“You haven’t bought my gift yet, have you?” He sounded amused rather than hurt, which was a good thing. That’s what I told myself, anyway.
Sometimes it feels as if Griffin can see into my soul. Some people might find it romantic. I find it beyond annoying. “I don’t know what to get you,” I admitted. “This is a stressful situation and you’re not helping matters.”
Griffin licked his lips, clearly debating how to answer before opening his mouth. I could see the decision made by the way he furrowed his brow. “How is this a stressful situation? We’ve been dating for quite some time now. You should know what I like. Just get me a shirt or something.”
I made an exaggerated face, affronted. “Did you get me a shirt?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because I didn’t want Jerry to smack me around for picking a color that washed you out.” Griffin’s grin was impish as he stroked the back of my head. “Baby, it doesn’t matter what you get me. There’s no reason to work yourself up over this. Just pick out something simple and call it a day.”
“That’s not how Christmas is supposed to work,” I grumbled, rolling to a sitting position. When Griffin first suggested we buy a recliner for the living room I had my doubts. Recliners seem dated and always remind me of sitcom dads. From the moment Griffin brought the recliner home, though, it had been our favorite piece of furniture. We spent most nights curled up on it together so we could watch movies or simply talk about our days. It was nice. Now, though, the proximity the recliner forced upon us felt stifling. “I want to get you the perfect gift.”
Instead of having sympathy for me, which is what I expected, Griffin snorted and shifted so I had no choice but to roll back on top of him if I didn’t want to fall out of the chair.
“It’s not funny,” I protested. “I’ve been to every store in the area. There’s nothing that you’d like.”
“I find that difficult to believe,” Griffin countered, moving his hands to frame my face and making sure I could look nowhere but at him. “I’ll like anything you get me because you got it for me. That’s the way this whole relationship thing works. I’ll buy you something and you’ll like it no matter what, and you’ll buy me something and I’ll do the same.”
It sounded practical and yet … it didn’t quite fit the series of Christmas scenarios I’d been running through my head for weeks. “What if I buy you golf clubs?”
“Why would you buy me golf clubs?”
“Because men like golf.”
“What kind of strange golfing men have you been hanging out with?”
“My father and brothers,” I answered, serious. “They all golf. Do you think they’re not going to make you golf when the weather breaks? That’s not how it works.”
Griffin snickered, genuinely amused. “I would love golf clubs if that’s what you want to get me. They seem a little expensive for items I’ll use only once or twice a year, but okay. If that’s what you want to buy me, knock yourself out.”
“What if I want to buy you a shirt and you don’t like it?”
“I will like any shirt you buy me.”
He seemed convinced, but I knew otherwise. “I bought Jerry a shirt that says ‘Dorothy on the streets, Blanche between the sheets’ and I know he’ll love it,” I offered. “What if I bought that shirt for you?”
It took Griffin a moment to run the saying through his head, and when he realized it was from The Golden Girls he couldn’t stop smiling. “Did you really get that shirt for Jerry?”
I nodded.
“He’ll love it,” Griffin said, resting his hand on my rear end and giving it a fond squeeze. “As for me, if you want to give me that shirt, I will wear it … around here on the weekends.”
“So you won’t wear it to work? Is that what you’re telling me? Even though you’re supposed to love whatever I get you for Christmas, you’re saying you won’t love that enough to wear it in public?”
“I know what you’re doing and it won’t work,” Griffin warned. “You can’t punish me because I’ve been done with my shopping for a month. You’re a woman. You’re supposed to love shopping.”
“It’s painful,” I muttered, burrowing my face into the hollow of his neck. “You’re very hard to buy for.”
“I’m easy to buy for,” Griffin countered. “You’re just making this harder than it has to be. I shouldn’t be surprised, because that’s what you do. But I refuse to feel guilty for being a good boyfriend and buying you a ton of perfect gifts.”
I knew he was joking, but felt a shudder of dread course down my spine all the same. “A ton of perfect gifts?”
“Just call me Santa Claus.” Griffin kissed the tip of my nose, ignoring my discomfort and wiggling his hips. “So, how did the other Santa – your Santa – die?”
“He went outside during a break and decided to take a wiz on the Dumpster behind Oakland Mall,” I replied, listless. “He had a heart attack and fell against the Dumpster, hitting his head.”
“That kind of bites,” Griffin noted, making a face. “Did the cops find the body?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea.”
“You didn’t call it in after the fact?” Griffin was horrified. “He might be out there for days until someone finds him.”
“That’s not part of the job,” I reminded him. “I just suck and run.”
“You suck, huh?” Griffin’s expression turned from annoyed to amorous. “Come here and give me a kiss.”
I was instantly suspicious about his attitudinal shift. “Why?”
“Because I want a kiss.”
“Fine.” I blew out a heavy breath and inched higher, pressing my lips to his. Griffin sank into the exchange, making eager sighing noises as he cupped the back of my head. “Happy?”
Griffin nodded. “I love you, Aisling.”
The naked emotion on his face caught me off guard. “I love you, too.”
“In the end, that’s the only Christmas gift I need.” He pressed another kiss to my mouth, this one softer. There was no urgency behind the exchange this time, just sweetness and comfort.
I finally allowed myself to relax and sink into the kiss when the front door of the townhouse burst open. I jerked my head in that direction, expecting mayhem and imminent death, but instead found my best friend Jerry. Dressed in red pants and a green sweater, a white scarf haphazardly tossed over his shoulder, he barely glanced at us as he scuttled into the room.
“Don’t mind me,” he called. “I won’t even notice if you go all the way. That’s how busy I’ll be.” He headed straight for the shopping bags at the end of the couch and started rummaging.
“Who says ‘go all the way’ anymore?” Griffin asked, amused. He didn’t appear to be bothered by Jerry’s appearance – or the fact that he didn’t knock – so whatever Christmas spirit had overtaken my boyfriend was clearly powerful.
“Only the cool kids,” Jerry replied, pulling out several packages of tinsel. “So, I decided to go with purple and silver. It won’t clash with your décor – not that you’ve done a lot of decorating since you moved in, mind you – and it matches Aisling’s eyes and looks lovely with her hair despite the new bangs, which I can’t decide if I like.”
“Well, those are the important things,” Griffin teased, amused. “What’s all the tinsel for?”
“To decorate your townhouse, of course.” Jerry’s expression was dark. “What do you think it’s for? Do you think because I’m gay I dance around in it or something?”
“Um … no.” Griffin widened his eyes. “I was merely asking what the tinsel was for.”
“He uses the feather boas when he’s dancing,” I teased, groaning as I struggled to a sitting position and focused on Jerry. “Seriously, what’s the deal with all of the decorations?”
“It’s Christmas.”
“I know that.”
“You need decorations for Christmas,” Jerry pressed, his annoyance surfacing. “Bug, this is your first home whe
re you haven’t had someone to decorate for you. When you were a kid all of the servants at Grimlock Manor did it. When you lived with me, I did it. Who is going to do it now?”
“I … um … .” I honestly had no idea how to answer that question. Between my mother constantly showing up – and I was sure occasionally stalking me – and Griffin’s mother’s imminent arrival, decorating the townhouse was the last thing on my mind. “I thought we would get a tree and put some lights on it or something.”
“Oh, how lovely,” Jerry drawled. “You can’t simply get a tree and call it a day. You need to decorate this whole place, and you need to do it up right.”
I remained confused. “But … why?”
“Because Griffin’s mother will be here very soon and you don’t want her to think you’re frigid, do you?”
Jerry’s response was enough to cause my stomach to flip. In my head, it sounded ridiculous. In my heart it made sense. “She won’t think I’m frigid because I don’t decorate, will she?”
“Of course not,” Griffin automatically answered.
“No one is talking to you,” Jerry warned, extending a finger in Griffin’s direction before focusing on me. “Of course she’ll think you’re frigid, Bug. I mean … look at you.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I darted a glance at Griffin, panicked, and then tried to claw to my knees so I could stare at myself in the mirror across the way. “Do I look frigid?”
“You don’t look frigid!” Griffin’s annoyance was obvious when he grabbed me around the waist and scorched Jerry with a hateful look. “Do you have to get her wound up? I just calmed her down, for crying out loud.”
“What was she worked up about?” Jerry asked.
“She hasn’t bought my Christmas gift yet. She’s convinced whatever she picks will suck.”
“You haven’t bought his Christmas gift yet?” Jerry practically exploded, causing me to jerk and Griffin to release me. “What is wrong with you? You can’t wait until the last second. He’ll think you don’t love him.”
“I already know she loves me,” Griffin called out, resigned. “She doesn’t have to get me anything.”
“Oh, you say that now, but we all know you don’t mean it,” Jerry said. “You’re a typical man. You say you’re fine and then you’ll melt down when things don’t go your way on Christmas Day. I know all about how the male mind works.”
“Are you going to melt down?” I couldn’t help but worry Jerry was right. “You can’t melt down. Your mother will be here and I know I’m going to melt down. If we both melt down she’ll order you to break up with me, and then we’ll be in a world of trouble.”
“Oh, so dramatic,” Griffin muttered, grabbing my wrist. “Baby, my mother is going to love you. Even if she doesn’t, I’m already hopelessly devoted to you. There’s nothing that could separate us. Not ever. It doesn’t matter what she thinks.”
He said the perfect words, yet I couldn’t possibly believe them. I shifted my eyes to Jerry. “Talk to me about these decorations.”
“Oh, geez.” Griffin slapped his hand to his forehead.
I ignored him and nodded encouragingly at Jerry. “Tell me.”
“I have fat Santas, round snowmen, heraldic angels, bright tinsel, twinkling lights, a lot of mistletoe and several Christmas CDs so you can always seem soft and loving,” Jerry supplied. “All you have to do is pretend to be a nice girl while she’s here. I’ll handle the rest.”
That seemed simple enough. “And that will make her think I’m not frigid?”
“You’re not frigid!” Griffin barked.
“I’ll handle everything, Bug,” Jerry replied. “I’ll even clear room on my calendar so we can go shopping together.”
I hated shopping with Jerry. It was like being trapped in basic training. He yelled if I didn’t shop fast enough. Still, I couldn’t afford to be choosy. “I can’t wait.”
“Me either.” Jerry enthusiastically wiggled his butt. “It’s going to be a great Christmas season.”
“I need another drink,” Griffin muttered. “I have a feeling I’m going to have to be drunk to get through this holiday.”
I had a feeling that would be true for all of us by the end of the week.
3
Three
“You look grumpy.”
Aidan didn’t greet me with anything other than a raised eyebrow the next morning – my mood was written all over my face – and instead gave me a wide berth as he poured a mug of coffee for Griffin and focused on my boyfriend.
“I am grumpy,” Griffin supplied, nodding in thanks as he pulled the mug in front of him. “I was in a great mood until your boyfriend came over to our place last night.”
Aidan shifted his eyes to Jerry’s back, my best friend bobbing about having a holly and jolly Christmas as he flipped blueberry pancakes at the stove. Jerry owns a bakery in downtown Royal Oak and is a whiz in the kitchen. He pitched a fit if we skipped breakfast most days. I’m a terrible cook and lazy when it comes to domestic activities, so it’s rarely a concern.
“What did he do?” Aidan asked after a beat. “Did he ransack your place looking for his Christmas gifts? I told him I didn’t hide them there, so I’m sorry if he tore everything apart.”
Griffin arched an eyebrow, the first hint of amusement touching his face since we rose. “No. I could’ve dealt with that. He brought a pile of decorations and insisted on making our place look as if Santa Claus threw up purple and silver tinsel.”
“It wasn’t just tinsel,” Jerry offered, proving he was listening to the conversation even though he wasn’t looking at us. “I bought Santas … and snowmen … and angels … and lots and lots of mistletoe.”
“I don’t mind the mistletoe,” Griffin muttered. “It’s the rest of it I could do without.”
“What? You’re not a fan of Christmas? I’m shocked.” Aidan and Griffin had a tempestuous relationship. They fought for months, Aidan convinced Griffin was trying to steal me from him. Eventually they made up and had been on good terms since. I didn’t want to see all of the recent good feelings turn to ill will if I could help it.
“Leave him alone,” I ordered, causing Griffin’s eyes to drift to me. “He put up with Jerry and me for hours last night. He deserves a chance to vent.”
Griffin pursed his lips as Aidan chortled.
“Oh, geez, you’re such a pain these days,” Aidan complained, focusing on me. “Why can’t you chill out and enjoy the holiday season? You’ve always loved Christmas. Heck, when we were teenagers, you were the one who found all of our Christmas gifts and then made us pay you if we wanted to know what they were.”
“You did that?” Griffin’s lips curved. “That sounds just like you for some reason.”
“I did always love Christmas,” I admitted. “Even after I found out Santa wasn’t real I loved getting presents.”
“Giving them is another story, huh?” Aidan waggled his eyebrows, earning a frown from Griffin.
“Are you the one who put all of that nonsense in her head about having to get me the perfect Christmas gift?” Griffin challenged, catching Aidan off guard. “Don’t make her manic. I can take only so much. The holidays are stressful enough as it is. The last thing I need is a crazy girlfriend.”
Sadly I worried he would take that statement to heart one day and realize he’d made a mistake when deciding to hitch his future to me. As if reading my mind, Griffin frowned and grabbed my knee under the table.
“My mother is going to love you,” he supplied. “I’ll like whatever Christmas gift you pick out. In fact, if you get me nothing and return to your usual smiling – er, well, snarky – self, I will consider that the best Christmas gift ever.”
“Oh, no.” I shook my head. “You’re getting a big Christmas gift. It’s going to be huge.”
“I think that’s supposed to be his line to you,” Aidan teased.
I cuffed the back of his head and planted my napkin on my lap. “I simply need an afternoon t
o myself to think. I’ll find the perfect gift.”
“Don’t forget you’re going shopping with me later,” Jerry reminded me. “I’ll find the perfect gift for Griffin. There’s nothing I can’t shop.”
“You say that as if you meant to use the word ‘hunt,’” Griffin argued.
“No, I mean shop.” Jerry was blasé as he flipped pancakes onto my plate. “We’ll figure it out, Bug. We always do.”
“Yeah? Well, we’d better hurry. I think I’m getting an ulcer.” I ruefully rubbed my stomach as Griffin leaned over and kissed my cheek.
“Aisling, don’t make yourself sick over this,” Griffin ordered. “I don’t like it when you’re all messed up … especially over nothing.”
“I do,” Aidan countered. “It means she’s too distracted to be evil.”
“I’m never too distracted to be evil,” I countered, pinning him with a furious look. “Don’t make me take time out of my busy schedule to pound you.”
“There’s my baby.” Griffin ran his hand down the back of my head. He was frustrated. I could practically feel the unrest emanating from him. He knew me well enough not to push me, though. “Just … take a breath, okay? Don’t freak out or do anything that’ll cause problems. In fact, why don’t you take the day off and head to the spa with Jerry? I’ll even pay for it if that’s an issue.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Are you trying to placate me?”
“Oh, geez.” Griffin pressed his eyes shut. “There’s no right answer to that question, is there? Baby, I love you more than anything, but you’re killing me. You need to calm down.”
“Perhaps you should get me a chill pill for Christmas?” I suggested.
“Don’t push me.” For the first time Griffin’s tone dipped into dangerous territory. “I’m willing to put up with a lot from you because I understand you’re nervous about meeting my mother. Do you want to know why I understand how you feel where that’s concerned?”
Grim Holiday (Aisling Grimlock Book 6) Page 3