“Good night, Gideon,” she whispers.
And for the first time all year, I fall asleep immediately.
Chapter 16
Gideon
Day 10: Sensual Massage & Christmas Movies
When I wake with my arms wrapped around Valencia and her hair in my face, it’s the most rested I’ve felt in a long time. We eat gingerbread cookies for breakfast and add a splash of coquito to our coffee and tea. Then we engage in a little midmorning sensual massage, which culminates in easy, languid lovemaking. It’s different from yesterday, but just as perfect. I hold her for a long time afterward.
After we clean up, I pull out two pairs of matching red and green plaid pajamas—necessary attire for a lazy morningwatching classic Christmas movies. I don’t think I imagine that Valencia is a little misty-eyed when we put them on.
We can’t decide what to watch, so we write movie titles on slips of paper and toss them into a mixing bowl. Valencia selects one with a flourish.
Home Alone.
We snuggle on my big leather sofa with our feet resting on the coffee table and the fireplace flickering merrily under the wall-mounted flat-screen TV. Valencia falls asleep halfway through the movie with her head on my shoulder, drooling a little on my pajama shirt. I’m hit with a pang of contentment so pervasive it makes my chest ache.
I look around my apartment, taking in the massive tree decorated with blinking white lights, a mixed assortment of garlands, and glass ornaments. There’s a red velvet runner across the coffee table, a wreath hanging on the apartment door, and a sprig of mistletoe over the kitchen doorway. Every time we pass under it, we stop and kiss.
Valencia’s brought so much into my life. Color and sparkle, sweetness and spice, companionship and cuddles. She’s brightened my world, the way the trappings of the holiday season, commercial though they may be, enliven the darkest and coldest time of the year. What the hell am I going to do without her, when all I have left in front of me are the cold gray days of winter in New York?
The truth is, I’ve never wanted anything more than I want to be with her. To have her here, in my arms and in my home, for the rest of this month and all the months—years?—that come after.
But what doesshewant?
Does she wantme?
My phone buzzes with an incoming call. It’s my mother. She’s arriving in two days, so I should answer.
Carefully, I slide out from under the blanket and position Valencia so she’s lying down. She makes an adorable hum and curls up in the warm spot I’ve vacated. I smile down at her for a second, then stride into my bedroom to accept the call.
“Mom?”
“Bonjour, mon amour.”
I switch to French.“Tout va bien?”
“Oui, oui,” she says airily, and then her tone changes. “However, there is a change of plans. You will come here for Christmas. To Paris.”
I halt my pacing. “But you’re supposed to come to New York.”
“Ah, Gideon. It’s so much better here. Take a flight tomorrow and come join me.”
Tomorrow? I have two days left with Valencia. “Mom, I can’t leave yet.”
“Are you working?”
“No, but—”
“Then come to Paris.” She says it as if it’s as simple as running to the store for a carton of milk.
“I have plans,” I blurt out. “On Christmas Eve.”
Her tone sharpens ever so slightly. “Well, cancel them and come see your mother.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I have to go, Mom. I’ll call you later.”
