Page 19 of Christmas Souls
"Yeah."
"You're something else, you know that?" He hesitates. "I know you don't want to think about the future, but…"
I immediately interrupt him so he doesn't finish that sentence.
"Nothing, Michael. Let it be."
"It's just—these past few weeks with you have been so amazing. Can we agree on that, at least?"
My features soften, and I turn to him.
"It's been wonderful, Michael."
"We've never been this in touch—this connected to one another. It's a little disturbing, but in a good way."
I squeeze my hand against his and try to keep the tears from flowing. The sex has been life-changing, and we've become so much closer. None of it matters, though. I'm enslaved to someone in New York. If only I could tell him.
"I think I'm ready to skate."
Michael's face tells me he's not done talking, but I can't deal with this conversation about connection, caring, and maybeeven love. I've known him for a long time. He's not one to take relationships lightly.
We close up the car and go rent some skates. Michael helps me put them on, and we glide onto the pond, arm in arm like two star-struck lovers. We joke around and try to do twirls and skate backward like we did when we were teenagers. After a couple of hours, though, I'm sweaty and getting chilled.
"Time to go, baby girl."
He drags me to the benches, where he takes my skates off and puts my shoes back on. It's such a caring gesture. I want to cry.
"We need to get the pot roast from grandma's house if you want to have that for dinner."
"Okay, we can do that. Let’s get you inside the car where it's warm."
On the way over, he puts on some Christmas music. It's been over for eight weeks, but he knows I love these songs and don't mind listening to them outside of the season. When we approach my grandmother's house, we see a strange car in the driveway.
"Do you know whose car that is?" I ask Michael.
"I do, but I don't know what the hell he's doing here."
A chill goes through me, and all the blood rushes out of my face. Michael doesn't notice because he's still mumbling about the mayor. Oh no. The mayor’s going to out me, isn't he?
"Maybe we should go, Michael."
"No, I want to know why he's here."
He opens his door violently and gets out of the car. I hurry to follow and see that the mayor is getting out of his car, too. I almost bump into Michael's back in my rush to get in between the confrontation that is sure to take place.
"What do you want, Gene?" Michael asks.
"Time has run out, Miss Schmidt." The mayor says, looking directly at me.
"What are you talking about?" Michael asks.
"Miss Schmidt and I have an agreement, and she's no longer going to be dating you. She's all mine now."
Michael laughs at his words and pulls me to his side.
"You'll never put one of your filthy fingers on her, Gene. Not as long as I live."
"Michael…" I try to interject.