassed, I get defensive. My friends cut to the chase. Six years ago, my wounded pride made me act without thinking. Running away doesn’t solve problems. Facing them does. When I realized this, it was too late. Again. But I couldn’t forget what you said. That you thought we could still have a chance.” I look at him “That’s what you meant?” Suddenly I feel like an idiot. What if I got it wrong?

He takes my hand. “That’s what I wished for when I saw your picture in the paper. Even more when we met again.”

And I blurt out, “I bought you a gift, f-for Christmas.”

“Oh?”

“Kara saw it. After a long conversation with lots of cookies, and later Jack, she showed me what I already knew. I wasn’t over you. That I wished we still had a chance.”

His grip on my hands gets firmer, then he kisses my knuckles. “You do?”

I nod. “I do. I mean, I don’t know how we can do it, with your practice here and my job there.”

“We will figure it out. How long can you stay?”

“A week. Maybe a little longer.”

When I can’t suppress my yawns anymore, he smiles that too-familiar smile. “Tired?”

“Yeah. Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

“Of course.”

He looks at me. “We do have a perfectly nice guest room. Or you could sleep in my bed, with me.”

I want that. But it’s too early.

When he sees my expression, he says quietly, “Sleep. Nothing else.”

Later, I grab my duffle bag and close the bathroom door behind me and open the box labeled No. 2. Some Christmas scented body wash, white boxer shorts with a dancing Santa on the front, wearing only his…friggin' Santa hat. What’s with all the dancing Santas wearing only their hat? Along with it, I find some condoms looking like little Santa hats. A laugh bursts out before I can stop it. What the fuck, Andreas? And candy cane lube? I’ll have to test that. Minty candy cane. I don’t want to know where they got all this stuff.

After the shower, I smell like an overgrown Christmas cookie. I slip on the Santa boxers. Looking down at myself, I promptly blush and quickly pull on my red checkered pajama bottoms and a white t-shirt. No socks; Peter has under-floor heating, nice. The rest stays in the box. We’re not there yet.

When I open the door, I find Peter sitting on the bed waiting for me. I go over to him, and he pulls me near him until he's burying his face in my stomach.

"Hm, you smell good. I always imagined Santa would smell like cookies."

"Daddy, wake up! The milk is gone! The cookies too! It's Christmas Day!"A very energetic TT jumps into our— the bed. Finally seeing me in his dad's bed, he asks, "Why is Santa sleeping in your bed, Daddy?"

Peter looks at me, lost for words, so I answer, "I was soo tired after delivering all those presents, I fell asleep and your dad said I could sleep in his bed.”

TT looks first at me, then back at Peter. "Daddy’s present?”

“Not yet.”

His lip quivers. “You promised!”

“He’ll get it.” I look at Peter. “Soon.”

"But you have to go back to your home at the North Pole eventually."

"Yes, but I will stay a little at your house, but you can't tell anybody, okay?"

"I won't. Can I get my presents now?"

"Of course, go ahead already; we'll follow in a minute." And out the door, he is.

Peter looks at me. "Care to explain that to me?"

"Tristan's only Christmas wish was that Santa grants his dad the wish he had for years. He saw you looking at a picture in the drawer of your nightstand, saying 'I only wish….'

"Oh fuck…."

I kiss him deeply. "Merry Christmas, love."

Thank you for reading Baby, it's cold outside!
I appreciate all your comments and reactions! It totally made my last  weeks.  
As always:  @Valkyrie for her terrific work.

Happy Holidays!