Page 59 of Vixen's Guide to Christmas
Because this is it. What I felt for her on that first night wasn’t a flash in a pan. It wasn’t one spontaneous night that I romanticized in my head. This was everything.
Just like her.
18
grayson
Whoever is callingmy phone right now can go straight to hell.
I mean, how dare they call me at—I peek open an eye to see exactly what time it is—8:58 in the morning. Sure, it’s not the crack of dawn, but when I have a sleeping, naked, Kat on my chest, under blankets so warm that I never want to leave, anyone calling me at this hour is getting an automatic “fuck you” greeting. I don’t care that it’s Christmas Eve.
I reach over to grab my phone, ready to silence it, when I see that it's none other than my father calling.
Lovely.
"Good morning, Dad," I groan, trying to wiggle my way from underneath Kat as to not wake her up. "Merry Christmas Eve."
"Where the hell are you?"
Well, that was just a warm greeting.
"I'm in Tennessee. I told you and Mom I was stuck."
"Still?"
So this is how my morning is going to start. Yay.
"Yes, Father. That's what 'snowed in' means," I say as I step into the bathroom and shut the door behind me.
"Well, don't they have snowplows? What kind of state are you living in?”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. I thought not being with my family today would mean I could avoid the annual Christmas migraine. "Dad, as I said to you and Mom when I texted a few days ago, unfortunately, I'm stuck here. Tennessee isn’t prepared to handle this kind of snow. It’s been going for three days now nonstop. It's not like in Connecticut where everybody and their brother owns a snowplow. The roads and the airports are shut down.”
“Well, is it ending anytime soon?”
I love how he thinks I’m suddenly a meteorologist. Though even if I was, I still wouldn’t be a coveted lawyer.
“The earliest I'm getting out of here is likely tomorrow night."
"Well, Christmas will be over by then."
Does he not think I don't own a calendar or know how time works? "Yes, Dad. I understand that that's what it means. I’m sorry I’ll miss the festivities. Plus, who knows how badly backed up the flights will be. It’s probably best that I just stay home this year. I’ll try to get there in a few months to see everyone.”
“Oh no, you still need to come home,” he says in a tone that leaves no room for a negotiation.
“Why are you so hell-bent on this?” I ask. “I’m going to miss tonight and all day tomorrow. The earliest I’d make it back is tomorrow night, but the airports are going to be a madhouse. So for all I know I’ll be coming in after midnight. Is me coming home right now really that big of a deal?”
“Ugh!” I feel him rolls his eyes. “You're going to miss it."
"Christmas?" I ask. “I mean, is Santa Claus himself coming? I feel like he knows the weather and will understand why I can’t make it.”
"Why are you being a smartass about this?" he huffs. “You’re going to miss the big announcement.”
“What announcement?”
“We were going to wait until the whole family was together—all of the uncles, aunts, and cousins—and we thought Christmas dinner would be the best place.”
“Well, don’t keep me waiting Dad. I’m on the edge of my seat.”
