“Well, I got good work, so I intend to stay for a while. Timmy told me all about the wintertime here. I want to see the ice skating. I want to see the lights at Christmas.” Colt sounded like he was hypnotized, lazy and barely slurred.
He smiled. He loved the city at Christmas. “The big stores do all these elaborate decorations in their windows along Fifth Avenue; they’re amazing. And there’s a big tree at Rockefeller Center. And the Empire State Building gets lit up red and green.” He kissed Colt’s temple. “Oh! And the Rockettes!”
“We can see everything. I want to see everything with you.”
“You will.” Maybe this would be the year he stopped putting himself through Christmas Day with his parents. “We could put a tree up at my place. Decorate it.” That would be a first for him.
“Oo-eee! That would be something. I ain’t had a tree in a long time.”
“Me neither. I’ve never had one at my place at all.” He suddenly could picture them, running strings of lights with classic Christmas carols playing in the background—Nat King Cole, Bing Crosby, Andy Williams. “Where should we put it? The front hall? The den near the fireplace?”
“The front would let other folks see, but we’d see it more near the fire.” Colt turned his face, smiled up at him. “Why not?”
“Why not, what? Put it in the den? It’s for us, we’ll put it there.”
“Why not you ain’t had a tree? No time? Have you ever had to be the Nutcracker?”
“Oh, no. I’ve danced in the show, I don’t know, four or five times early on in my career. Ensemble parts usually, but I danced Cavalier once, and I was a swing for the Mouse King in another production. But I’ve never been the enchanted toy himself, no.”
He set his empty mug down on the bedside table. He didn’t think Colt would let him ignore the question again. “You haven’t had a tree in a long time, either, you said? I’d guess our reasons might be about the same. Christmas is beautiful outside the house, out in the city where you can look and enjoy it and celebrate. Inside the house it’s just… lonely. I always say I don’t have time. I might if it mattered.”
Colt nodded. “I been on the street for a while, then I went from that to fancy-assed hotels, huh? Home is where my guitar is.”
He never really thought about his place as home, maybe because it used to belong to his parents. For all that it was beautiful and comfortable, it could be a big, lonely place, and he often felt more at home outside the brownstone than in it.
“I’m happy you’re keeping that guitar here. We’ll make some of our own kind of fun for the holidays this year. What do you make for Christmas dinner in New Orleans? We could each pick a couple of things we like, right?”
“You mean a réveillon, cher? We could have ourselves a wee feasting.”
“A wee feasting? I don’t feast small, baby.” He laughed. “What’s a réveillon? Like, a party?”
“Is a lovely supper—turtle soup and turkey, barbecue shrimp and croquembouche. But we can make whatever makes us happy and have candles on the table to wake the light up and welcome the bébé.”
“Turtle soup? Oh, you have to make that. I’ve never had it.” The waking the baby part he’d just let his lover have if he wanted it. Hopefully Colt didn’t want to go to church or mass or whatever too. He might burst into flames. “Candles sound great, you know I love that stuff. The shrimp sounds fantastic too. I have to have some potatoes, though. And something green. Brussels sprouts or spinach or something.”
“You ever had brussels sprouts fried? Oh, that’s heaven.” Colt hummed softly, then chuckled for him. “Of course, I’d be happy to sit with you and eat corn flakes.”
“We are not eating corn flakes on Christmas. But I hear what you’re saying.” He plucked the coffee mug from Colt’s fingers and set it on the table alongside his. “Are you getting hungry, baby? You want to take Timmy out for something greasy?” He leaned in and stole a light kiss.
“Hash browns and eggs.”
He loved how Colt said “aigs.” Loved it. He nodded. “French toast and sausage. And more coffee. And then we can walk of shame back to my place.” He did need to work. Just a little at least, or he wouldn’t feel ready to dance tonight.
“No shame. None.” Colt swung around onto his lap. “You gon’ let me play while you dance?”
He smiled and ran his hands up Colt’s sides. “Sure, if you want to. I just need to get a workout in. I’d love that.”
Whoever it was that told Colt he was just ordinary hadn’t ever seen the view Kyle had right now.
“Me too. I love to see you move. It’s like magic.”
“It’s not magic. Just like your music isn’t magic. It’s passion. It’s obsession and hard work. Nobody else has to know that, but we do. This thing we have going, though? You and me? That is definitely magic. I have no idea how we made this happen.”
He pulled Colt’s face down closer for a kiss.
Colt smiled at him, dark eyes glistening, so warm.
“Okay, baby. Clothes. I don’t guess you have an extra toothbrush? Should I ask Timmy?” He gave Colt a playful little shove to get him moving.