“Please stop,” I said calmly, putting my index finger over his mouth.
He kissed my fingertip and said, “Make me.” Then continued his torturous negotiation: “Make my wish come true …” Oh my gosh, he was warbling.
I kissed him. I had to. Because I couldn’t listen for a second longer, and the jerk knew it.
We kissed for a few minutes, then he pulled away. “Why do you always work Christmas? Too many bad memories?” His perceptive blue eyes searched mine. I hadn’t told him, but he’d figured out a lot about that day seven — no, eight. Eight years ago today.
I nodded. His eyes flashed with emotion as he pushed me on my back, hovering over me. “Is this like Feliz Navidad?” He asked with another soft kiss. “Can I help you replace the bad memories with something more pleasant? I’ve got time to make it up to you.”
Now he had time. Now, when it was convenient for him to roll into my house at 3 am, he had all the time in the world. But I didn’t.
“I’m going to be late.” I rolled away, but our legs stayed intertwined.
“When will you be home?” Home, he said, as if he lived here with me.
“I planned to go straight to your parents' house for Christmas dinner. And if this is going to —” I waggled a finger between our chests, and his mouth twitched into a grin, “I need to get the ok from your sister.”
His smile faltered. “She’s the last thing —”
“If Mallory suspects something between us before I have the chance to talk to her …” my voice tightened at the thought of betraying my best friend.
“We don’t have to tell her,” he whispered as his thumb caressed my jaw.
Oh hell no. I’d read too many stories of trans women being a quick fling, a conquest for straight men to cross off the bingo card, then being discarded.
“Yes we do,” I said with an edge in my voice, pushing away from him and rolling out of the bed. “I won’t risk my friendship with Mallory for… whatever this is. I won’t be your dirty little trans secret.”
He scrambled out of bed. “You can’t possibly think —”
“Don’t tell me what to think,” I snapped. “You disappeared five days ago with a woman Kate said was your girlfriend. Mallory said you started dating when she was still in high school.”
He looked annoyed, surprised anybody would recognize her … as if she weren't unforgettably gorgeous. “We broke up four years ago, but we still work together. It’s complicated.”
“So she shows up out of nowhere, and within seconds you’re gone.”
“My job was on the line, Grace,” he said gruffly, “I couldn’t —“
“She made that clear. But you didn’t call or text me or your sister, you just … disappeared.” My hand made a poof gesture. His face showed it hadn’t occurred to him that either of us would be mad. “Then you showed up unannounced and scared the crap out of me. Did you think about how it would feel for me to wake up to two men talking outside my house?”
His mouth fell open. Clearly he hadn’t.
“And you won’t tell me what you want from me, except that it’s shameful enough that you want to hide it.”
As much as it pained me to say it, I crossed my arms over my chest and forced it out: “I think you should go.”
His eyebrows shot up. I wondered if he’d ever been turned down for sex in his life. I’d be kicking myself well into the nursing home, knowing that I had the hottest man alive in my bed and I declined.
But there was too much on the line.
He threaded his hands behind his head. “I told my boss I wasn’t going back until January. I left Manhattan in the middle of the night because I want to be here with you.” His voice cracked. “And you won’t give me a chance because you’re afraid of my sister?”
“I’m not afraid of her,” I said, even though I totally was. “But she’s not prepared. At her solstice party last week, she kept trying to set me up.”
He stiffened, his jaw clenching. “She did?”
“She had mistletoe hanging all over the studio, hoping I’d meet somebody.” She invited Dr. Tran, hoping we’d hit it off. She called it ‘Operation Mistletoe: Get Grace Laid.’ She threatened to print t-shirts.
“You didn’t stop her? Tell her about —” he replicated my finger waggle.
“Tell her what, exactly? ‘Hey Mal, I sort of had a thing for your brother.’”
His discomfort disappeared under a cocky grin. “You have a thing for me.”
“Had, past tense,” I said sternly, tempering my reaction to that grin. “She’d ask what happened, and I’d tell her: I forced your brother to dress up as Santa and he got tricked into kissing me. When I told him I was transgender, he ran out like his hair was on fire. I scared him off with a PTSD flashback, and he came over because he pitied me. He left suddenly and I assume I’ll never see him again.”
He reeled like he’d been slapped. “That’s what you think happened?”
Chapter 21Alex
She slumped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling to avoid my eyes. Again.
I hated seeing her dejected, knowing that it was my fault. She hadn’t expected me or known I’d been thinking about her …
Of course she hadn’t. I hadn’t told her.
Meanwhile, my sister was encouraging her to kiss somebody else — multiple somebodies, from the sounds of it. I couldn’t be mad if she had, yet the idea of her kissing anybody else twisted my gut.
