Page 40 of Christmas Angel
“Carl and I are having a holiday movie marathon, and he thought you might want to get your mind off missing the kids.”
Ah. So he wants to make it clear this is a pity thing. For a friend. Fine. I’ll take it.
“Yeah. That would be really nice. We lost power here, so I could use a place to stay tonight. If that’s still alright?”
“Heat too?” Saint tries to hide his concern, but it warms me to know he still cares, even if he’s trying not to show it.
“Yeah.”
“Well, pack a bag and come on over. I’m at Carl’s place and we’re making some comfort food since his boyfriend ditched him last minute for a work emergency.”
“Oh, that stinks.”
“It sure does. See you soon?”
“I’ll be there. Thanks, Saint.”
“Don’t mention it, Angel. We can—”
My phone cuts out mid-sentence. The screen is completely dark as it chimes its little power off jingle.
Well, good thing Saint offered me somewhere to go for tonight. I’m not going to obsess over what he wanted to do with me—much. I throw a few things into the overnight bag I’ve been using for our weekend visits. Debate whether to include the gift the kids picked out for him after realizing he got them both the top asks on their wish lists.
I had to tell Owen that the big box under the tree is his new console when Meg got her new phone early, but he’s practically been a saint about waiting for the holiday to open it. I hold the gift-wrapped proof that my kids like the man I’ve been falling for and consider what to do with it, chest tight with emotions I’m not sure how to handle. Saint is definitely being weird with me.
I was just starting to get comfortable with my kids knowing about Saint’s place in my life. If I’m honest, I was starting to think I could rely on his friendship to be there for me when I need it. Did he really have to wait until he slipped past all my defenses to get all weirdly distant? Am I going to have to remember him every time Owen plays his new games?
I should pack the gift, I don’t want it here to remind me of all the good times—his steady, caring presence in my life—if this is the end of our regular Thursday nights. But I still hesitate, since I wasn’t with them, I’m not sure what the kids got for Saint, just that they asked me to give it to him tonight. It could be anything.
They went shopping with Marcus and Gail, and then again with Trevor’s mom at the holiday market a few days ago when she made the hour drive into town. I’ve always tried to include her in their lives, even when Trevor flakes on their plans. I get along with their grandmother well enough. Better than my nonexistent relationship with my folks. They spend their winters on some beach somewhere, last I heard.
While I dither over the present, I make sure I have everything else I might need, phone charger for sure so the kids can get in touch if they need me. Their gift might make Saint uncomfortable. I’m sure he’ll realize it’s not trivial for him to make it onto my kids’ very limited gift list. On the one hand, I don’t want to put that pressure on him, however indirectly. But not letting him know won’t change the fact that they got it for him, and they’re going to ask me about his reaction.
I stuff the parcel into my bag and make sure that everything is turned off in the apartment in case the power comes back while I’m gone. It’s clear what happened to the power as soon as I step outside. Ice encases every bare tree branch and power line in glittering crystals. It was raining earlier, a steady drizzle that melted the festive snow and apparently turned into freezing rain while I was napping. It’s treacherous out here, but a part of me is relieved it’s not just faulty wiring or something specific to our building again.
I make my way gingerly out to the truck and hop into the driver’s seat. Much as I hate taking advantage of Marcus’s kindness, it’s a relief not praying the engine will actually turn over every time I stick the key in the ignition.
The drive to Saint and Carl’s duplex is weirdly quiet, practically no one on the icy streets and all the houses lit up. Well, except the ones on our block where the power outage seems pretty widespread. The rain for most of the day means the snow that was starting to accumulate is mostly a slushy, frozen mess. The icy coating on every surface makes for a starkly different kind of winter wonderland. It would be more wondrous if I didn’t know how destructive that much ice can be.
It feels like I’m the only one without a family and a place to be tonight, driving past all the festive homes with cars in their drives. All those other families gathered together around their trees. I know that’s far from reality, but it’s a lonely few minutes and I second-guess whether Saint even wants me there a thousand times.
I’m still worrying my lip over whether there is anywhere else I can go when Saint opens the door to Carl’s place as I walk up the front stairs. Saint takes one look at my face and sweeps me into a hug. And I have a haven here in his arms.
All my doubts and reading into his kiss last night evaporate when Saint holds me. Things between us might change, but I get one more night of his friendship. That’s exactly what I need right now.
Christmasmusicandmovementwake me from a sound sleep. I take a moment to orient myself. I’m sprawled on Carl’s couch, legs across Saint’s lap. Saint lies slumped half on top of me. His hand rests lightly on my hip, his cheek nestled against me. There’s an empty spot on Saint’s other side where Carl was sitting when I fell asleep sometime around three movies into our holiday marathon.
It takes me a moment to realize Carl didn’t go up to bed after the movies. He’s standing in the front window, looking out at whatever is making the racket that woke us.
“Oh!” Carl exclaims, with all the wonder of a little kid catching Santa’s arrival.
Then he claps a hand over his mouth and glances toward the couch, like he doesn’t want to wake Saint and me. It’s endearing. The sort of moment where I completely understand Saint’s protectiveness toward the giant teddy bear of a man.
Carl dashes for the door. I yawn and crane my neck to see what caught his attention. It looks like fresh snow. Brr. I’m plenty cold enough. I contemplate snuggling closer to Saint, but I don’t want to wake him. When I glance at his face, he’s smiling at me.
“Have a good sleep, Angel?” He reaches to brush the long hair out of my face.
“Yeah.” I stretch, yawning widely. “You?”