Page 17 of A Little Christmas 4: Teller
I went to my small closet and pulled out a pair of black chinos and a rust-colored sweater I’d found at a secondhand store. It was a quality item, and I loved it. I grabbed a pair of boxer briefs and an undershirt before I turned to Briggs, who was adjusting his dress shirt and tie. He’d taken off his suit coat when he came inside.
“I’ll be right back.” I hurried into the bathroom and closed the door.
After putting my clean clothes on the counter, I turned to look in the full-length mirror hanging on the back of the door. “Don’t fuck this up.” I hoped to hell I could take my own advice.
Chapter Eight
Briggs
Holy hell. The place was a full-fledged dump. The old plaster was falling from the ceilings and walls. The baseboards were busted and filled with a million nails where someone had tried to keep the pieces on the walls, and the likelihood of asbestos and mold was higher than the national debt.
It was easy to see that Teller was a proud man. His surroundings were clean and his personal belongings were well organized, but I could definitely see there was more to his story. If it took the rest of my life, I’d find out all the wrongs he’d endured and do my very best to make them up to him.
Getting my car couldn’t wait because I wasn’t able to do anything without it, so I called the parking garage under my office building and asked them to bring the Merc to Teller’s place. After that, I phoned the restaurant in my hotel and made a reservation for us at noon.
The shower was running, so I went out to the hall and down the stairs to Maizie’s apartment. I knocked on the door, and a moment later, Barrett answered. His clothes were disheveled, and his face was flushed. “Hey, Briggs. Everything okay with Teller?”
“Yes. I’m having my car brought over. He needs to run some errands, and we’re going to get lunch. I’ll drop him off at Bloomfield’s for work. Do I need to swing by and pick up Maizie? Everything okay?” He was holding a pillow in front of his crotch, and it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out why.
“It will be in a minute. I’ll run by the office and get the files we talked about on Monday after I drop Maizie at Bloomfield’s.” The last thing on his mind was work—as it should be when someone was with the person they loved.
“I’ve already asked Madeline to send them to my hotel. We can meet for lunch over the weekend and go over everything. I’ll make notes in the files. Anything you need from me?” I asked.
Barrett glanced over his shoulder and turned back to me with a smirk. “No, but thanks. I think I’ve got everything I need.”
We shook hands, and I went back upstairs to check on my baby boy. We were starting at square one, and I wasn’t going to skip anything. We both deserved to enjoy the beginning of our relationship, and I wanted to make at least a million memories with him. He was unlike anyone I’d ever met.
When I returned to the apartment, I heard a hairdryer through the bathroom door and smiled. Teller always appeared so put together that it had been a surprise to see him looking disheveled when he’d opened the door. He was fucking adorable in those footed pajamas.
I wondered if he had more of those pajamas or if he wore other styles as well. I wouldn’t go through his chest of drawers out of respect for his privacy, but I would check out the things in the open.
I walked over to a small bookcase to see toys: small metal cars, trucks, some modeling clay, several action figures, some games—Chutes and Ladders,Hungry, Hungry Hippo. Compared to the littles I’d met before, Teller’s selection was relatively small.
I glanced around the large room that was his entire living space, taking in the old plasma-screen television precariously balanced between two milk crates with a gaming system stashed below one of them. It had all seen better days.
There was a stack of comic books that appeared to be organized by universe, character, and series number. They were dated a few years ago, so not current, but they were in good condition. I doubted they were sought-after editions, but it was a sign that there were many levels to Teller’slittle.
Taking in the entire scene, I noticed that his toys didn’t appear new. They had been lovingly played with by children or other littles before Teller came to own them. A part of me hated thatfor him, but he didn’t seem like the kind of guy who would complain or turn up his nose.
I examined a nice pair of loafers sitting by his closet door. They’d been resoled, and the leather upper, though polished beautifully, seemed to have been worn before Teller came to own them. They were a quality brand, even if they weren’t new. I expected nothing less of my little fashionista.
As I glanced around the little apartment, I could see everything he owned had probably belonged to someone else before Teller acquired it. I knew he didn’t want things from me, but he deserved only the best. From that minute forward, he would only get the best.
“I’m almost ready,” Teller said as he bounced onto the side of the bed, pulling on his socks and those black shoes.
“You look very nice. How late do you have to work?” I asked. I needed to call my mom and let her know to set an extra place for dinner tomorrow.
“Uh, probably until midnight. We have to clean up and get the store ready for Black Friday. It opens at seven, and nobody wants to come in at five to do it. I’m working the morning shift on Black Friday—seven until two, then I’m working at O’Malley’s from four until eleven.” He took a shoe brush and swiped at the tops of his shoes a couple of times before he stood and adjusted the rust sweater he’d tucked into his pants.
“Okay. Uh, pack up your stuff. You can stay with me tonight. We’re leaving to go to my parents at nine, and I want to be sure you get enough sleep. I want you to be well rested, and taking the bus home at midnight doesn’t seem to be conducive to getting enough sleep.” I studied his face to see if there was any hesitation. His slow smile relieved the knots in my gut.
“You want me to go to your parents’ house? Why would you…? I’ve never gone to anyone’s… It’s a family holiday, and I’m not family,” Teller said, seeming unsure of what else to say.
I took Teller’s hand and led him to the couch, where I sat and then pulled him to stand between my legs. I placed my hands on his slender hips. “I should have asked instead of insisting, so I apologize.” I rested my forehead against his tight abdomen to take a breath.
Finally, I glanced up and met his gaze. “Will you go with me to my parents’ house for Thanksgiving dinner? My mother is an excellent cook, and she’d be happy to have another guest at her table.” Maybe he wasn’t family yet, but if I had my way, he would be soon.
“I, uh, I’d love to. I mean, if it’s not too much trouble for your mother, I’d love to go with you to your family dinner.” He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around my shoulders. I hugged him tightly in return.
