“Are you sure you don’t want to come?” Mom asks, standing at the open door. 

I raise my eyebrow. “You’re asking me, but you’re not even sure you want to go,” I point out.

She sighs, pursing her lips. “April will kill me if I don’t.” I laugh. I don’t blame her, Mom wouldn’t have if she wasn’t dragging her there. 

“She won’t kill me though, so I’m safe. Have fun, now go.” I begin to nudge the door closed, waving her off. She raises her hands in surrender, leaving to follow Ellie on their walk to the house. When the door shuts, the cold air evaporates from the room. The couch calls for me, and my body doesn’t deny it as it drops onto the cushion. 

Christmas is always a tiring holiday. Even though I don’t celebrate it much, everyone else does, including my fans. So, events and other stuff are always expected. I still have a small event happening tomorrow, so I should probably rest and get some sleep today. Will I though? Probably not.

There’s a knock on the door, and I jump up from the couch to step the small distance to the door. I twist the lock and pull the door open. He stands at the door, in his black jacket, holding a bag in his hand. A smile takes over my face. “You’re here.” 

“I didn’t want to come too late,” He says, stepping inside. The faint scent of his cologne mixes with the chill he carries in before I shut the door, sealing the wind away.

“It’s barely dark out, what late are you referring to?” I point out, turning to him as he slips off his shoes, and I look down at the bag. “Is that mine? Thank you, you didn’t have to.” I grin as I reach out, pulling the bag from his hand before he can even reply.

“If it wasn’t, it is yours now,” He laughs, now facing me. I lean closer and kiss him softly. Just for a second, before placing the gift on the table at the center of the room, then returning to take his hand. 

“Now come on, I’m hungry," I say, dragging him inside.

“You do know the food needs time to finish, right?” 

“Yes, that’s why we’re starting now.” We continue into the kitchen. I stop at the counter near the stove, where everything is already out. I open the drawer and pull out two black aprons. Turning to him, I hold one out with a grin. He unfolds it, putting it on and tying the back. “So, you’re sure you want to make the cookies? I can make both,” He addresses, raising his eyebrows. 

“Yes, I’m making a ‘chai cookies’ recipe I found online. If I follow the instructions, I’ll be fine. Now, shh, don’t worry about me,” I tell him, also putting the apron over my shirt and tying it back. 

“I’m worried about the cookies,” He laughs, walking toward the counter. He looks through the ingredients I’ve set up. “So what am I making?”

“Whatever you can with what’s here. It’s up to you, because I have no idea.” I start taking out the cookies’ ingredients from the cabinets. Elias then takes out a cutting board, beginning to chop the vegetables. I look at him, arching my eyebrows. “How did you come up with something already?” 

He looks to the side. “It’s chicken, it’s easy to freestyle. Now, don’t worry, I got it, as you said,” He tells me, returning his gaze to the cutting board. 

I smile, turning to my station. I keep my eyes on the phone and the ingredients, putting all the measurements into the bowl. I mix everything together, focusing on what I’m doing. However, the more I mix and add, the more I feel like I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing. Now, I don’t know how the mix is supposed to be, but I don’t think it’s like this. I stir it with the spoon, which moves through it easily. Too easily. 

I stop, turning to face Elias. Two pots are steaming over the stove, and I wait as he lowers the heat on both and covers them with the lids. How does he always do it so effortlessly? He turns to me now. “I don’t know what I did,” I mutter. He raises his eyebrows, biting away a smile. 

“Let’s see.” He steps toward me and the bowl, inspecting it with the spoon. His eyes narrow. “What is this?”

“It’s supposed to be cookie dough.” 

“Val, this is soup,” He giggles, twisting his head to me. I frown at him. “I’m sorry, it’s not that bad, we can still fix it,” He apologizes, wrapping an arm around me and bringing me closer to his side. 

“I did everything it said, why isn’t it working?” I sigh.

“It’s okay. Recipes can have typos, or maybe they missed something.” He presses his lips on the top of my head. “Can I see the recipe? Just to know what you put in.” I grab my phone and give it to him. He quickly skims through it, before taking some of the ingredients and adding them to the bowl. 

In a couple of minutes, or seconds even, the liquid thickens into dough. “There, see. All good.” He wipes his hands and looks at me. 

“Are you magic?” I ask, approaching the dough and poking it. 

A grin plays on his face as he steps back to the stove, opening the pots and mixing through them. “No. Now, let’s put them on the tray, and we can eat while we wait for them.”

I nod my head, kneeling down to take out a tray and matching baking sheet, before pinching off a small piece of the dough and rolling it in my hands.

 

I lift a spoon of the food on my plate to my mouth, filling it with a burst of spices. My plate rests on the counter, where we made sure had been tidied up and clean. “I still don’t get how you make things like this. I could never,” I say after I swallow.

“Practice. I had a lot of free time whenever Roland was out,” He mentions, also taking a spoon of his food. 

‘Right. Roland liked being boring and miserable.” I purse my lips, looking down at the plate. 

“So do you like it?”

“When have I ever not liked your food?”

“Anytime I make pasta.”

“That has nothing to do with your cooking though, I don’t eat anyone’s pasta.” I take the last bite of my food, taking the plate to the sink. “So, how much longer do the cookies need?” I ask automatically. 

He looks down at his wrist. “Like ten minutes. I’ll check in five through, just in case.” He finishes his plate now, doing the same. 

“Then we add the topping, and put on a movie because I’m tired.”

He grins. “Okay, that sounds good.”

 

I sink into the couch, leaning on his side, nibbling on the last cookie, my eyes lazily fixed on the TV. Trying to focus and keep my eyes open fully. However, the tired state begins to take over me, and the TV music only makes it harder to stay up. I rest my eyes closed, giving in, only for a couple of seconds.

The TV speakers stop, and I open my eyes to the screen now black. “Do you want to go sleep? You look exhausted,” Elias mentions, looking down. 

I straighten slightly, leaning up. “I’m fine, just a bit tired. I had a busy day,” I excuse, shaking my head, then looking ahead again. The gift bag catches my eye where it sits on the table, colorful tissue paper sticking out. Sitting up, I lean forward to grab it. “You didn’t tell me what you got.”

“Open and see.” 

I peel back the red and green tissue paper covering the contents, revealing a delicate flower bouquet. It’s not a real one though, instead crocheted in purple and light blue hues. I pick it up, running my thumb over the soft pattern. Violets for Violet. A soft tingly feeling touches my heart. “Aww, it’s so cute. Did you make it?” 

“Mhm. I didn’t know if you would like it though, so there is another gift too in the car,” He mentions, shrugging his shoulders. 

I squint my eyes, twisting and looking up at him again. “Shut up, I love it. I’m going to put it on my office desk so I can see it everyday.” His lips curl upwards. “Thank you, it’s amazing,” I add.

He leans in and kisses me softly, heating up my skin. The air catches in my throat, and I let out a soft breath. “You’re always welcome.” 

“I got something for you too actually.” I get up and walk to my purse at the entrance, bringing it back with me to the couch. I take out a small silver clip, giving it to him. “It’s a pin for your tie,” I specify.

The smile grows as he turns it around. “I love it. You engraved your name in the back.”

“And a flower.” 

His eyes return to mine. “Yes, and a flower.” His voice is lower, a softness in his gaze.

“Mhm. So everyone knows your mine now,” I utter, almost whispering. 

“I was always yours.” 

My head tilts to the side slightly. “So you’re not going to wear it?” 

“Of course I am. Everyday.” He leans closer to kiss me again, deeper this time. My eyes fall closed at his touch. His lips brush over mine softly, pressing them back again and again. Blood rushes to my face, hot, as his hands slide up to my neck. Pulling me closer, his thumb touching my cheek. 

My body tingles as I move closer, bringing my hands to his chest and up to his shoulders, where his heart beats rapidly under my fingers. I lift my legs up to the couch, turning completely to him. I push closer onto him, kissing him harder. With his hands still on my neck, he falls back onto the couch, pulling me down with him. I giggle softly, muffled against his lips. I pull back slightly, opening my eyes to look at him. His eyes shine as he tilts his head slightly. “I love you,” I whisper, giving him one more soft kiss. 

“I love you more,” He whispers back, his thumb tracing gently over my cheek. I turn to the side, dropping down next to him and laying my head on his chest. His arm wraps around, playing with the strands of my hair. “So you’ll actually wear it?” I ask. 

“Yes. You think I’m joking, but watch. Next time I wear a tie, you’ll see it on.” 

I twist my head up, bringing my gaze to his face. “Good. Now I’ll know that you’re thinking of me even when I’m not with you.” 

“As if there’s ever a moment when I’m not.” A wave of heat enters my body, my eyes still glued to him. His hair frizzes slightly against the couch’s fabric, the light brown color still shining against the lamp’s light . He looks down now, catching me staring. “What?” He teases.

“Nothing.” I shake my head, but a grin on my face betrays me. I look back down, but I still sense his eyes. “Do you think Mom and Ellie will be out long?” 

“Depends on when they let her leave. If they could get them to sleep over, they would.” 

I let out a faint laugh. “They’re funny. But Mom actually went this time, so that’s a good thing,” I mention. Better than thanksgiving, when she bailed on them. 

“When will you go?”

I hesitate. “Maybe next year.”

“Ellie told me you said that about celebrating last year.” 

“Ellie’s a snitch.” He chuckles. “Plus, this is fine. I like Christmas better this way.” 

“Then that’s all that matters,” He whispers. A yawn then escapes my mouth, and I raise my hand to cover it. “You should sleep, you’ve had a long day.” 

“Will you stay? Just a little while?” My eyelids get heavier with every word I say. I shift slightly, more to my side. He hums in acceptance, and I spot the flowers on the table. Catching the light glow of the lamp in the room. It’s the last thing I see before I close my eyes. His fingers continue to play with my hair, calming my head into rest. I try to whisper one more thing, but I’m not sure if it’s clear. “Merry Christmas.” 

I don’t hear his response, but I know he says it back.

 

***