Chapter Fifteen

Kent

Christmas Eve morning, there was still a lot to do. Technically, I didn’t have to do any of it, but I wanted to. We were, “splitting custody” for Christmas. Christmas Eve was going to be at my house in my Christmas wonderland environment as opposed to Daddy’s traditionally decorated one. Yes, with a little help we’d gotten a minimalist Christmas tree/candles on the mantel setup in place when he decided he needed at least that much so the house didn’t feel neglected and sad. Then we would go next door for a sleepover and have Christmas Day there for my “little” Christmas.

I started the day with errand running at the bakery during their small window of being open for pickups. I got a nice crusty loaf of bread to go with dinner and a Christmas cake that, according to the counter person, “No holiday is complete without.” I wasn’t even sure what kind it was. They had a list of ingredients in case you needed to check for allergies, but I didn’t bother reading it. We didn’t have any allergies, and it would only keep me guessing what could possibly be in that dessert.

I learned a long time ago from my grandmother that you couldn’t tell just by looking at or tasting a cake what was in it. One of her favorites to bake was a cake made with canned tomato soup. If I had known that going in, I probably never would’ve tasted it. It remained my favorite for her entire life. I tried to make it a few times, but I should not bake cakes. It’s on a short list of things beyond my skill set, alongside internet shrimp recipes. And yes, it still bugged me that I made such a catastrophe of the meal.

After I went to the bakery, I grabbed some fresh cream for our cocoa from the grocer and headed back home.

I opened the door, inhaling the savory, delicious scent of the pot roast I had put in the slow cooker when I first woke up filling the air. Dinner was going to be delicious. I used my grandma’s recipe. I would add some cranberries to it, soon, but for now it was at the let it do its thing stage.

After I put the cake in the fridge as instructed, the bread on the counter, I went to my room to wrap all the presents. I started with Pearly. It was safe to say that they were a spoiled doggo. I got them some toys, a bunch of different fancy treats and chewies, and a new sweater for when it got too snowy out. Unfortunately, the sweater didn’t arrive on time, so she was going to have to wear her old one for a bit. But everything else was there, wrapped up and ready to go.

Then came Daddy’s gifts. He didn’t “need anything.” I asked many times, but that was his frustrating response to each and every query. But I still wanted to spoil him.

I made him an ornament with our picture in it. It was probably on the little side as far as presents went, but I didn’t care—I wanted to have it up for Christmas Day. There were also some new bands for his smartwatch so that he didn’t have to ask , Does this go with my shirt/sweater/pants? Which they always did because it was a watch, but still… I threw in a couple of ties for work, tickets to a show he’d mentioned wanting to see, and some random odds and ends I knew would make him smile. Overall, I felt like I did a good job. There was one more present, but that would have to wait until tomorrow because it was for sure a little present.

I shoved the gifts into their oversized stockings and hung them on the hooks he helped me put on the mantel. If the dog wasn’t coming over, I probably would’ve slid them under the tree, but they would soon realize there were treats in there. As well-behaved as they were, no dog could be expected to resist that. That was like expecting a little to never break a rule. It may happen, but not always for the best reasons. I learned that the hard way— or maybe the best way because, at the end of the day, I had Barrett now and there wasn’t anything better than that.

After showering and changing, I ran next door. Daddy wasn’t slated to come over until later in the afternoon, but I didn’t want to wait. It was Christmas Eve, and I wanted to spend every second I could of it with him.

He answered the door in his towel, making me glad I knocked instead of just going inside. Hearing the door open and not knowing someone was coming when you were naked was not ideal.

“Oh, look at you,” I said, kissing him. “All wet and sexy like you knew I was coming. Is this my present?”

“It can be.” He tapped my nose. “I’m not saying no. But I was going to come get you after I got dressed because I have a surprise for you.”

“A surprise?”

“Yes. Now, come in and shut the door. It’s cold. Let me get dressed, and then I’ll take you.”

It wasn’t a here surprise. He was taking me somewhere. I barely contained my squee.

“Take me? A surprise?” I went back and forth in my head about what it could be but came up with nothing. “What is it, Daddy? What’s my surprise.”

He dangled his keys. “We’re going to the North Pole.”

“Okay, Daddy, you don’t have to tell me.”

“No, really. We’re going to the North Pole.”

A few minutes later, we said goodbye to Pearly, telling them we’d be back soon, and were on our way. Sure enough, he drove me to a North Pole— not the North Pole, obviously, but a pop-up Santa’s Village.

“We need a Christmas picture!”I squealed.

Barrett grabbed my hand and gave it a squeeze.

“And they have the world’s best hot chocolate bar!” It was safe to say I was excited. “Wait, who determined the ‘world’s best’ part?”

“Marketing.” He ho-ho-hoed. “Let’s meet Santa.

We stood in line, and got our picture taken with Santa, who was more than happy to see us despite our ages and also got some add-on photos taken with the elves. And then, because capitalism, we spent a couple of hundred dollars on far too many ornaments and things with our faces on them. It was fabulous.

The cocoa, however, was not the world’s best—not the city’s best, probably not even Swiss Miss’s best. But it was fun to be there among the decorations. And best of all, unlike the sleigh ride we’d gone earlier that week, which ended up being pulled by a tractor named Dasher much to my disappointment, there were real reindeer there. You only had to look into their eyes to see why people thought they were magical.

“What time’s dinner?” Barrett asked.

“Oh, it’s sliding. It can be anywhere from now until whenever. It’s pot roast—it can just keep cooking.”

“So I can have you for longer.”

“Oh, sweet, sweet Daddy. You have me for always.”

Our next stop was a place that actually did have decent cocoa. I was surprised they were open but wasn’t going to question it. Barrett, of course, tipped them generously. I don’t even know how much he left, but I knew he’d made someone else’s Christmas, too.

We spent the night eating the delicious roast, watching Rudolf for the fifteen millionth time, and opening presents. Pearly loved each and every one of their gifts. Daddy did, too.

As the clock struck midnight, we walked next door to begin Christmas morning at his house. The idea was to go to bed early so we could enjoy the entire day in our dynamic—a full-on little Christmas.

And while we did go to bed…we didn’t go right to sleep. Instead, we enjoyed each other—our love, our relationship, and our first Christmas together.