Chapter Seventeen

Forrest

We had opted to do a little Christmas Eve and a big Christmas day at my place because of Nick. We didn't want him to spend it alone, and he wasn't a huge fan of cars.

I'd always loved the holidays, but this year was going to be so much better because I got to spend it with the man I loved. I already had his present under the tree and a lasagna ready to go in the oven. All we needed was for him to arrive.

Normally, I'd have taken a shower and been dressed already, but Daddy had promised me a bath, a story, and snuggles before Santa came. I couldn't think of a better present than that.

"What do you think, Nick? Do you think it's gonna be a good Christmas?"

He rubbed his little chin against my hand in response. He loved to pet himself on us, as opposed to us petting him. And he still sat on Cliff's feet a lot. It was weird, but since Cliff didn't mind, I didn't either.

Cliff arrived about a half hour earlier than I had expected, which was good because waiting for him was hard. I was so excited about the holidays and our time together I couldn't sit still. When I opened the door, he was wearing a red coat and hat that matched my Santa hat and had a huge sack slung over his shoulder. Sexiest Santa ever.

"Oh, Santa, you can't be here. I'm waiting for my daddy." I tsked.

"He told me I could come." He punctuated it with a ho-ho-ho.

I stepped out of the way, and Daddy came inside, set the bag by the tree, and crossed over to pull me into a hug, twirling me around. "Merry Christmas, my sweet boy."

"Merry Christmas, Daddy." I kissed him and grabbed his hat, pulled it on my head.

"You have your own hat." I did, but this one smelled like my daddy.

"Fine, Daddy." I put it back on him. "Is it tubby time?"

It was safe to say I wasn't pretending to be patient.

"It is. I'll go get it set up."

"And I'll put dinner in the oven." That was one of the great things about lasagna—it was easy to make ahead to throw in the oven when it was time. I popped it in, knowing we'd still have plenty of time to play before it was ready, but I set the timer to be safe.

When I got to the bathroom, the tub was already filling, steam floating up. It was going to be a very good bath.

"Let's get you undressed, and then I have something for you."

"A prezzie?"

"Maybe. You'll have to be a good boy and be patient."

Getting undressed when you're bouncing on your toes because you're excited about a surprise your Daddy brought you is not ideal. It was a lot more fumbling than it should have been, but he helped. Soon enough, he was helping me sink into the warm, soapy water, asking me to promise to be a good boy while he popped into the other room.

I promised I would try because that was the best I could do when I was this excited.

He came back less than a minute later with a plastic sleigh, little reindeer figurines, and a Santa.

"They all float," he assured me, and, when I put them in the water, they did.

I'd never seen tubby toys that were Christmas-themed, and they were the best things ever. I played with them while Daddy washed my back, my front, and all the other bits. Then the two of us played with them until the water started to get cold.

"It's time to get out, sweet boy, before you turn into a raisin."

"I won't." Although when I looked at my fingers, I saw that I already was.

He helped me up, dried me off, and when we went to the bedroom to get me dressed, I saw a present on the bed.

"Is that for me?"

"It's not for Nick."

I ran over and pulled the tissue paper out of the bag. Inside were red-and-white striped pajamas with a hood and pockets. It was wonderful. "When I put this on, I'm gonna look like a candy cane!"

"That's the point. And did you see what it says on it?"

I hadn't and when I turned it over so I could, I could barely contain my squee. " Daddy's Sweet Boy !"

"That's you. You're my sweet boy."

He helped me get dressed then walked me over to the mirror. Sure enough, I looked like a candy cane. It was so stinking adorable I couldn't even stand it.

"You're the best daddy."

"I don't know about that, but I try to be the best daddy for you."

And he was.

We ate the dinner I'd made earlier that day, and it was nice, just the two of us having a meal. It wasn't a little meal, not really, but it was perfect for the occasion.

After we cleaned up, the fun part of the night began. Daddy turned a crackling fireplace scene on the TV and read me Christmas story after Christmas story. I snuggled onto his lap, listening to every word, and enjoying this quiet moment.

Then it was little present time. We were saving our big gifts for the morning, but he had a stocking for me and one for Nick. Next year, I was going to have one for him, too. Next year. It wasn't even a question that this was our first Christmas of many.

Daddy "helped" Nick empty his stocking, which we'd filled with everything from that basket at the pet store and a few other items we'd picked up since. A string with a feather on it that connected to what looked like a fishing pole, some catnip balls, and far too many fancy treats. Among other things. Nick was spoiled, and he loved it that way. Daddy threw one of the balls, and Nick was like a kitten, running around, chasing it all through the apartment.

"Now it's your turn, my sweet boy."

The stocking was huge and filled to the brim. One by one, I unwrapped the gifts: a bottle emblazoned with, If Found, Return to the North Pole , a new paci, a onesie that said, Daddy's Sweet Boy on it, Christmas socks, mittens, a set of blocks that were really small and could be used on the coffee table, a couple of fidgets, and a reusable sticker book with lots of stickers.

"This is the best stocking I've ever gotten. Thank you, Santa Daddy! Or is it, Daddy Santa?"

"Just Daddy will do." He reached up, cupped my cheek, and kissed my lips gently. "Now, Christmas can't come to little boys who stay up too late."

"It's not late," I protested.

He pointed to the clock. It was late.

We cuddled into bed together, and he gave me milk in my brand-new bottle. I sucked it down and fell asleep in his arms.

When I woke in the morning, it was to the smell of bacon. Daddy's side of the bed was empty.

I padded into the kitchen to find him. "You weren't supposed to do this." I had planned to make him breakfast, not the other way around.

"Maybe not, but I wanted to."

There were stacks of pancakes, bacon, and he was pouring scrambled eggs into the pan to be cooked. "It's important to start your day with a good breakfast."

I didn't argue with him that it was hardly the most nutritious breakfast. It was Christmas—it didn't need to be.

"Merry Christmas, Forrest." He put a plate in front of me.

"Merry Christmas, Cliff."

Nick stood on the floor next to us, his eyes darting back and forth.

"He thinks he deserves a special treat," Daddy said.

"You mean, like bacon?" I picked up a piece.

"We shall see." He took it from me and gave it to Nick, who ran off with it like he had won the best prize ever. And in a way, he had. It was bacon.

After breakfast, it was present time, and I couldn't wait for Cliff to open mine. It was just a watch, and he already had one, so maybe he wouldn't even love it, but it had seemed perfect at the time. Now that it was time to open gifts, I was getting nervous.

"You open mine first," Daddy said, handing me a box.

"That's not fair. I opened presents last night. You open mine first."

He was about to argue but must have seen the resolve in my face because he opened it.

"This is beautiful." He took out the watch.

"Turn it over."

When he did, he saw the inscription I had put there: To the best daddy ever. Love, your sweet boy .

"It's perfect." He immediately put it on. "I love it so much. Not as much as I love you, but a close second."

Nick walked over, as if on cue.

"Fine. A close third."

Nick jumped up on the couch and sat between us.

"Your turn."

I opened the box. Inside was a key—a house key.

"I feel like there's an explanation to go along with my present."

"Yeah, it's more a gesture than a present. I know it's soon, but I want us to live together."

"Really?" I wasn't sure why I asked. Daddy didn't play games. It was probably me processing it more than anything else.

"Yeah, and it doesn't have to be my place. We can get our own place, or we can live here. All I'm sure about is that I don't like waking up without you."

"I don't like it either." I set the box to the side and climbed onto his lap, facing him, holding his cheeks in my hands. "How about we don't do it anymore? How about we wake up in each other's arms every single morning?"

"Sounds like a good plan to me."

"Merry Christmas, Daddy."

"Merry Christmas, my sweet boy."

I brought my lips down to his for a kiss on this first, but far from our last, Christmas.