Page 104 of Backlash

I shake my head, trying to clear my brain, which is as blurry as the swirling snowfall outside the window. In the end, I’m forced to close my eyes to regain control of myself.

“Christmas tree,” I say. “Where’s the Christmas tree?”

“In Central Park,” he says.

The spell is broken, and I’m able to look at him again, careful to keep my eyes above shoulder level. “Your Christmas tree?”

“We don’t do that,” he says.

“You… what?”

“Francie almost always works Christmas. No one else wants to,” he says. “What’s the point of putting up a tree for like five minutes?”

My own family always put up a tree despite leaving for vacation on Christmas morning. I can’t understand not having one. “It’s tradition.”

“We can decorate her cactus,” he suggests pointing to the small potted plant on the window.

“Well, I know what we’re doing today,” I say.

“Lucky…”

“Nope.” I cross to him and wrap my arms around my waist. “You’ve been all of my firsts, Sterling Ford. Let me be your first Christmas morning.”

“Do I get to unwrap you?” he asks, his hand sliding around to grope my rear.

“Again?”

“Well, I could have sworn I already did it, but here’s my present all covered up again.”

“Get dressed,” I order him with a swift kiss. “I want to go out in the snow, and then we can get a tree and…”

“Okay, slow down.” He drops the envelopes on the counter, but his eyes linger on them. I see one from Valmont on top.

“Is everything okay?”

“Bills,” he says tightly. “Looks like my scholarship didn’t cover everything.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“It’s nothing for you to worry about. I’ll talk with Francie. I just wish she’d told me. I should have been working this semester.”

“You were going to school,” I remind him.

A muscle twitches in his jaw, and his response is so even that I know he’s calibrating it carefully. “Not everyone has the luxury of being a full-time student. It’s not a big deal. I can find something on campus to help out.”

He kisses me and dashes upstairs to get dressed. I stare at the envelope, fighting the urge to open it and see how much he owes. It would be easy for me to pay it off. I could even sweet talk someone in the administration to send me future bills by dropping my last name. Then, he wouldn’t have to worry, and Francie wouldn’t have to take holiday shifts. But if he ever found out…

The bill is still on the counter, untouched, and I’m finishing a cup of coffee when Sterling appears downstairs, fully dressed.

“Okay, show me how this Christmas thing is done, Lucky.”

We head into the snow in search of a Christmas tree lot, but I can’t quit thinking about that bill and wondering what to do about it.

The lot closest to Sterling’s is already closed, and we have to go another block to find one with a few trees left. All of them are scraggly, scrawny pines that look like they’ve lost half their needles.

“I can see why you want one of these,” Sterling says dryly. “Aren’t these a fire hazard?”

I study the tree he’s pointing to and am forced to agree he’s right. It’s clearly dead.