things. I got a beautiful sterling silver frame for Nix and Emily, so they could put a wedding photo in it, and a crystal wine chiller for Nick and Nora. Finally, I bought a box of cigars for George and some perfume for Fil. The Caldwell’s gifts will have to wait until they get back from St. John but I plan on sending Fil and George’s over to them in the next few days.
Opening my closet, I pull out Flynn’s gift. I wrapped it the other day and I’m so nervous about giving it to him. I wanted something that would let him know how much he means to me, but without it being too intimate. Because at this point, I really want Flynn but I’m still too chicken to take the dive.
When he was dating Jennifer, I sort of came to a realization. There will eventually be a woman in Flynn’s life. He is too good of a man for there not to be. Now, my big fear of involving myself with Flynn is that I will get crushed if it doesn’t work out and I will probably lose my friendship with him.
However, I saw while he was dating, that if another woman is in his life, I’m going to lose him anyway to a certain extent. He is not going to be able to spend the time with me that he does, and the even bigger risk is that his new love probably would not want him having a close female friend. So, it seems I’m probably damned either way.
Now I find myself debating the best way to have Flynn Caldwell in my life, with the least amount of risk to myself. But most importantly, I also have to figure out how to do this without hurting Flynn. Because even though I’m afraid of getting hurt myself, it’s becoming more important to me that he remain unscathed.
“We’re back,” Flynn yells and I bring his gift out with me.
“I ordered the Chinese. It should be here in about half an hour.”
Flynn looks pointedly at the present in my hand. “What’s that?”
“It’s your gift,” I tell him, setting it on the coffee table. Capone nudges it and gives it a sniff. “Don’t even think about it, Capone,” I give him a warning. He doesn’t even look abashed and nudges it again, but then he loses interest.
“Can I open it now?” Flynn asks, his eyes lit up like a five-year-old.
“No. We have to decorate first, then eat, and then presents.”
“Why does it have to be in that order?” he sulks.
“Because... I just decided to make that rule. Besides... the anticipation is what makes it great, right?”
Flynn’s childish and goofy grin melts away and a smirk replaces it. “Anticipation can also kill you, too.”
I snort over that comment, because I know exactly what he’s talking about.
We’re able to decorate the apartment by the time the food arrives. It wasn’t like it was a massive undertaking though. We basically bought some cheerful, colored lights and hung them around the living room windows. He strung tinsel across the mantle of the fireplace, which has been broken the entire time Flynn has lived here. And we lit some Cinnamon-Apple candles, turning the lights down low so the room just glowed from the lights and wavering flames.
Flynn and I ate our Chinese food on the floor, both using the chopsticks. “This reminds me of
I start laughing and point my sticks at him. “It does! Where at the end they eat Christmas dinner at a Chinese restaurant.”
“Yup. That’s a great movie. We should see if it’s on TV and watch it tonight.”
“That would be fun,” I agree, taking my last scoop of rice. I’m stuffed and can’t hold anymore, even though I only ate about half of it.
Pushing my container away, I watch Flynn polish his food all the way off, even grabbing my container and eating some of mine. When he’s finished, he lies back on the floor and groans. “I’m dying. That was way too much food.”
“It’s not like someone forced you to eat all that.”
“I know, I know. I got carried away.”
With Flynn lying on his back, the hem of his shirt inches up and I see a small strip of skin above his jeans. It glows golden in the flickering lights and I have a hard time pulling my eyes away from the thin patch of dark hair that is disappearing under the waistband. My eyes do finally move and travel upward. He’s wearing a V-neck, black sweater and I can still see the two burns marks peeking out. They’ve healed well, with only a slight reddening of the skin remaining, and he swears they don’t hurt anymore. Flynn was only out of work for a week, although he had to spend another week on light duty. Just about the time he got released to full duty, his vacation started, so I think he’s getting a little restless. Flynn is definitely not the type that likes to sit around and do nothing.
“Do you want to open presents?” I ask.
Flynn raises his head from the floor and cracks one eye open at me. “Does Chinese food make you want to barf if you eat too much?”
“I don’t know, does it?”
Sitting up with a groan, Flynn says, “Hell yeah, it does, but I’ll get over it. So let’s get this party going.”
Standing up, I walk into the kitchen. “I got a surprise. Stay there.”
When I return, I’m holding a chilled bottle of champagne and two flutes. Flynn looks at me with interest.
“What you got there?”
Holding my implements up, I say, “I figure we could celebrate Christmas and also do a toast to Nix and Emily.”
Flynn hops up from the ground and takes the bottle from me. He deftly removes the foil and wire cage from the cork and, holding it to the side and angled away from me, he easily pops it open. I hold the flutes out and he pours us each a glass before setting the bottle on the coffee table.
Holding my glass up, I say, “Merry Christmas, Flynn. I can never thank you for all you’ve done for me. And here’s wishing Nix and Emily a beautiful Christmas wedding.”
Flynn taps his flute against mine and we both raise our glasses, staring at each other while we sip. Even after our glasses lower, I still can’t tear my eyes from his and I love how the hazel color gleams under the Christmas lights, causing sparkles to appear.
Flynn finally breaks away and sets his glass down. He smacks his palms together and then briskly rubs them back and forth. “I want presents. Now. Now. Now.”
Laughing, I set my glass down and then pick up my present from the coffee table. We both sit down on the couch, side by side, with only an inch of space between us. I hand the gift over with a qualification. “It’s not much. I hope you don’t think it’s too lame.”
Flynn shakes the small box near his ear, trying to harbor a guess as to what it holds. He then sets it in his lap and tears into the paper, revealing a brown box underneath that is taped shut. He picks at the edges of the tape, and rips it back. Peeling the flaps away, he reaches inside and pulls his gift out. It’s wrapped in tissue paper, which he easily removes, and then he holds it up before him.
It’s a brown leather journal and has embossed on the front, “The Story of Me”. Flynn reaches over to his right and flips on the table lamp so he can see it better. He shoots a curious glance at me but I don’t say anything.
I watch as he opens the cover and reads the words out loud I had written just this morning.
With a smile on his face, Flynn takes his fingertip and strokes it gently over my name.
I lean in closer to him and turn to the first page of the book. It reads,
