10. Kray

10

KRAY

I t’s five on Christmas morning, and I’m warming my hands in front of the industrial oven that’s currently cooking breakfast for a hundred kids.

I haven’t been up this early on Christmas Day since I was a kid checking if Santa Claus had come to the house.

Christmas music plays in the kitchen as a team of volunteers butters bread and prepares scrambled eggs for the kids who will be arriving in a few hours.

Cleo has an apron tied over her trademark all-black outfit, no colors even for Christmas, and a wide smile on her face as she peels potatoes. She’s leading the kitchen team of volunteers who are mostly ex-foster kids like her.

Some children will be here for breakfast while we’re expecting about two hundred for lunch, plus their foster families if they want to join us.

There are games planned and singing, and some poor schmuck is dressing up as Santa Claus.

I’m whistling to myself as I butter toast, and when I reach for a new bag of bread, my eye catches Cleo’s. She gives me a smile that warms my chest and makes my heart feel like it’s floating.

She’s happy here, doing good and making a difference to people’s lives.

My girl’s an angel, and that makes me love her even more. Because yeah, I do love Cleo.

I’ve loved her since the moment I saw her photo, and that love has grown stronger every day I’ve spent with her.

When this is over, I’m going to tell her how I feel and ask her to come back to the Coast with me. If she wants a family, I’ll give her one. There’ll always be a place for Cleo with me.

It’s a few hours later and my hands are sore from buttering toast. Not that I’d ever admit that to anyone.

“The first kids are here!”

A young woman runs in excitedly, wearing reindeer antlers and a red nose, and she’s got a string of tinsel stuck to her foot.

While we’ve been working in the kitchen, another group of volunteers has been decorating the hall.

I grab a tray of toast while Cleo takes a plate of bacon, and we head out into the hall.

A boy who looks to be about seven years old comes in the door. His eyes widen as he takes in the big Christmas tree in the corner and the lights that are strung round the room. In the center of the hall are tables where we lay down the plates of food.

The boy is joined by two girls who are slightly younger. One of them carries a raggedy soft toy in her hands, the gray bunny pulled tightly to her chest.

“Hey.” Cleo crouches next to the girl. “Do you want some Christmas breakfast?”

The girl eyes Cleo warily, and it breaks my heart to see such suspicion on the face of a young girl. I can’t comprehend what some of these kids have been through.

But Cleo can. She’s been through it too.

With compassion, she takes the girl by the hand and leads her over to the table. I don’t hear what Cleo says to her, but within a few minutes, the girl smiles at Cleo and a few moments later they’re laughing together.

I turn my attention away. I can’t do anything about the past and what these kids have been through, but I can make sure today is one experience they’ll remember for all the right reasons.

I find the little boy flicking ornaments on the Christmas tree and crouch next to him.

“Hey.”

He takes a cautious step back, which makes me glad I swapped my MC cut for a bright-green Christmas jumper with a snowman on it that I found in Ethan’s drawer.

“You want to play with the trains?”

The boy looks hesitant, and I point over to a corner where there are a bunch of toys, including a wooden train set.

The boy runs over, and I join him. Soon we’ve built a track and we’re racing each other around. He cracks up laughing every time we crash into each other.

It doesn’t take long for the place to fill up, and I’m called back to the kitchen.

There are organized games for the kids while we get lunch ready. It’s a proper Christmas roast with all the trimmings.

When we serve lunch, the volunteers join the kids at the table.

I reach across Cleo to pull my Christmas cracker with her. She’s got a green paper hat on that’s fallen lopsided, and my chest swells at the sight of her.

I catch her eye and she smiles. Then the little girl tugs on Cleo’s sleeve and takes her attention away.

As I take a bite of my Christmas dinner, I can’t help thinking this is the best Christmas I’ve ever had.

After dinner, Santa visits and each kid gets a present. The hall is filled with laugher and shrieks of delight.

It’s late afternoon before the last of the kids are gone and we’re finally done with the cleanup. Some of the volunteers are going for a Christmas drink, but Cleo looks tired. She smiles gratefully when I suggest we go straight home.

For the entire drive back to Fitzpatrick Place, Cleo is pressed against my back. The warmth from her body warms me up on the inside.

When we get back to the apartment, she slides off my bike. I take her hand as we walk upstairs.

“You were amazing today,” I tell her.

Cleo shrugs as if it’s no big deal.

“It’s a way to give back. We’re shown all these images and movies about Christmas being about family. The perfect family sitting around at home, Dad carving the turkey, and Mom making dinner. I used to dread Christmas. It reminded me of all the things I didn’t have. At least with a foster kid’s Christmas party, for one day you felt like you belonged, like someone did care. And if I can help other kids feel like that, then that’s the perfect Christmas for me.”

By this time, we’re upstairs. The fairy lights strung around the apartment building flicker, making her features glow softly.

“You’re the most kindhearted person I know.”

Cleo snorts. “Please. I’m a cold-hearted bitch. Ask anyone in the office. That’s why Ethan likes me as his assistant. I’m not afraid to tell people to fuck off.”

She sticks her chin out defiantly, and yeah, there’s no question Cleo can be tough when she wants, but she’s also kind and thoughtful and soft on the inside.

Cleo unlocks the door, and we go into the apartment. I flick the fairy lights on, making the room twinkle.

Cleo slides her shoes off and dumps her purse on the table. She’s tired after the long day, but I’m not missing another chance with her.

I take Cleo’s hand, making her pause as I pull her toward me.

“You are an amazing woman. What you did today, what it means to those kids…” I trail off, not sure how to go on. “You’re amazing.”

She’s looking at me as if she’s unsure that I mean it. And she’s so fucking beautiful that I can’t get my words out. I can’t tell her all the things I wanted to say today. Instead, I pull her toward me and press my lips to hers.

She gives way to me immediately. This time, we haven’t had anything to drink, and she isn’t high on the thrill of a ride. This time, as Cleo kisses me back, I know that this is exactly what she wants.