“Probably has better manners than you, shithead.”
“Pulling out the big guns now, huh? There’s that backbone. I was wondering where it went.”
“Go home, Lance, you hate it here. And you obviously hate me.”
“Just the opposite. It’s impossible, and believe me, I’m trying!”
“Well, I hope you succeed! Thanks for stopping by, Mary Poppins. Best Christmas ever! Make sure to bulldoze the nativity scene on your way out!”
“Fuck this.” He throws his hands up and eyes me warily before turning and walking away.
“Merry Christmas to you, too!”
Harper
“René?”
“In here, Mami.”
Blotting my face with my scarf, I hang it on the hall tree before making my way to his room. I find him shuffling through his closet. “What are you doing?”
“Looking for the perfect pajamas for dis White Christmas! I want to have one of dose nights where I’m comfortable in my pajamas and eat good soup. Ju knows, cozy. I love dose nights.”
“Where is Ricky?”
“Working. But he’s off tomorrow. Ju not going to Nana’s?”
“No, I saw her today with Lance.”
“Where is he?”
“At his hotel, I guess.”
“Oh, well, ju can join me if ju want. I’ll drink two, maybe three bottles of wine. We can watch the snow fall and plan my massive funeral. Pretend it’s like Princess Diana’s.”
“You’re the weirdest man ever.”
“I know. Now, where did I put dose damn pajamas?” He moves a pile of sweaters and glances back at me. “Oh no, have ju been crying?
“Yes. Lance and I just had the biggest fight. It started in the department store and then turned into a street brawl. He’s still pissed I broke up with him.”
He doesn’t look the least bit surprised. “Uh huh.”
“And he’s acting like a total possessive dick. Like he has any right after two years.”
“Uh huh.”
“Every time I say something about the show, about dancing, he starts getting snippy.”
“Like he resents jour life here, jour career?”
“Exactly. And I’ve only been supportive and happy for him.”
He turns to me with a sweater in his hands.
“Mami. Have ju had sex with him?”
“No. He’s barely touched me. I mean, we’ve held hands, but nothing beyond that.”
“Uh huh.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” He pulls out a small suitcase from the floor of his closet, unzips it, and puts one of his sweaters inside.
“What are you doing?”
“Packing.”
“Why?”
“I told ju my plans.”
“You said you were going to get drunk and watch the snow fall.”
“Oh, I am. But at Ricky’s.”
“Don’t go. I’ll get drunk and watch it with you.”
“Sorry. No can do. Hand me my sheashell bag on my dresser over dere, would ju?”
I hand him the bag, and he tosses it in the suitcase. “I don’t understand why you’re leaving.”
He shakes his head. “Ju will very soon.”
He adds his pajamas and another sweater to the suitcase along with a pair of jeans before he zips it shut.
“You told me that you’ll be here no matter what!”
“Jes and I mean it.”
“But you’re leaving?!”
“I’m making room for the other man in jour life.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Oh, baby. Ju are so blind sometimes. Sigh.”
“You don’t say sigh, you text sigh, or you actually sigh, and don’t you dare walk out that door!”
“Ju don’t need me tonight. When’s the last time ju got waxed?”
“What?”
“Humor me, Mami.”
“Jesus, I don’t know, four days ago, why?”
He kisses my temple. “Perfect.”
“René, you can’t leave me alone on Christmas.”
“I’m not.” I follow him out into the kitchen, where he plucks two cups of his Keurig coffee and shoves them into his backpack.
“Fine, go, but I’m keeping this wine.” I pick up two bottles off the kitchen counter and hold them tightly to me. “You’re leaving this.”
He smiles. “All jours. To celebrate.”
“Enough with the bullshit. What in the hell are you talking about?”
Arms full, I follow him to the front door, and he opens it before turning to me with a telling smile on his lips. “Jour about to have the bes sex of jour life. I envy ju.” He kisses my cheek. “Merry Christmas.”
I’m still gaping at the door, hugging the wine bottles to me when my phone pings in my purse from where it sits on the hall tree. Depositing the bottles in the seat, I pick it up to see René’s just sent me a real-time pic of Lance, walking toward our building.
Shit!
Scrambling to the bathroom, I clear my face of my ugly cry makeup and swish mouthwash for a good fifteen seconds. I barely have time to rinse when a knock sounds on the door. Heart pounding along with my feet, I race toward it and fling it open, breath stolen when I see the look in Lance’s eyes. Tears spill over my cheeks as he takes a step forward.
“Priss, I’m sorr—”
I launch myself at him, and he grips my face, holding me just an inch away from him, his eyes searching mine, a curse erupting from his lips right before he crushes me with his kiss. He presses in, my cries stifled by the pressure of his lips before he sweeps his tongue along the seam, and I open for him. Our kiss is endless, as he steps inside with me wrapped around him. I’m already drunk on the thrust of his tongue, so deep, so perfect as he groans into my mouth. A collective sigh escapes us both as he kisses me so intensely, I fight for more. My hands urgent, he pulls his away and pins me to the door, eyes hooded, his breaths coming out harsh. “Are we alone?”
Thank you, René.
“Yes.”
“Thank fuck,” he says roughly before he again claims my mouth, hungry. He’s already grinding against me, and I’m matching every thrust of his hips as our tongues clash violently. I’m covered in desire, drowning in need. He pulls away, kissing every inch of my face as I rip at his hair, his sweater. He’s just as eager, getting my blazer off before he begins to work on my shirt.
“I’ve missed you so much,” I murmur between kisses.
“Fuck, baby, I thought I’d never see you again.”
“Lance, please, please hurry.”
“How many shirts do you have on?”
“Rip them off!” I practically scream as one of them catches, hooking my mouth like a fish. We burst out laughing until our mouths again collide.
When we pull away, he sets me on my feet, unhooking my bra and letting it fall away before covering my naked breasts with warm hands. Goosebumps erupt over my skin as he speaks to me in a dreamlike state. “I could never hate you, Priss, never.” He scoops me into his arms and gazes down at me in a way I could only dream about. It’s his eyes that convey so much. He gently deposits me on the couch, hovering above me, his forearms next to my head.