Page 33 of Merry Little Mishap

This wasn’t just Nick’s apartment anymore, this was my home…ourhome; evident with the photos of us on the wall, us smiling, eating overpriced Bryant Park croissants, wrestling with Marty at Jemmy’s Dog Run. This was our life, our beautiful life, and I was in charge of showing it to my family once they arrived. Would living together really cheapen all that? Did sex—the one thing we didn’t talk about growing up—mean that much to them? Couldn’t they see my happiness, my books mixed with Nick’s, my candles burning in his foyer, my plants hanging from his cabinets? We were intertwined, we were dancing, literally, on top of my rug, that sat below his couch.

“Being traditional is just really important to them. I’m sensitive to how they’ll react to certain things…”

“Like what?” Nick nodded to a counter full of sesame chicken and pork fried rice. “I know Chinese food isn’t part of a typical Puerto Rican Christmas, but I’m thinking it’s kind of ours now, right?”

“How could it not be? You know I count that night in the elevator as our first date.”

“Good, because I do, too. Speaking of which, are egg rolls an aphrodisiac?”

“Oh, stop!” I bit my lip, giving his ass a squeeze.

He chuckled in my ear.

“Seriously. What is it about Sichuan Garden? It’s like every time we eat there we fool around.”

“I think it’s the memories more than the food.” I kissed his arms, squeezing him tight as he lifted me in the air. He spun me around, setting me back on my feet. “But I agree… there’s something about their noodles.”

“Is it the slurping?”

“Sucking,” I emphasized, entranced by Nick’s fingertip tracing up my thigh, lifting my dress.

“Lots of sucking, huh, naughty-list girl?” His hand cupped my ass, taking advantage of how my thong barely covered my flesh. I was hot again, but enjoyably so, savoring how Nick kissed me slowly. “This is our tradition, and it’s not all about the sex. It’s about being honest with you, about how you’ve always meant more to me than anyone else. It’s about how I finally told you how I felt.” He nodded to a pyramid of fortune cookies. “It’s not just about the past, it’s about where we’re going…”

To hell?I thought.

Nick was right. Our newly formed tradition of Chinese food for Christmas was landmarked by memories of a year full of hot, premarital, sinful—oh, so delicious—sex. I couldn’t unsee it; sucking his cock on the couch, the time he fucked my ass on the kitchen counter, the window he pressed my tits against while eating me out. This house was a shrine of love, and a reminder of what would most likely give my abuelitaa heart attack. OH, god, the bedroom! While giving them a tour, they’d surely see our bed, the spot where Nick and I fucked at least three times a week. How could I show them that? How could I point and say,‘This is our bed, this is where we turn into animals and make noises that scare Marty’?

Ugh!

None of this would be weird if we’d only been more open as a family, if the topic of sex wasn’t treated like some fragile bomb of conversation. Did I even hide my dildos? I needed to put them away, because my cousins were total snoops, and I wouldn’t put it past them to check my nightstand.

Shit, it all made me so nauseous.

“Nick, there’s something I?—”

Nick’s hand pulled up to the small of my back, his hard body pressed against mine. “I know you’re stressed, baby. I promise everything will be ok. Look at us, what’s not to love? Even the priest will be smitten.”

“Priest? Mateo!”

“Mateo number 1,” Nick assured.

“No! Oh, shit, the Nativity! Nick!” I pulled away, scurrying. “They’re going to be here any minute and I forgot to set it up!”

“We got coquito! That should help.”

I rushed to the unopened Nativity box, impatiently biting into the plastic wrap. “It’s not enough. I’m not even surethisis enough.”

“Why not? Why are you so panicked?”

Marty barked.

“Because… there are expectations.”

“Is it our home? Our linens? What expectations? Wait, are you secretly royalty?” he asked suspiciously, being playful as I spat out a chunk of plastic.

“No, Nick, not royalty, just…royallydead! They’re expecting to come to my home, to my living room, to my bed where I live and sleep alone. My parents don’t know we live together!”

“What?” he scrunched his brow.

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