Page 56 of Peppermint Bark

“You fell asleep too quickly to notice.”

“It was a long week,” he sighed with a frown. At such close range, I saw every wrinkle. “Where are you going?”

“Work.”

“On Christmas?”

“You didn’t even know it was Christmas.”

“I do now.”

“You didn’t tell me you were coming, so I couldn’t plan around that.” And it still wouldn’t have stopped me. I always work on Christmas.

“So you’re gonna … go?” he asked. “On Christmas?”

“Mental health doesn’t stop because it’s a holiday. Honestly, it’s worse for a lot of people. Plus, I volunteered to cover Thanksgiving and Christmas so I could get time off to go up north with your family.”

“But I want you here.” Then he started singing … or attempting to, anyway. “I don’t want a lot for Christmas, there is just one thing I need.”

Wow, his voice was … terrible. I tried to restrain a wince, which only encouraged him, like he knew he couldn’t carry a tune. “I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree …”

No way was he faking it. A good singer couldn't pretend this badly.

Plus, he was smirking.

“Please stop,” I said calmly, putting my index finger over his mouth.

He kissed my fingertip and said, “Make me.” Then continued his torturous negotiation: “Make my wish come true …” Oh my gosh, he was warbling.

I kissed him. I had to. Because I couldn’t listen for a second longer, and the jerk knew it.

We kissed for a few minutes, then he pulled away. “Why do you always work Christmas? Too many bad memories?” His perceptive blue eyes searched mine. I hadn’t told him, but he’d figured out a lot about that day seven — no, eight. Eight years ago today.

I nodded. His eyes flashed with emotion as he pushed me on my back, hovering over me. “Is this like Feliz Navidad?” He asked with another soft kiss. “Can I help you replace the bad memories with something more pleasant? I’ve got time to make it up to you.”

Now he had time. Now, when it was convenient for him to roll into my house at 3 am, he had all the time in the world. But I didn’t.

“I’m going to be late.” I rolled away, but our legs stayed intertwined.

“When will you be home?” Home, he said, as if he lived here with me.

“I planned to go straight to your parents' house for Christmas dinner. And if this is going to —” I waggled a finger between our chests, and his mouth twitched into a grin, “I need to get the ok from your sister.”

His smile faltered. “She’s the last thing —”

“If Mallory suspects something between us before I have the chance to talk to her …” my voice tightened at the thought of betraying my best friend.

“We don’t have to tell her,” he whispered as his thumb caressed my jaw.

Oh hell no. I’d read too many stories of trans women being a quick fling, a conquest for straight men to cross off the bingo card, then being discarded.

“Yes we do,” I said with an edge in my voice, pushing away from him and rolling out of the bed. “I won’t risk my friendship with Mallory for… whatever this is. I won’t be your dirty little trans secret.”

He scrambled out of bed. “You can’t possibly think —”

“Don’t tell me what to think,” I snapped. “You disappeared five days ago with a woman Kate said was your girlfriend. Mallory said you started dating when she was still in high school.”

He looked annoyed, surprised anybody would recognize her … as if she weren't unforgettably gorgeous. “We broke up four years ago, but we still work together. It’s complicated.”

---