Page 137 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
Will he take her lips like he’s been desperately craving?
Cole, Connor, Snow Daddy, which man will he be?
Guess we should sit back and just wait and see.
“That was an unnecessary addition in the middle of this scene.”
Narrator: Not sure you should be critiquing me when I’ve set the mood for you. I have no problem giving you a wonky willy and sending you on your way.
“I’m just saying the ‘Cole, Connor, Snow Daddy’ thing makes no sense. I don’t see how they differ.”
Narrator: Cole is just regular you. Connor is the forgotten man. And Snow Daddy is the one with the pelvic thrust that made her “wetter and wetter.” Do you not remember chapter twelve?
“I’m still trying to figure out where the hell you’re coming from.”
Narrator: It will be to your benefit to mind your own business. Now, I believe I was setting the mood…
The logs on the fire have turned to embers, the lights from the Christmas tree are just dim enough to cast a hazy glow across the living room, and the scent of freshly chopped pine fills the air.
Storee has leaned into me as we stare at the embers, and I feel a sense of immense comfort. If you would have said a couple of weeks ago that I’d find comfort in decorating for Christmas, I would have said you were insane. But now that I’ve put some things out, I feel…at home.
Funny to say, since thisismy home, but it finally all feels right. And yes, I only decorated the living room, and minimally at that, because baby steps are important, but it has created a sense of joy, of peace, like this weight I’ve been carrying around has finally been lifted and I can see the light at the end of the tunnel. It really comes down to the fact that Storee is here. Once one of my childhood friends, back at just the right time. And perhaps only for a season. Literally.
“So, what’s your favorite Lovemark movie?” I ask her.
“Tough question.” She shifts, and I wrap my arm around her, resting my palm on her hip. “Hmm, there are so many good ones,andsome really terrible ones.” I chuckle. “And some okay ones, but if I have to pick, there’s a series of movies that was filmed in this town called Port Snow, up in Maine. They revolved around some of the real-life love stories in town. The casting was great, and the storylines were wonderful. And because I was editing the series, I was lucky enough to fly out there at one point when they were filming the third movie in the series and got to experience the town itself. I went to this fudge shop called the Lobster Landing and, well…it was really nice.”
“Nicer than here?” I ask.
“Different vibe,” she replies. “Port Snow is a coastal town, whereas this is a mountain town that spends every day living in Santa’s underpants.”
“Santa’s underpants?” I laugh out loud. “Well, fuck, if we were living in Bob Krampus’s tighty-whities, you can bet your pretty face I would not still be living here.”
“You wouldn’t?” she asks. “You wouldn’t want to jingle his bells?”
“Jesus, no!” I shout, making her laugh. “I honestly feel sick to my stomach even thinking about it.”
“Poor Bob Krampus.”
I lift away from her and look her in the eye. “Poor Bob Krampus? No, poor us. Who knows what kind of sweating, chafing, and moisture collecting happens down there.”
“Ew, don’t say ‘moisture collecting.’”
“You’re the one who brought it up. You didn’t have to say ‘Santa’s underpants.’”
“It was the only thing I could think of.”
“Disturbing,” I say as I decide to rest on the carpet and give my back a rest. To my surprise, she leans across my stomach and stares down at me. “What do you think you’re doing?” I ask her.
“Getting comfortable,” she replies and then smoothes her hand up my chest.
“Seems like you enjoy getting comfortable and using my body for that.”
“Trust me, Cole, if I were using your body, you would know.”
I chuckle and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. I stare up at her and smile. “Why didn’t we cross this line before?”
“What line?”
