Tess Navarra is a woman on a Christmas mission, and I am firmly in her clutches. I've begged, I've bargained, but she refuses to be swayed.
I'm currently backed into a corner of an adorable bakery draped in gauzy fake snow and cheerful twinkling fairy lights, pinned there by the force of her glare. She presses her lips together into a thin line and stares me down.
"Ezra, you knew my opinion on this when you texted me this morning. I'm not sure why you thought it would change in the last..." She checks her watch. “Six hours?”
"Because your opinion is stupid and I hate it," I say with absolutely no whining in my voice. I pull my coat tighter around my thin frame, my shoulders rounded in what is definitely not a petulant sulk, and shove past her, out the door, into the chilled evening air. Tess jogs after me, blinking against the flurries of fine snowflakes that land in her eyelashes. As soon as she catches up, I try another tactic.
"How about a—"
She cuts me off. "No. Unless you're going to say a kiss, a card that includes the words 'I'm in love with you,' or you're planning to put a bow around your own dick—"
"Oh my god, you are the most mortifying human—"
She barrels on, completely ignoring the glare of a passing middle-aged man in an unfortunate scarf. "If it's not one of those things, then Jack doesn't want it, and I don't want to hear it."
I scowl. She makes it sound so easy. Like Jack and I don't have years of baggage working against us. We met in our freshman year of college when we were in the same core requirement history class. We started living together our sophomore year, then got a place off campus our senior year and just... stayed there. We have all the same friends. We've traveled together, spent holidays with each other’s families... and I've been in love with him the whole time.
Well, probably. There were a few years there in the beginning where I swore we were just really great friends. Best friends, the kind you have for life. In hindsight, though... I'm pretty sure it's always been more than that.
I just didn't realize it until Jack started dating the woman that would become his wife.
If we really were just best friends, then being the best man at his wedding would have been one of the highlights of our friendship. Instead, the day he asked me was one of the worst I've ever had. The whole experience left me sick. It was right after one of our biggest almost moments, too, the night of Jack’s twenty-seventh birthday, when we’d had way too much whiskey and I nearly fucked up our entire friendship.
I guess in the back of my mind, I thought we would always be together. Even throughout the whole wedding preparation year, I kept thinking... this will all go away. Something will happen, the wedding will get called off, and everything will go back to normal. I always thought... eventually, it'll just happen. We'll get there.
We didn't get there. Jack married Hannah four years ago. He moved out, and I stayed. We were still best friends, but he had a wife. Things were different.
Then they split up six months ago, though Jack was uncharacteristically vague on the 'why' of it. He moved back in a few months later. And now, everything is almost back to normal.
Almost.
"Look, Tess," I say, struggling to master my temper. "I’m not going to turn Christmas morning into some kind of grand romantic gesture. Especially not while hosting my parents. And you’re one to talk. You’ve been mooning over Imani’s sister for the last year. Why do you have to keep picking at this?"
"Because, Ezra—"
She snags me by the crook of my arm and tugs me to a halt. The grumbling, holiday-rushed crowd pushes us against the wall of yet another glittering shop, this one full of toys and delicate ornaments and a thousand other things I study intently instead of meeting Tess's gaze.
"Because you've been through enough," she says, her voice low and gentle. "The both of you have been through so much, and it's time to just be happy, okay?"
My throat goes thick, and I blink hard until the lights through the shop window lose their blur.
“It’s not like I’ve just been waiting around. I’ve dated. I have a job I love, and a seat in the orchestra—"
She cuts me off.
"It's time, Ez. You asked for my help, and I'm giving it. Let yourself be happy." She runs a comforting hand down my arm, then takes a deep breath and steps back. "Now, why don't we—"
I slip away before she can finish that sentence, already halfway across the street before she starts to follow. The light changes, and she gets stuck on the other side of the crosswalk while I disappear into the craft beer and wine shop I spotted in the reflection of the window. I have an idea. Maybe it's a stupid one... but it's the only idea I've had all day. It's worth a shot.
I must give off helpless vibes, because seconds after I stop in the middle of the store, a woman with a kind smile approaches me.
"Shopping for a gift?" she asks.
"How could you tell?"
She shrugs, eyebrows raised. "Just a lucky guess. Who's it for?"
"It's, uh..."
This question shouldn't be hard. It's for my roommate? It's for my best friend? It's for... the man I've been in love with for my entire adult life? I don't know how to answer without spilling way more than this poor woman asked for. She seems to sense my internal angst and comes to my rescue, thankfully.
"Is it for someone... special?" she asks delicately.
My cheeks go hot, and I look away, sure it's written all over my face.
"Possibly," I say, then immediately have to fight the urge to run away. Before I can flee, the woman's smile deepens. She waves for me to follow her.
"I think I know just the thing," she says as we weave through aisles of craft and imported beer toward the wine section. "Do they like red wine?"
"He does," I say, and the urge to flee overtakes me again as soon as I realize that I've just come out to this random stranger, which shouldn't be a big deal but always feels like it. She doesn't react at all, though, just scans a rack of red wines and gently withdraws a bottle with a quiet 'ah hah!'
"This merlot is deep and rich,” she says, angling the bottle for my inspection. “Beautifully seductive color, full-bodied flavor, very warming. It's a fantastic wine for a special occasion, or... a night in."
The flush spreads from my cheeks to the tips of my now burning ears, but I nod, a vision of Christmas possibilities unfolding in my mind. This wine, the right atmosphere, a touch of bravery, and maybe…
"I'll take two," I say, once my throat lets me.
Tess sidles up and bumps her shoulder against mine, having finally caught up. She nods at the wine.
"Good choice.”
I slide my card across the checkout counter and can't help the tiny, private smile that curls at the corner of my mouth.
"We'll see," I say.
The snow is falling in earnest by the time we get home from our shopping trip, my cheeks wind-burned and my hair dusted with fine powdery flakes. Tess and I chat on our shared front porch for a moment, then head for our respective doors. Jack and I have been renting this same duplex since college, and when our terrible previous neighbors moved out we begged Tess to apply to rent the other unit. One good word to the landlord later, and she was in. Good thing, too, because it made things at least slightly less desolate when Jack moved out.
I unlock the door, and a warm, sweet scent immediately fills my senses. What is that? Chocolate? As soon as I step inside, I see him. Jack, standing in front of the stove, stirring a pot with a wooden spoon and humming quietly to himself. My heart gives a painful contraction at the sight of him, so perfectly at home here, as much a part of this place as the walls. Some part of me is still expecting him to leave again, to come home one day and find it empty and quiet.
But he’s here.
"Welcome home," Jack says in that warm southern drawl of his. He doesn't look up, intent on whatever his project of the day is—the man can never just sit still and relax for an afternoon. I should reply. Thanks, or hello, or something.
Instead, I flee into my bedroom, darting past Jack with something like guilt or embarrassment twisting in my stomach. I practically slam the door behind me and shove the wine under my bed like a porn magazine hidden from a parent.
What am I doing?
I slump onto the floor next to the bed, forearms propped on my knees, waiting for my heart to stop trying to break out and fly away. Somehow, having the wine in the same physical location as Jack makes the reality of giving it to him, drinking it with him, so much more immediate.
Honestly, there’s probably nothing to worry about. It's wine. Jack will drink it and completely fail to understand the significance. He'll be a little confused, but he'll say thank you, compliment the wine's characteristics, appreciate its color without ever applying the word seductive like the woman in the shop did.
Things will continue as they always have.
I'll want him. Jack will be oblivious.
Fine.
But... agh. Tess's words are like a nagging fly I can't shake. On our walk home, I actually tried to backpedal and make her take the wine. The look she gave me was so fierce I thought she might eat my face off.
"Look, I understand that before he got married, you had lots of reasons to doubt,” she’d said. “But I just don't understand what you're so afraid of now."
I'd barked a harsh laugh right in her face, shaking my head.
"How am I not supposed to be afraid? I could lose my best friend. Again."
"You're not going to lose him, Ez. He's a sure bet. You have nothing to worry about."
"So everyone keeps telling me. Everyone thinks they know. But do they really? How sure are all of you?" I'd had to pause and rein myself in, hearing the ragged edge of hysteria in my voice. "No, I think it's a lost cause. If he wanted me, I'd know by now. I need to let this go. Jack isn't interested in me like that."
"Then why did he come running right back to you as soon as his marriage was over?"
"He's only been back for three months. They've been broken up for six."
Tess had hesitated for a moment then, setting off alarm bells in my brain. But she’d continued.
"He wanted to come straight back to you. But he didn't want you to feel like he was only coming back because he had nowhere else to go. He wanted you to know he was choosing to live with you again because it's what he wanted."
If only I could believe that.
"I think you're reading too much into the situation."
"It's literally what he told me. I'm not 'reading into' anything."
"But he never told me that."
"Because you are two thirty-something men who can't figure out how to talk about feelings. At some point, Ez, you're going to have to open your mouth and say words, and I can't help you with that."
I was grumpy and silent the rest of the way home, digesting that bit of info. Against my better judgment… it does give me a bit of hope.
And yet, here I am, sitting on my bedroom floor and running a thousand scenarios through the logical machinery of my brain. As always, I’m getting nowhere. It’s been a lifelong problem; I’m either thinking with my math brain or I’m drowning in my feelings. It even came out in my choice of college majors. I majored in math but minored in music because I couldn’t bear to put down the flute entirely. Everyone always said, ‘oh, yeah, there’s so much math in music!’
But they don’t understand. To me… I just can’t integrate them. They’re wholly separate parts of me that can’t seem to take possession of my body at the same time. Even now, I have a day job running probability models and managing statistics for a climate nonprofit. But I have a seat in the community orchestra, too.
Logic and feelings. And I can’t make myself accept logic where Jack is concerned, so my feelings just… overwhelm me.
Maybe I need more opinions here. Tess is too close to the situation. Maybe a different friend. I pull one of the wine bottles back out, snap a picture of it, then send it along with a text to one of the only people who might understand what I’m struggling with. Our friend Oliver is a genius scientist who finally just got together with his boyfriend, Chris, after years of pining. Maybe he’ll have some insight.
Ezra: Is this a terrible idea? Too obvious?
Oliver: Not obvious enough
Oliver: Get out a sharpie and write I FUCKING LOVE YOU on the label and you'll be halfway there.
Ezra: Shit, if that's halfway then what's all the way??
Ezra: Never mind, please don't answer that
Oliver: Look, I know it’s terrifying
Oliver: But it’s worth it
Oliver: Trust me
Ugh, smug bastard. He’s been like this ever since they got together. The sex must be really good.
Ezra: Easy for you to say. Chris did the wooing. All you had to do was be wooed.
Oliver: Wooed? What are we, 16th-century ladies of the court?
Ezra: I regret texting you
Oliver: Most people do
Oliver: But look, I DO know what it’s like to not trust what your eyes are seeing
Oliver: And to be too afraid to hope that it might be true
Oliver: But you have to trust Jack, and trust the rest of us
Oliver: It’s going to happen. You just have to say something.
Ugh. It’s Tess all over again. I close my eyes and lean my head back against the bed, letting the tide of my feelings carry me out to sea. Jack. What am I going to do? Can I really go through with this?
A knock on the bedroom door startles me from my thoughts.
"Ez? You okay? Are you busy?"
Shit.
I shove the wine back under the bed and scramble to my feet, schooling my features into something less obvious, then crack the door open. A hand holding a cheery red mug pushes through.
"Come on," Jack sings, waggling the mug as much as he can without spilling. "Come join me. I built a fire in the fireplace, and I just made real hot chocolate from scratch. Try some."
My throat constricts at the sight of Jack's warm, crinkled smile, so all I can do is nod and take the mug, following him out into our living room. Jack picks up his own mug and goes to stand by one of the big windows overlooking the road. After a moment of hesitation, I join him. I'm careful to place myself a comfortable distance away, but Jack ignores it and shifts closer until our arms brush with each sip of hot chocolate. Outside, the fine powdery snow shifts to fat, wet flakes, falling in a thick rain over the dusted streets.
"Beautiful, right?" Jack asks. "I wonder if we'll get snow like this for Christmas."
He turns to me, as if I could possibly provide the answer to such an impossible, changeable thing... and my gaze falls to his lips. My mind automatically maps out the motions needed to bring our mouths together, the possible actions and reactions, the—
I drag my eyes back up to Jack's, finding them soft and glowing with something. And I think of the wine. Of that full-bodied flavor on Jack's mouth, of seductive red, warmth in my belly, first kisses, and laying Jack down in front of the fire while a winter wonderland swirls outside our window.
I take in a shuddering breath and lean away from Jack, bracing my forearm against the window. A topic of conversation, something to distract, anything, what can I say...
"My parents want to stay here for Christmas," I blurt, knowing the surprise of it will knock Jack off balance. I wasn't planning to bring this up until later, but needs must. “Instead of a hotel. They want a ‘cozy Christmas at home.’”
Jack predictably flounders, his mouth gaping open for a long moment. "What, here as in our house? Where will they..."
Jack pauses, his face shadowed with disappointment and hurt. "I guess I can call my sister, see if I can spend Christmas Day with them so your parents can stay in my room and—"
"No," I interrupt, half-panicked. "Stay. Please. They want to see you, too. I already talked to Tess and she’s going to let them sleep there while she’s out of town. Please stay here."
Okay, I’m practically begging now. Does this count as talking about feelings? I feel like I should get credit for this. Regardless, I catch the quirk of a small smile at the corner of Jack's mouth.
"All right, Ez. I'll stay, if you're sure you want me to."
Ha. As if we don’t all already know that I want him around at all times. I think back to the wine bottles hidden away under my bed and swallow hard, the anticipation of merlot on my tongue.
"Yeah. I really do."
