by kj lewis
“Zinnie come here.” I pat the space next to me. “You two are mine. You belong to me, and I will do whatever it takes to show you. You are the most important people in my life. Understand?”
Poppy shakes her head and Zinnie reaches for my hand.
“Trust me when I tell you I would never let anything hurt you. Most of all when it comes to your parents.”
We shouldn’t have talked about it in front of Poppy, but I don’t want Zinnie to feel like she has to censor how she is feeling. I look up to find that Finn and Sam have quietly left the room, leaving me with the girls.
“Finish your studying.” I kiss Zinnie and send her on her way. I lie down with Poppy.
When I wake, it’s four in the morning and the lights are all dimmed. Sam must feel confident about the changes to her presentation because even she is in bed. I lift the covers and slide in next to her. She curls up against me. We have a couple of hours before the girls are going to be awake, and even though I think we both want sex, we’re a little too tired to make it happen. It occurs to me that we have yet to spend a full night together.
“It was selfish of me to tell Zinnie she should forgive him,” she says.
“Zinnie can’t walk around with hatred in her heart. It will eat away at her until she is no longer recognizable.”
“Like me,” she whispers.
I sit up on my elbows and take her face in my hands. “I see you, Sam.” You aren’t unrecognizable to me.” I kiss her with every ounce of love I feel for her before telling her. “I love you.”
Tears fall down her face as she shakes her head back and forth.
“I want that more than anything, Walt. But you can’t.”
“It’s like I told Zinnie in the weeks after her parent’s death: It’s okay for her to laugh and live her life. I’m so sorry you lost your family, Sam, but you deserve to be happy.”
“And what about you? Have your forgiven him? For taking Everett? Is that a struggle for you?”
Of course, Sam would see what I wrestle with most. “My joy is those girls and it came at the cost of my best friend. I…I’m still working on processing that. I just know I can’t overthink it. The girls need me.”
“I am so proud of the man you are.” She kisses me, and her words are like a salve to my soul.
“I need to talk to Zinnie about the man who killed her parents.”
“I think the counselor is working with her to forgive him.” She misunderstands what I mean.
“I mean to not mention it in front of Poppy. She’s just too young to process it.”
“You’re right. I thought you were talking about forgiveness.”
“She needs that, too. For her. Honestly, I could give a fuck about this man. I wish I hadn’t allowed the plea. No amount of forgiveness can undo the havoc he wreaked on those girls.” Sam nods, and there’s sadness in her eyes.
“Now, where were we?” I lean down to kiss her, but stop when I hear Poppy cry out.
I would like to tell you it got better, but Poppy struggles every night. The therapist said it is probably an overload of emotions from vivid Christmas memories and our conversation about the other driver. Whatever it is, the only thing we can do is ride it out. Poppy is five and her coping skills will eventually help her work it out. Until then, one of us sleeps with her each night.
Sam aced her presentation. I found out from Finn, who heard it from Zoe, that Professor Blume tried again to persuade her to join him in some extracurricular activities. Sam promptly reported it to the Dean. Evidently Grace had been working on her the whole semester to report him. After Sam found out that a younger student had also been propositioned, I think she saw a pattern she could no longer ignore.
“She doesn’t need you to rescue her from every man that hits on her.” Finn tells me after I implode at the thought of that bellend putting his hands on her. I don’t say anything because my anger is teetering at an irrational level.
“Oh my God. You’re in this deep. You want to rescue her from everything, don’t you? You love her?” he asks.
I don’t answer, but he sees it in my eyes. I’ve only said it aloud to her once. It doesn’t seem right to admit it to him yet. Right now, it’s still something for only the two of us.
“Let’s go.” I stand, buttoning my suitcoat.
“Ready?” Quade enters the office doing the same.
The three of us make our way to Poppy’s school. It’s colder than I anticipated. We should have taken the car, but traffic is chaotic today and I was worried we wouldn’t make it. As it is now, I’m not sure walking is much better. The city is under siege from tourists and shoppers. I’ve never seen this many people at two in the afternoon.
Poppy is a present in the school Christmas program. Sam finished her costume last night. She cut the bottom out of a large square box before carving holes for her head and arms. I helped Poppy wrap it in her favorite Christmas paper and glue the ribbon on while Sam created a large red bow to wear on her head. Zinnie had ordered her some red-and-white-striped stockings online, and all together she is the cutest package up there. She even has a couple of lines. If she hadn’t spent every day repeating them, I probably wouldn’t have understood when she says, “Christmas is more than packages,” and “Peppermint is the mintiest of mints.”
Nonetheless, each time she says her line, it’s like a star was born. Sam threatened everyone within an inch of their lives not to cheer when she spoke, so that the kid with lines behind hers would be heard. But when Santa and all the misfit toys sing the last bar of their carol, our section explodes. We do have an entire row, after all.
Poppy happily poses for pictures, so everyone can have one with her. She is the hit of the play in our eyes.
Pierce greased some hands and was able to have a table waiting for us at the Black Tap where burgers and fries were a-plenty, and milkshakes looked like art pieces.
“Just keep your head down and don’t look,” Finn laughs at Zinnie, who is embarrassed that we are passing people who have been waiting in line for over two hours. Sometimes there are perks to traveling with Pierce.
We pass a group of carol singers on the way home, and Grace insists we stop to listen. By the time we get back to the apartment, we are frozen. Quade makes a large batch of homemade hot cocoa while the girls butter bread to dip in it.
By the time everyone leaves, we think Poppy might actually be exhausted enough to sleep by herself. I pray that’s the case. I need to be inside Sam tonight. I would give all three of my foil star wishes from my birthday, but nope. Sam sleeps with Poppy.
But there is hope. Poppy has already begged Zinnie to sleep with her on Christmas Eve. She has the whole evening planned. After they go to bed, they will watch a movie in her tent and then sneak out to catch Santa in the act. Knowing Poppy can’t stay awake ten minutes after her head hits the pillow, I know sleep won’t be an issue. Sam and I both know it’s our next best chance to have more than five minutes alone. And the naughty pictures started rolling in days ago.
Sam has decided to send me little teases every day, beginning twelve days before Christmas. A slight deviation from the original, but who am I to complain? On the top of her first naughty picture, she wrote, “On the first day of Christmas…” It was of Sam from the waist down, naked with a little cartoon partridge placed over her naughty bits. The next day, I received a text titled “On the second day…” That time, it was a picture of her naked torso with doves over her nipples.
After that, she went a little off script. I mean, what can you do for “four calling birds”, but it didn’t matter, because they got racier. I responded with a pic of my own, to which she photoshopped herself, swimmingly I might add, into the pic in such a way that it made it look like she was milking me. Then repeated it into eight squares. That has been my favorite so far.
I haven’t received today’s text yet, but the day is young, and I know Sam is busy with the girls preparing for tonight.
Tonight, is our Christmas exc
hange. I must admit, I’m looking forward to finding out who has my name. I have Grace and had the best time thinking of ways to fill her stocking. Admittedly, I had some help from my go-to personal shopper, Ms. Smith. Also, I’ve been trying to pay attention to things she enjoys. Like, I noticed that when she comes over, she dips her pretzels into the chocolate Nutella jar Sam keeps in the cupboard. Ms. Smith was able to get a dozen pretzel rods dipped in chocolate with edible gold from the confectioner in England that we grew up fancying.
Sam had posted a picture on Instagram of Grace and the girls that I had printed and framed. It’s small enough to fit into her stocking. I got her a few other trinkets, but the gift I think she will love the most is the emerald earrings the exact color of her eyes.
“Let’s call it a day,” Finn says, entering my office. “I instructed the last group to wrap it up.”
“I just need to send a couple of emails.”
“Fine. Then let’s have lunch with Quade. After, I have one more errand I want to run.”
“That’s right. You have to pick up your last gift for Pierce.”
“Really? Again? No matter whose name you throw into that sentence, I’m not going to tell you who I have.”
“He has Zoe,” Quade enters.
“That’s not going to work for you either.”
The afternoon flies by, but before I arrive back to the apartment, I have my tenth picture. Fuck me, Samantha. Does she not understand how difficult it is to shop with a hard on? I show her as much, popping into a dressing closet in Saks to text a side view of my tented trousers, clearly displaying my discomfort.
There’s laughter when I exit the lift to my home. People are already trickling in. The mood is cheerful and Christmas music plays in the background. The squad has been here for a few hours it seems. Zinnie and Poppy have been out of school for several days now.
“Look.” Poppy pulls me into the kitchen to show me that she has been sprinkling sugar on cookies. It’s easy to pick out her masterpieces: the sugar amount is double what’s on the others.
“Sam, could you help me for a moment?” I ask casually.
“No telling,” Charlotte yells from her end of the table. She and Zinnie are rolling some type of dough into balls.
“It’s something for the girls,” I assure her.
Sam takes a minute to assess everything in front of her. Once she’s determined nothing will go wrong if she steps away, she looks at me and smiles. There’s flour on her cheek, and I just stop myself short of grabbing her in front of everyone when she sneaks a wink at me.
She follows me to my bedroom, asking me what she can help me with. She must miss the click of the lock, because she squeals with surprise when I lift her and toss her onto the bed. Her head falls back onto the pillow, laughter spilling from her throat.
“We can’t,” she protests between kisses. I’m already lifting her shirt, licking my way across her body. I free her breast from her bra and pull it deep into my mouth. She moans, and her legs automatically wrap around my waist.
I love her nipples. They’re a flawless shade of rosy pink and proportioned to her breasts perfectly. But I want more. I need more. I need her lips.
Finding them, she gives as good as she’s getting and by the time we break for a breath, we are nearly dry humping one another.
“It feels like fucking forever since I have been inside of you.”
“Because it has been fucking forever.” She moans when my fingers graze her sex. I add a little pressure to where she craves it most.
“Twenty-four hours.” Her hand jacks my cock through my pants. “You can wait.”
My hips are moving on their own and I apply more pressure in hopes to convince her otherwise.
“People,” kiss, “are,” kiss, “waiting.” She squirms out from under me, and I make a show of falling onto the bed in frustration. Lowering my zipper, I pull my impossibly hard dick from my trousers. The pre-come I’ve been leaking makes it easy for my hand to move.
“You’re not playing fair,” Sam says, her hand inches from the door knob.
“No, I’m not.”
Sam leans against the door and watches me pleasure myself. Her eyes glaze slightly and her breathing falters. She doesn’t give in, but neither do I.
With my eyes locked on hers, my hand accelerates, chasing my release. My balls tighten to my body and electricity sizzles through it. Her name is on my lips when I close my eyes as my release hits me with the force of a two-ton truck.
“What the…” A warm mouth engulfs me just as the first rope of come leaves my body. My body spasms as Sam sucks me through my release, drinking every part of me she can. She stays committed to the cause, only stopping when I beg her to, my dick turning sensitive.
She crawls up and kisses me, letting me taste myself on her lips.
“Clean up. Dinner in thirty minutes.” She says before leaving.
Christmas Eve is tomorrow. The girls and I are making a trip to Jenny’s parents while Finn and Sam have a date to have lunch and to see the Rockettes. Then the five of us are meeting for dinner before catching Handel’s Messiah at Carnegie Hall. A tradition of Everett and Jenny’s we plan to carry on with the girls.
Finn is staying with us Christmas Eve night and I plan on having as much sex as I can with the woman I love. Let me repeat that. I plan on having as much sex as I can with the woman I love. The true gift that keeps on giving.
I can’t remember having more fun with a group of people. Maybe it makes me old, but not even the days we spent in taverns were this enjoyable.
Everyone is in high spirits. Finn and Zinnie made crowns to wear. Everyone is a King on Christmas. It’s an English tradition, along with crackers. It takes Poppy a few practices with the paper covered tubes, but finally she figures out how to pop them.
Dinner is filled with regales of how much each of us enjoyed shopping for our person.
Everyone pitches in to clean, and by the time we settle down to open our stockings, the buildings around us are lit against the night sky.
The fire is burning, and Pierce puts on an old Sinatra Christmas album he brought. Quade and Poppy play Santa and pass out the stockings. Zinnie is curled into Finn, and when Quade takes his seat, Sam curls next to him, his arm easily wrapping around her. Poppy climbs into my lap and Grace explains that we are going to go one at a time. She is not deterred at all by the groans, and no one argues back.
Poppy begs to see her person go first. She walks around like she is playing Duck Duck Goose, when she finally comes to a stop in front of Pierce. He blinks in surprise and looks down at her. This man who most people think doesn’t have a heart. It’s true he keeps his thoughts close to the cuff, but I’ve known him long enough to know he is truly touched by the five-year-old in front of him.
“Finn took me because I’m five and I can’t go by myself, but all of your gifts I picked out myself,” she informs him.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Pierce leans forward, pulling her onto his lap. “I was hoping you had my name.” He smiles and she melts against him.
He reaches into the stocking that bears his name and pulls out a book. The cover is made of construction paper and is titled Two P’s in the City.
“I wrote you a story about our special day together,” she explains climbing off his lap to stand in front of him. “Each page cora, cora—what’s the word again?” she asks Finn.
“Corresponds.”
“Each page corasponts with a present.”
“The word is mine—the idea and the presents are all her,” Finn informs Pierce.
The book retells the day they went to The Nutcracker. It begins with their trip to Ladurée where they had macaroons before the show. There’s a Crayon drawing of a window that spells “Ladurée.” Beneath it are a little girl with curly hair and a man with dark hair and blue eyes.
She hands him a gift. It’s a slender box with a sleeve of macaroons.
“You said these were your favorites.” She moti
ons to the chocolate mint.
“As a matter of fact, I did,” he notes with wonderment.
He turns the page and it tells the story of the theatre the show was in. Poppy drew her version of the theatre across the bottom. She hands him gift number two. It’s a framed picture of a selfie he took of the two of them. Poppy was in her tutu.
The next page displays the colorful nutcrackers she saw. She hands him this third gift. It’s an actual nutcracker. This garners a laugh from everyone.
The last page is of them drinking hot-chocolate afterwards. The Bryant Park Tree is behind them and it’s snowing. It was our first snow of the season that night. In the picture she drew, Pierce’s nose is red, and he has blue lips. So, gift four is a lovely, cashmere scarf. I raise a brow to Finn, who winks back. Poppy has good taste.
The last page is a picture of two arms from the elbow down. One is larger than the other and is in a suit. The other is small and wearing a plaid coat. She hands him his last gift, and his breath catches slightly.
Pierce holds up a red leather Cartier box that looks a bit worn. Inside is a pair of snowflake cufflinks with what appears to be a tiny sapphire in the middle.
“Those were Dad’s,” Zinnie says and Poppy nods. “Mom gave them to him on their tenth wedding anniversary. He loved winter.”
“Poppy.” Pierce is at a loss for words, and takes a minute to compose himself. “I’m so touched, but you should keep these.”
“She wants you to have them,” Zinnie nods, indicating to him that she does, too.
Pierce clears his throat and looks down at the curly-haired girl in front of him. Engulfing her into a hug, he lifts her onto his lap and tells her how much he treasures every gift. She asks which one is his favorite.
“I love them all, but the storybook is my favorite.” He kisses the top of her head, and she looks like she was just given her favorite gift.
The night moves on. Grace cries when I tell her I thought the earrings matched her eyes. Clearly, I went above the budget, but what’s the point of having a financial mogul draw your name at Christmas if you can’t get a bit spoiled?