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If this room didn’t feel dinky before, it does now.

Only able to have a tabletop Christmas tree, which Katya placed on her desk, scattered around us are the remnants of wrapped packages– wrapping paper, pieces of tape, and yards upon yards of colorful ribbons. What makes it difficult is having three children between three adults, with no space to put all the gifts everyone so desperately wanted but didn’t necessarily need.

“See, it’s a puppy, Azrael.” Overexaggerated with forced enthusiasm, I help our youngest daughter extract the stuffed French Bulldog toy from its packaging. “Just like you asked the mall Santa.”

Gigantic eyes glistening with tears glare up at me from where she’s sitting on the carpet by my feet, pulling off the world’s most perfect pout. “But it’s not a real puppy, Daddy.” Spoiled but not a bad girl, Azrael pets her puppy, even if she’s disappointed it doesn’t have a heartbeat.

“Santa can’t bring live animals on the sleigh, remember?” Cort is craftier than I am, and that’s saying something. “I promise to get you each a puppy as soon as we go home.”

…and I promised to get Cort our home back.

Fuck!

“Isn’t that special?” is said in a light voice as I glare at the side of Cort’s face. The coward won’t look at me.

“Daddy doesn’t want us to have real puppies, Az.” Marcus Zane is smarter than any of us in the room, but not as crafty as his twin. “This Santa stuff doesn’t make sense.”

We’re screwed.

“Santa knows when we’ve been bad or good.” Mommy’s voice pitches high.

Katya’s been off since early this morning. Cort and I left the tent at four this morning, only to discover Katya was not in our bed when we returned. I was feeling guilty for abandoning her, knowing how badly she must have seen my actions.

We found Katya and the kids sleeping in Ava’s bed. When I asked Ava about that, she said Katya showed up in the middle of the night. Most notable, Mommy was two-sheets to the wind and furious. Katya didn’t fall asleep– she passed out.

Since Cort hasn’t left this room to get any juicy gossip, and Katya refuses to acknowledge our existence, we’re both at a loss as to why Mommy keeps talking through a straw with her fists clenched at her sides.

“Santa’s a bit like Daddy, always creeping around like a stalker.” Katya settles onto the arm of the chair Ava’s sitting in, the slit of her nightgown showing off a nice slice of thigh. The angrier this woman gets, the more turned on I am. “Santa understands our living situation.”

“Stuffed animal puppies,” Ava finishes for her mother. “Dad promised to get Shadow Haven back, then Cort promised to get us real puppies. Be patient.”

Ava’s also seething about something, refusing to speak to me, look at me, or interact with me. Mother and daughter are unhappy this fine Christmas morning. By my estimation, drunk Mommy spilled whatever was up her ass to our nosy daughter.

Cortez made the mistake to ask if they were both on their period– now neither of them are speaking to either of us.

We’re trapped together in a tense, confined space, and it would be rude to go our separate ways until after Christmas brunch in the main dining room, followed by a family walk through Misery Castle’s maze, with a few free hours to get our heads on straight, finishing the evening off with a party in the ballroom.

“Maybe those assholes we left behind in the theater last night were right.” Cortez elbows me while biting his lip to contain the laughter threatening to spill.

“They were most certainly onto something, weren’t they?” This is what it feels like to have the estrogen infuriated at the testosterone. An inch big, and we have no idea what we did nor how to fix it. Even the little female is being cranky in solidarity with her mommy and big sister.

“Big doggies.” Marcus Zane pets his stuffed Doberman. The narrowing of the gunmetal eyes isn’t from not getting his living, breathing, shitting and pissing puppy. “My puppy’s name will be Unicorn.”

“Mine’s Demon!” Azrael shouts, sharp tone causing me to wince.

“Monster!” Releasing peels of evil laughter, Ava gets the twins going. “Unicorn, Demon, Monster, and Empathy.”

“How many dogs do you plan on getting them?” is said in a strained voice as I narrow my eyes at Cortez, because that last name is telling, isn’t it? Ava isn’t ignorant, which means Katya most certainly isn’t either.

Zane’s existence is kept secret for his own protection and longevity. Between being the heir to several multi-billion-dollar thrones, his empathy puts a target on his back from governmental agencies and the criminal underworld for their greedy purposes. Now we have a threat targeting those closest to me.

I trust Katya and Ava– this has nothing to do with that, nor me not wishing to claim Zane. I love Zane enough to suffer the consequences of hiding him.

“Cort promised us horses too!” Ava grabs for another wrapped package from beneath the desk, then passes it off to her mother.

Helpless, I try to get Katya to look at me, needing someone with the authority to put a stop to this madness. In reply, she just shrugs, like she could give a shit less that we’re going to end up with a menagerie.

“We have a stable,” is Cort’s brilliant reply. “One of the nicest in the state– seems a waste to not fill it. Think of the employment opportunities we could offer stable hands and horse trainers.”

“Well, as long as we don’t live at Shadow Haven, it’s not really an issue, is it?” Pleased with myself, I get cozy on the sofa, smiling, as my children and Cortez look at me with dawning horror over the fact I could purposefully keep us at Misery Castle indefinitely. Katya still could give a shit less, which is a curiosity.

“Here.” Ava shoves a gift into my hands, acting like I don’t deserve it any longer. “It’s from Mom.” I try to capture Katya’s gaze, but she won’t look at me. In fact, she won’t even look in the general vicinity of where I’m sitting.

The sting of rejection takes away the pleasure of gift-receiving. “I wonder what it could be.” Smiling, fingernail prying up the tape, I tear into the wrapping paper. “Oh, Katya! Thank you. It’s perfect.”

When we went to visit Santa at the mall, everyone was standing around taking pictures with their cellphones as we waited in line. Framed is a picture of Cortez and me with the kids, all wearing goofy facial expressions and reindeer antlers or elf ears.

“I thought it would be cute on your desk at work.” Katya won’t look at me… and now she’s talking to the wall behind our bed. “When your patients test your patience, you can look at your family and realize it’s all worth it.”

“Where’s the one we took with you?” Aching to reach forward and hold her hand, I don’t understand Katya sometimes. But the back off message is loud and clear this morning. “Grant took it for us.”

“A few of us were blinking it that one– this one is perfect.” Busying herself, Katya reaches beneath the desk for the last package. “Here,” is said exactly as Ava said to me, only to Cortez this time. “We tried hard. The kids helped me with this one.”

Gleeful, because there isn’t much Cortez loves better than getting presents, he tears into the package, looking just like Azrael did earlier. “Oh! I’ve always wanted one of these.” Cort hugs a slim box to his chest, and I catch sight of a picture of a device printed on the top.

“Ava and I wrote down all the titles we could remember seeing in Shadow Haven’s library.” Katya won’t look at Cortez, but she does touch him. For the first time, I’m jealous over Katya resting her hand on Cort’s shoulder, fingertips squeezing gently.

“Mom bought and downloaded every book we could remember onto the Kindle.” Ava’s mad, but also not mad enough to not kiss Cort’s cheek.

I receive no smiles, no shoulder rubs, and no kisses to my cheeks.

What happened last night while Cort and I were in the tent?

What’d I do? I’ve behaved– I know I have, since I’ve been even this entire time.

Confusion clouds my mind as I try to catalog anything that would hurt Katya over the past few months. I know she’s probably upset about Dalton and Whitt, but we negotiated, and I haven’t had sex with them. A few accidental orgasms on my part, but no touching, sucking, or penetrative sex.

In the background, as I test the inner walls of my psyche, Katya and Ava chat books with Cortez, all three becoming animated, which I’ve always appreciated how they share their love of books. Azrael collects all the gifts, hoarding them for herself, while Marcus Zane creates a wrapping paper snowball, finding garbage and boxes to be more creatively stimulating than expensive toys.

Zane is my only explanation as to why Katya and Ava are upset, and I can understand that. It’s a big secret to keep. Katya asked me a few months ago, and I was terrified something would happen to my son, so I brushed it off.

The biggest reason for the secrecy is because I’m trying to protect Katya from Dominion itself, along with Ma?tre du Jeu. Faith had wanted to bring Katya in from the get-go, even way back to when I first contacted Katya via the internet.

I’m trying to be respectful of Katya’s personality. She’s kind and compassionate. Justice-minded. She grew up in a different area, with different values, and she’s been uncomfortable in this affluent lifestyle. Katya and MdJ are oil and water– she wouldn’t understand nor respect what the founders believe in.

Dominion first.

In an effort to maintain Katya’s sanity and continual survival, I’ve put up a wall between anything pertaining to MdJ and her. I have a feeling it’s about to come crashing back down on me.

“How about you guys play with the kids this morning,” Katya’s words filter in as I keep mulling over the consequences of my own actions. “Ava and I need some girl time to get ready for tonight’s party.”

“Wait.” My palm goes up to stop everyone from talking, even the twins freeze their movements on the carpet. “What? You’re not going to the party.”

The silence is thick with tension as Katya steps toward me, arcing around where Marcus Zane is tying ribbons around his wrapping paper snowball. That nightgown brushes my bare feet, drawing me back weeks ago to where we had a fiery fight in this same room, where everything was ignored and never spoken of again.

“Let me get this straight.” Now Katya looks me in the eyes, green fiery hatred burning back at me. “You’re disinviting me to a party being hosted in the ballroom of this residence– the residence I’ve dwelled in for the past seven months –when you neither hosted nor invited me in the first place? A party in which my husband, our children, and our shared partner is attending? Did I hear you correctly?”

“Yes.”

“Let me repeat this, so we all get it straight, as I fear I misheard you.” Katya steps forward a scant inch, managing to intimidate me further. She’s gotten more powerful lately, like she truly wishes to murder me in my sleep. “You’re disinviting me to a party being hosted in the ballroom of this residence– the residence I’ve dwelled in for the past seven months –when you neither hosted nor invited me in the first place? A party in which my husband, our children, and our shared partner is attending? Did I hear you correctly?”

“Yes, that’s what I said.” Coward that I am can’t speak the truth, where I’m terrified of all my secrets and lies catching up with me at the party, knowing Katya will never forgive me. “I said you’re not going to the Christmas party in the ballroom tonight.”

“From that exchange, what I heard you say to me, Dr. Zeitler.” Katya touches me. By touch, I mean she palms the top of my head, refusing to allow me to look away. “I heard you tell me in front of Cortez and our children, how I am not an integral member of this family, nor welcome in this home.”

“Katya!” is shouted as I land back on the sofa. Before I can upright myself, she’s already out in the hallway to parts unknown.

“Good job, Dad!” sounds a lot like fuck you, jerk-face when coming out of a fourteen-year-old’s mouth. Ava pursuits her mother, leaving us behind.

“You’re going to wish you hadn’t said that.” Great, now I’ve even managed to piss off Cortez, which isn’t hard to do in the first place.

“As long as Katya doesn’t go, I don’t care.” At a loss, sounding cruel, I stare down at Marcus Zane and pretend the little boy isn’t staring up at me with disappointment. He’s three– I’ll assume it’s my own regret mirrored back at me.

“It’s Katya.” Cortez stands from the sofa, then begins to pick up, which means he’s truly pissed at me, as he’s the laziest person I’ve ever met. “It took years for her to trust that when we were invited to an event so was she. Remember how she wasn’t going to go to your birthday party because we didn’t personally invite her.”

“I remember,” is breathed without sound, instinctively knowing I’ve done irreparable harm.

“All those reassurances just went to shit, didn’t they?” Cort swats me upside the head with an empty garment box. “All for naught. Now Katya will truly believe she was never invited. To. Anything.”

“I. Get. It.” Fingers turning to claws, I can sense Master Ez trying to break off from our solid whole, and we cannot have that. “The ends justify the means when it pertains to Katya and MdJ coming face-to-face.”

“Way to learn from your past mistakes.” This time, I’m pretty sure it was flesh, not a box that hits me upside the head. “How’d it work out for you when you purposefully withheld knowledge about MdJ with me, when it was an eventuality? Because you just repeated that bullshit with Katya.”

“I’m an asshole– I get it.”

“And I want a divorce.” Cort gives me a heart attack. Not figuratively. My heart stutters, then ceases to beat. “We only have room for two in this marriage. It’s either me or Katya. You pick.”

“What. The. Fuck?” rushes out in breathless gasps of insanity as Ezra and Master Ez tear my psyche apart.

Cortez glares at me as he places a twin on each of his hips. “Put us out of our misery, Ezra. Do it now, before this gets worse. It’s not working. Choose.”

“I can’t!” Fingers gripping what little hair they can, I yank with all my might, ripping myself apart like I am on the inside.

“You will.” Cortez steps around the sofa, making for the door. “Because either you choose, or you’ll lose both of us.”

“Don’t do this, Cortez!” Rocking back and forth, fingers tearing clumps of hair from my head, I behave as most mental patients do. “I can’t. I can’t. I won’t. I refuse. I am doing well, don’t force me to regress into who I never want to be again.”

“Choose, or we’ll choose for you.” Cortez steps over the threshold with a toddler on each hip, standing out in the hallway.

“You and Katya act too much alike– both insecure martyrs,” is mumbled down at my lap, where I’m wringing my fingers. “Don’t do this.”

“By the way, I’m gay.” Cortez drops another bombshell, causing my heart to stop beating altogether. “Merry Christmas, Ezra.”