Though my body wasn't happy with me for it, my heart soared when I woke up with Rylan still safe in my arms, exactly where he was supposed to be. Outside, the sun was high in the sky and the snow that’d been falling the night before had cleared away. I had no idea what time it was, but it didn't matter, because I wasn't ready for this to be over. As far as I was concerned, we could have stayed wrapped up together forever.

I listened to Rylan’s soft snores, which rumbled in my chest because we were so close, and basked in the smell of his sweet scent. It was far from the first time we'd been together sexually, but it’d been like the first time all over again. In fact, it was more intense than it’d ever been.

During the holidays people spent absurd amounts of time and money on gifts for their loved ones, agonizing over the perfect gadget or knick-knack to give, but I realized I’d been given the kind of gift no one could buy: a second chance with the only man I'd ever loved. Tears welled in my eyes and Rylan rolled to face me, his fluttering open. Had I woken him?

"Are you okay?" he asked, his nose brushing against mine as he spoke.

"Perfect," I choked out as I stroked his side and watched the tide of goosebumps ripple across his skin. He smiled and kissed me.

"That makes two of us," he said, reaching up to stroke my hair with his knuckles. "This is the best Christmas I could've asked for."

"I'm sorry for everything. You know, all the stuff that happened before," I said. It’d come from nowhere, but I had to say it. There might not ever be another moment as perfect as this. He pressed a finger to my lips to quiet me.

"You don't have to apologize. I think we covered all those bases already," he said and I laughed. "But if it makes any difference, I'm sorry too. I shouldn't have left you the way I did, and I haven't gone a single day since I left town without regretting it."

"It doesn't matter. You're here now, we’re together, and this is a perfect Christmas morning. Let's not ruin it," I said. We lay together for close to an hour without saying another word, enjoying the closeness of each other, making up for lost time. How had I gone for two whole years without this? It seemed unfathomable.

"You know, there's really only one way this could get better," he broke the silence, raising an eyebrow at me.

"Oh? How's that?" Before he replied, his stomach growled. "I guess that answers it," I laughed and he joined me. "What are you in the mood for? I'm not really sure what's appropriate to cook for Christmas morning," I continued. My family always ate something left over from the massive meal the day before, but since we hadn’t had any kind of feast, there weren't any.

"Anything, really. General breakfast stuff is good," he said. It would be a good way to repay him for the gift of pulling me out of my funk and making me decorate the house, so I slithered out from behind him and went to my bedroom to get my robe. There’s nothing quite as painful as grease spatters on a naked body.

In the fridge, there were just enough eggs to scramble for the two of us and a few sorry pieces of bacon I hadn't yet cooked. It was definitely not a glorious breakfast, but it would put something in our stomachs nonetheless, so I pulled out the ingredients, retrieved dishes to cook them in, and got to work.

"How do you have this much energy in the morning without any coffee?" he asked as he sat up on the couch and searched for his clothes. In my opinion, there wasn't any need for that, I wasn't done admiring him, but he was probably cold. The fire had gone out at some point in the night and the heater wasn't keeping up with the creeping cold from outside.

"Years of experience getting up before the sun does," I answered. In my other job, taking care of the parks for the city, I had to report by 7 AM, sometimes earlier depending on the amount of work that needed to be done. Thanks to the economic downturn, most of the staff in the parks and recreation department had been laid off, but I'd been there for so long—twenty years now—that I was more or less indispensable, which was great for job security, but not so great for workload. Like I said, in many ways the gig at the grocery store was a reprieve from that lifestyle.

"You don't drink coffee at all? I seem to remember you sucking back more than a few cups at the grocery store," he said, shoving a leg into his pants and exposing himself through his boxers for a second, a second in which I nearly dropped one of the eggs I'd been holding. I cleared my throat and cracked the egg against the side of the frying pan before spilling its contents onto the flat iron surface.

"I do from time to time if I really need it. I'm feeling pretty energized this morning though," I said, winking at him over my shoulder. His face rushed to life in shades of red and he looked down at the floor, presumably searching for more of his clothes.

"It was that good?" he asked and I laughed.

"It was better than good, it was perfect," I said. Despite not having any kind of sexual contact for the last two years that he'd been gone, our night together on the floor by the fire eclipsed anything I might’ve found in the interim. It wasn't that I was saving myself for him or anything like that, it was more so that I’d never found anyone who interested me in the same way. After he found his sweater and tugged it over his head, forcing his hair up in all different directions, he crossed the living room to come up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. A stiff hardness pressed against my lower back.

"There's plenty more where that came from. Besides, it looks like we’re missing some sausage for breakfast," he whispered into my ear as he placed a gentle kiss on my cheek and I shrugged him off me while I laughed.

"Unbelievable," I said.

"More like insatiable," he laughed as he sat down at the kitchen table. It only took a few more minutes for the bacon to fry and I used the grease to scramble the eggs, a Bashaw family recipe. When it was ready, I pulled a plate from the cupboard next to the stove and piled a healthy serving on it before passing it to Rylan. He sniffed at it, let out a pleased moan, and locked eyes with me.

"Smells delicious, but I think I'm gonna need a fork," he said and again I laughed. I took two forks from the drawer by the stove, brought out another plate for myself and loaded it up, and joined him at the table. The meal passed in relative silence, interspersed with moments of flirty eye contact. There were a million things I wanted to say, but there would be time for that later.

"That was great, thank you," he said when his plate was totally clear. He sat back against the chair and patted his stomach. There were pieces of egg stuck in his beard, and though I would've found it disgusting on anyone else, on him it was simply endearing.

I loved how uninhibited he was, envied it at times, even when it came to something as small and silly as food on his face. I reached across the table and brushed away the food with my thumb. He caught my hand and brought my thumb to his mouth, which he flicked with his tongue before slipping it all the way in, a re-creation of what we’d done the night before. My robe got much tighter.

"Stop that," I laughed, yanking my hand away from him.

"What? I’m ready for my sausage," he said, one corner of his mouth creeping up his face.

"I don't think sausage leaves solids behind on people's faces," I said and he burst out laughing, slapping one of his hands against the table and making the plates and silverware rattle. It reminded me of all the time we'd spent cracking each other up at work, playing pranks like locking the other in the walk-in cooler or putting fake spiders in the seasoning mix for the fried chicken.

More than anything else over the last two years, I missed this, this easy demeanor we had between us. No one seemed to understand me the same way he did, no one seemed to care to dive that deep. Where most people saw a reserved, strong silent type in me, Rylan seemed to see something much more. Despite the gap of years between us and the gap in life experience that came as a result, we fit each other perfectly. Imagining myself being with anyone else wasn’t possible.

"I missed this," he said, as if he'd been reading my mind. His fingers crept across the table and came to a rest on top of my hand.

"Me too," I said, reaching my thumb up to stroke his.

"Are we really doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Trying again." I wasn't sure how to answer that. We’d definitely crossed a threshold the night before and entered into uncharted territory, but even with a map we would've been directionless. How could we forge a path forward? Our lives were in two different places, physically and emotionally, with very little overlap—if any.

"I'd like to, but I don't know how it's going to work," I said. "What about you?"

"Absolutely. I wouldn't have let last night happen if I didn't," he said and his face flushed again beneath his beard, like the sun shining through a field of grass.

"How can this work? You live hundreds of miles away from me and I can’t just uproot myself to be with you there in New York, and I wouldn't expect you to give up your life and your dreams to live in this tiny shithole again," I confessed. I would've gladly put my two weeks’ notice in at the city and at the grocery store if it meant I could move to New York and be with Rylan again, but that wasn't realistic. I had no prospects, no real education, nothing to set me apart in a big city that swallowed people like New York did. What would I do there? It wasn't like I had any friends or real ties here in Monroe, but I at least had job security and a steady income, things I couldn't say I’d have there.

"We don’t have to figure that out right now. We've got all the time in the world," he said. It shouldn't have been enough for me, but it was. He brought my hand to his mouth and kissed the back of it, which wasn’t like him. Maybe I was rubbing off on him—in more ways than one. He stood abruptly and tore off around the corner into his bedroom.

"What are you doing?" I called after him as I collected his plate with mine and brought it to the sink to wash.

"Just stay there, I've got something for you," he said and that was about the last thing I wanted to hear. I hadn't gotten him anything for the holiday, a terrible oversight on my part, but I'd been so busy. Besides, he wasn't the petty type, so I doubted he’d be upset about it. The fact that he took time out to get me something at all meant more to me than I thought it would. I washed the dishes and set them in the drying rack by the sink.

"Close your eyes," he called down the hallway.

"What? Why?" I didn't like the sound of that.

"Just do it, otherwise the surprise will be ruined. Oh, and make sure your hands are dry too," he said.

"And how am I supposed to find the dishtowel with my eyes closed?"

"Very funny. Dry your hands first and then close your eyes, smart ass," he said and I chuckled as I did as I was told. After I dried my hands, I flung the dishtowel back on the counter, turned around to rest my back against the sink, closed my eyes, and held out my hands.

"Okay, Captain, I'm in position. Please advise," I said and his laughter, though subdued, carried over the sound of his footsteps as he approached. Of course, I cracked my eyes open enough to be able to see him without him noticing I was cheating, but I couldn't make out what he held.

"Ready?" he asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I said, sticking my hands out further. A moment later, something light with a sharp edge prodded the center of my palm. I opened my eyes and looked down to find a photograph, yellow and faded from age and exposure to the elements, of he and I working in the deli together years ago.

I choked at the sight, one hand flying up to cover my mouth. It was hard to say how old the photo was, because it’d been aged thanks to all the grease in the air from the chicken fryer, but I remembered the moment as if it were yesterday.

We stood shoulder to shoulder in the photo wearing Santa Claus hats and making silly faces at the camera. A woman named Karen, the deli manager who no longer worked there, had taken the photo of us on Christmas Eve. She'd mandated we all wear Santa hats to work and taken tons of pictures of us all. At the time I’d thought it was ridiculous but now that I held the photo in my hands, gratitude warmed me.

"Where did you get this?" I asked, holding it closer to my face. I looked happier there than I did in almost any other photo of myself I'd seen, including the ones lining the TV stand in the living room. I’d never liked having my photo taken, could never quite let go of the self-consciousness that’d dogged me for most of my life, but being around Rylan removed that barrier for me, which was blatantly obvious in the photo.

"I swiped it before I left the store," he said, and I looked up to find a smirk on his face. There was a corkboard behind one of the walls of the deli where we usually posted announcements and the staff schedule, and it was bordered by dozens of photos of the staff both in the deli and in the store at large. I’d never even noticed that this photo in particular had gone missing.

"Why?"

"It was the only picture I could find of us and I didn't want to leave without one," he said and something inside me cracked. So he hadn't just left and forgotten all about me. Of course, he’d said he hadn't, but it was one thing to say and another thing entirely to see it in the form of this photo he’d taken with him all the way to New York and back.

"How did you know? I mean, why did you bring this with you?"

"I keep it in my wallet," he said, looking down and shuffling his feet.

"Really?" I couldn't believe it. Granted, if I'd had a photo of him I probably would've done the same thing.

"Yeah, really. I look at it from time to time when I'm stressed out or need cheering up. It reminds me of better times and lots of laughs," he said. He looked up at me again and that was when I noticed he still had one hand behind his back.

"What's that? You know I hate surprises," I said.

"Oh, I just thought it would be nice to make some new memories," he said. Without warning, he yanked his hand out from behind his back. He held a camera, a small lime green thing with a flash that looked like it would be more at home in a cartoon than in a young man's luggage, and clicked the shutter. The flash created spots in my vision and I blinked several times to clear them away.

"What the hell?" I asked as I rubbed my eyes.

"Sorry, I probably shouldn't have ambushed you but I knew you wouldn’t let me take your picture otherwise," he said over the grinding noise of a photo being printed. I reached for it as it came out of the camera’s printer but he pulled it out of my way at the last second and flapped it between his fingers. After a few moments, he held it out in front of him and let out a low whistle.

"Nice, I like what you're showing off there," he said, raising his eyebrows as he passed me the photo. To my horror, it showed me with my robe parted in a deep V, showing off almost all of my chest, and the tent that’d started to form between my legs a few moments earlier.

"You're never getting this back," I said. "And besides, what the hell are you doing with something like this? Isn't this too outdated for you?" He'd always liked to be on the cutting edge of technology and this seemed like something from a time when I was his age. Was this some sort of fad taking over?

"Yes I am getting it back, and no, it's perfectly retro," he said, jumping and swatting at my hand as I held the photo out of his reach. Retro? Jesus, that dated me. "If you don't give it back, I'm just going to yank your robe off and take a photo of what's underneath." That got my attention, so I passed the photo back.

"I swear to God, if that ends up on the Internet somewhere…" I said.

"No worries there, it's just going right into my spank bank," he said and I laughed.

"Spank bank? Do I even want to know?"

"You know, spank bank, the wealth of material you keep in your head to jerk off to when you—"

"I know exactly what it means, you don't need to explain it to me," I said, my face tingling.

"Now that would make a cute picture," he said, lining up the camera’s viewfinder in front of his eye, his finger hovering over the shutter. I stuck my hand in front of the camera just as it flashed. He laughed as the camera slipped down. "Fine, have it your way," he said and stepped over to my side, wrapping an arm around my waist.

"Now what are you doing?"

"Taking a new picture of us together. You know, so that you at least have one on your TV stand where you don't look miserable," he said, tickling my side. I slapped his hand away and he laughed.

"Okay, if you really want a picture of us together that's fine, but at least let me put a shirt or something on," I said.

"I'd rather have one of you with no shirt at all," he said.

"Always with the jokes," I sighed as I tucked my robe back together and tightened the waist strap to keep it from falling open. "There, I think that's good enough." He wrapped his arm around me again and gave my butt a squeeze. "You’re relentless, aren't you?"

"Hey, it's been two years, can you blame a guy?" he asked and I burst out laughing. He held the camera in front of us and snapped the photo while I was in full laughter and pulled it out of the camera to shake it back and forth. Together, his arm still around my waist, we watched it develop. It wasn't a flattering photo by any means, but there was happiness in it and that was really all that mattered. I didn't want to forget this moment any more than he did.

"It's cute. It'll look good with the rest of your pictures of me," he said and my face burned.

"You know about that?"

"Know about it? Ben, you have an entire photo album dedicated to me, so it looks like I'm not the only one with a spank bank," he said and through my laughter I picked him up by the waist and hauled him into my bedroom.

"What are you doing?" he laughed, nibbling at my neck and earlobe. He knew perfectly well what I was doing.

"Well, since we’re filling up spank banks, I figured I should give you lots of material," I said as I slung him down on my bed and tore off my robe.