Track 19: Side A

Christmas Eve is Christmas for the Impatient

 

Lincoln

I wake up Christmas eve morning with a huge smile and excitement fluttering through me. Jace is pressed against me, snoring. His face is so peaceful, easily taking another piece of my heart and hoarding it away for himself. If I’m ever going to win Jace back, this is my chance. He loves Christmas, he always has. I remember how excited he always sounded over the phone the whole week leading up to Christmas. I always wished I could wake up with him on Christmas morning.

Before we got signed by the record label, I was already mentally planning my first Christmas with Jace. I was going to take him to a place where we could cut down our own tree, then we’d take it back to our apartment and decorate it together in front of a warm fireplace as we sipped hot cocoa. We’d listen to Christmas music and bake sugar cookies. And then, because neither of us could cook, we’d order Chinese food and eat it on the floor in front of the tree. I’d insist he open just one present on Christmas eve, and I’d nudge a small box at him. He’d tear it open excitedly, telling me I’d better not have spent much money on him. And when he fell silent, looking at the silver band inside the box, I’d tell him I’ve known since we were fifteen that I’d never love anyone but him, and that I couldn’t live another minute without knowing he would be my husband.

I wipe a stray tear away as I picture the perfect holiday I planned so long ago. A holiday that never happened. Instead, I spent that Christmas in Chicago, watching Jude snort his weight in coke.

I know I can’t have the entire perfect Christmas I’d planned, but I can have parts of it this year. I’ll have Jace, and today I’m taking him to cut down a tree together.

I slip quietly out of bed and go to the kitchen to start coffee. It’s not long before he stumbles into the kitchen, wearing my low-slung pajama pants and arousal flares through my veins. It’s been so damn long since I’ve felt the hot zing of need burning in my blood and making my dick hard. Not that I haven’t fucked anyone in the last ten years, but it wasn’t ever anything to write home about. It was perfunctory at best. They got to tell their friends they were fucked by a rock star, and I got to pretend for a half hour that I wasn’t broken inside. It was a win-win.

“Coffee?” Jace asks, holding his hands out for the mug I offer.

“Hope you’re not too hungover; we’re going on an adventure.”

“Okay there, Bilbo Baggins.”

“Seriously, smartass,” I prompt. “After coffee, go home and dress warm.”

“Linc, I’m not awake enough for games, can you just tell me what you’re up to?”

“Ugh, you are infuriating,” I complain without venom, because for ten years all I’ve wanted was petty arguments with the only man I’ve ever loved. “It’s not a game, it’s a surprise.”

“Fine, but I need this coffee before I go out in the frozen tundra on whatever half-cocked adventure you’ve cooked up.”

“I assure you, it’ll be fully cocked.”

Jace tries not to laugh, but I catch a chuckle hiding behind his coffee cup.

“You’re a rock star; aren’t you supposed to sleep until like two in the afternoon?”

“Yeah, and pro tip, if you snap a picture of me making you coffee you could sell it for a million dollars.”

“Seriously? God, that’s weird. How much do you think I could sell an exclusive interview for? I could tell them all about how awkward and sloppy you were the first time you went down on me.”

“You could sell that story for many millions, I’m sure. But please don’t because that’s embarrassing as hell,” I laugh.

“I guess you’ll have to be extra nice to me then.”

“I guess I will,” I agree with a smile.

“How about just one hint about where we’re going today?”

“Nope.”

 

Jace

I hate myself for the excitement fluttering in my stomach as Lincoln drives us to whatever surprise he has planned. Why does he have to be so damn sweet and thoughtful? So much for getting closure, thanks a hell of a lot Wyatt and Joel. I can only imagine how much it’s going to suck to lose Lincoln for a second time. And I will lose him again. He has to go back to his life, and I have to go back to mine. At least I’m not in love with him this time.

We pass a sign that advertises Cut Your Own Christmas Tree 1 mile, and I turn to Linc with a huge smile.

“Oh my god, are we going full Griswold Family Christmas?”

A smile creeps onto Lincoln’s face, giving away his surprise instantly. I do my best to tamp down my excitement, not wanting Lincoln to know just how perfect this idea was. But he knows me too well.

“You always wanted to cut down a Christmas tree. Did you ever get a chance to do it?”

“No. Every year I meant to, but time always seemed to get away from me. And then Amanda was allergic to the sap or something, so I’ve had fake trees the past few years.”

“Is this a good surprise?” he checks with a hint of vulnerability.

“Yeah, Linc, it’s a good surprise.” I put my hand over his, unable to feel the connection through our gloves, but enjoying it nonetheless. I am so fucked.

We reach the lot and park. Luckily, they have saws for rent because Lincoln didn’t think to bring one, and then we’re off, trudging through the snow in search of our tree.

The funny thing is, when I used to imagine our first Christmas together, I always saw us cutting down our own tree. I was right, it’s just happening a few years later than I’d planned.

We pass a bunch of full, green trees but none of them speak to me. Plus, I’m certain they’d be too big for Linc’s living room, and it really would be a full Griswold Christmas.

I stop to look at a shorter tree that might be nice when a snowball hits me in the back of the head.

“Hey!” I complain, bending down to scoop up a handful of snow to retaliate. I turn around to find Linc doubling over with laughter, and I whip my snowball right at his face.

“Oh, it’s on,” he declares.

The snowballs fly between us as we laugh and stumble through the shin deep snow. I don’t even see it coming when Linc tackles me into a snow drift.

I’m laughing so hard my stomach hurts, but when I look up at Linc hovering over me, the air feels like it’s punched out of my lungs, and I fall silent.

His dark brown eyes bore into me with an intensity only Lincoln has ever been able to pull off. I think that was one of the first things I fell in love with about him. No one looks at you the way he does, like he truly sees all the way to your soul.

He leans closer, just a fraction, and my gaze zeros in on his lips, beckoning me, waiting to ensnare me.

“Linc,” I say in a panic, shoving at his chest to get him off me before I can do something epically stupid.

He blinks in surprise and sits back, offering an apologetic smile.

“Let’s get that tree,” I point at the one I’d been looking at before the impromptu snowball fight.

“Sounds good,” he agrees with a forced smile.

 

Cutting down the tree includes a lot of cursing, but we manage to get it done eventually. Carrying it back to the entrance goes about the same as cutting it down went, but when I see it strapped to the roof of the car, I feel a sense of accomplishment.

“I’m kind of surprised we pulled that off,” I say, brushing pine needles off my coat.

“Surprised?”

“Yeah, call me crazy but neither of us are exactly the height of macho. I wasn’t confident that a nerd who spends his days in a science lab, and an artist whose only calluses are from playing guitar could manage to cut down a tree and carry it half a mile.”

“Fair enough, but we did pull it off. It’s because we make a good team, Freckles.”

My heart flutters at his declaration, and for a second, I almost lean close and brush a kiss to his chin like I always did when we were teens. It feels right. Everything inside me is tired of resisting Linc, even if my brain keeps shouting very valid reasons to keep my distance.

“That’ll be thirty-five dollars,” the attendant tells us, snapping me out of my momentary insanity.

Lincoln pulls out his wallet and pays and then we head back to the cabin.

Getting it set up inside is another adventure, our hands getting covered in sap as we try to get it to stand up straight in the tree stand.

“Do you have decorations or anything?” I ask once the tree is standing upright.

“As a matter of fact, I do. I have decorations, and I also have hot cocoa and ingredients for sugar cookies.”

“Linc,” I say his name softly. He planned the perfect Christmas for us. It’s the first real Christmas I’ve had since my parents died.

“Come on, let’s start a fire, and then we’ll make hot cocoa and decorate the tree.”

“Okay, but only if we put on Christmas music.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal.”

 

 

Lincoln

The fire crackles merrily in the fireplace, and the Trans-Siberian Orchestra’s version of the “Christmas Canon” is playing from my phone.

“You’re concentrating the tinsel too much in one location,” Jace scolds, picking up the clump I just laid on a branch and spreading it into smaller pieces. “It’s just supposed to be a little bit here and there to catch the light and make the tree shimmer.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I haven’t been properly trained in Christmas tree decoration etiquette.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll get you up to speed.” Jace winks, and my heart feels too big for my chest.

“Thank you for having Christmas with me,” I say quietly, mesmerized by the way the twinkling lights on the tree dance across his skin.

“Not like you gave me much choice. I’m pretty sure if I’d refused you would’ve showed up at my place with the tree and those damn puppy dog eyes you know I can’t say no to.”

“Very true,” I agree with a smile. “I’ve never had a nice Christmas like this. You know how it was for me growing up, and the last ten years we’ve either been on the road or I’ve been all alone in my big, empty penthouse.”

“I’m sorry, Linc,” Jace says, reaching for my hand and giving it a sympathetic squeeze.

“Don’t be sorry; you’re giving me the best Christmas ever.”

“In that case, I expect an amazing gift,” he teases.

A gift. Of course, Jace deserves an incredible Christmas present. Since he agreed to spend Christmas with me, I’ve been trying to think of the perfect thing to get him, but everything seems empty. I could afford to get him just about anything in the world, but Jace doesn’t care about things. I need to give him something that means something. And I only have one more day to figure that something out. This is my chance to make a gesture, to show him how serious I am about wanting a second chance.

With the last ornament placed, we take a step back, and Jace proclaims it perfect.

“Cookie time,” I declare, grabbing Jace’s hand and dragging him to the kitchen. “I hope you know how to bake cookies?” I ask, pulling out the ingredients I picked up based off a recipe I found online.

“Yes, I know how to bake cookies,” he assures me, pulling out a bowl and pre-heating the oven. “My mom taught me. We always baked Christmas cookies together.” His voice is sad, and I refuse to resist pulling him into my arms to comfort him.

Jace stiffens at first as I hold him to my chest, but after a few seconds he relaxes, burying his nose in the crook of my neck and melting against me.

“I’m sorry about your parents. They were really great people.”

He nods in agreement, and I rub circles on his back to soothe him.

“Okay, cookies,” he says, pushing me away after a minute or so. He walks me through each step until we have two pans full of cookies shaped like snowflakes and Christmas trees—courtesy of cookie cutters I grabbed at the store yesterday—ready to be baked.

We burn the first batch, but the second comes out perfect, and we just slather extra frosting on the burnt cookies so they’re still edible. Then, we curl up on the couch in front of the fire and devour the cookies, Jace sharing stories of Christmases past.

When the fire starts dying down, I look at the time and realize it’s just after midnight.

“Merry Christmas, Freckles,” I say, testing my luck and brushing a kiss to his cheek.

“Merry Christmas, Linc.” he says back, wrapping his arms around my neck and hugging me tight. “I’d better get home. I’ll see you in the morning?”

I want to tell him to stay. He already agreed to spend Christmas together tomorrow, and we shared a bed last night. What difference could one more night make? But there’s a wariness in his eyes I decide not to press. Rushing Jace will never get me anywhere.

“Sleep well.”

“You too.” There’s a lingering look I’m sure means something, before Jace turns and slips his boots and coat back on. I’m not sure if I’m grateful he was able to get someone out on Christmas Eve to fix his heater or not. I watch out the back window as he trudges through the snow back to his place, and I continue to stand there long after his door has closed and his lights shut off.