Page 53 of Baran
“You’re like your father. He is a huge donor in the city.”
“I never knew that about him.”
The snow fell in thick flakes, covering the windshield as they got into the car. The traffic was so thick; it was barely moving, cars inching forward like snails. The trip would take forever.
“I’m going to stop in a hotel and get us a room. I don’t have the patience to drive through this mess.”
“Really? That sounds like fun.”
“We can relax and watch a movie in bed.”
“Perfect.”
“Use my phone and send Charlotte a message that we won’t be coming home. Too much traffic.”
“Yes, she would be worried.” Baran sent her a message.
Darien turned off the main road, the engine purring as he cruised towards the hotel.
Chapter Twenty-six Baran
The thick snow fell, blanketing the city in a muted white stillness that made Baran feel both trapped and oddly cozy. Baran and Daddy Darien had been inching along in traffic for what felt like forever before Daddy Darien finally sighed with relief, turned the wheel, and pulled into the hotel.
The room they found themselves in was average size but warm, with soft golden lighting and a large window overlooking the street below. The view was mesmerizing—a tangle of holiday lights wrapped around lampposts, flickering through the curtain of falling snow. Cars sat idle beneath the layer of white, their drivers resigned to the storm’s whim.
After they removed their jackets and shoes, Baran stood at the window, watching the snowflakes tumble from the sky like they were trying to outdo each other in size and grace. Behind him, Daddy Darien had already flopped onto one bed, scrolling through his phone. Then he called room service and asked for two hot chocolates.
“It never ends,” Baran muttered, mostly to himself. He turned to see Daddy Darien raise an eyebrow.
“What doesn’t?”
“Christmas.” Baran waved vaguely at the window. “It goes on forever. Lights, snow, songs, movies—it’s like an entire season.”
Daddy Darien laughed and got off the bed. “It is an entire season. That’s kind of the point. People like dragging it out.”
Baran huffed, crossing his arms. “Not in Istanbul. The few people who celebrate Christmas only do one day. A good meal, maybe a little dancing. Then it’s done. This”—he gestured outside—“is too much.”
Daddy Darien grinned again, getting up to answer the door then dig into the paper bag room service had delivered. He handed Baran a cup of steaming hot chocolate. “I think it’s nice. Makes everything feel a little warmer, you know?”
Baran accepted the cup, though he still looked skeptical. “How does your family celebrate?”
Daddy Darien sat back on the bed, leaning against the headboard. “Oh, the usual stuff. My mom’s a Christmas fanatic. We spend the entire week leading up to it decorating, baking cookies, wrapping gifts. My dad insists on watchingIt’s a Wonderful Lifeevery year. And my cousin Norah—” he paused, grinning, “—she’s the one who gets us all matching pajamas for Christmas Eve.”
Baran nearly choked on his hot chocolate. “Matching…pajamas?”
“Yup,” Daddy Darien said proudly. “And we wear them all day on Christmas. Even to breakfast.”
Baran shook his head, though a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “Ridiculous.”
“It’s fun.”
“Will your cousin Norah visit your parents this Christmas?”
“My parents took her in when my uncle and aunt were in a fatal car accident. She’s been with us since she was four. She’s more of a sister.”
“She was lucky to have a caring aunt and uncle.”
Daddy Darien corrected him. “We think we were the lucky ones. It’s fun. And you’ll love my mom’s cooking. She makes this roast that’s practically legendary in our neighborhood.”
