Page 71 of King of Pain

We walk side by side, the bustle of the merchant-lined street adding to the festive atmosphere. Strings of lights hang from the trees, twinkling like stars, and street performers fill the air with lively music. I glance over at Chance, who’s taking it all in.

“This is… kind of amazing,” he admits, his voice soft. “We always went to the city for the Christmas street experience. That was fun, but it was big and bustling. Chaotic. This is…”

“Cozier?” I offer, watching him take another look around.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” he says with a warm smile, his voice carrying a note of contentment.

We stop by my favorite winter vendor—a small cart tucked into a corner that sells roasted nuts and gourmet hot chocolate. I order us both a cup, and while we wait, the vendor hands me a small paper bag of warm, freshly roasted nuts. The scent alone is intoxicating, the perfect mix of sweet and salty. I hold the bag close to my chest to keep the heat in as we start walking again.

Chance nudges me with his elbow, his grin teasing. “So, do I get to taste your nuts?”

I laugh so hard I almost spill the bag.

“You’re ridiculous,” I say, shaking my head, but inside, I’m warm in a way that has nothing to do with the roasted nuts or the hot chocolate. I realize I’m getting more comfortable with his constant flirting, even looking forward to it. It feels… nice.

As we stroll, Chance peers over at me. “Are you going to tell me what’s on the menu for Christmas dinner, Chef Pacini?”

I smirk, taking a sip of my hot chocolate. “That’s a surprise.”

He groans dramatically. “Come on, give me a hint. Is it lasagna again? Because if it is, I’ll be the happiest man alive.”

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” I say, enjoying his playful frustration. “But I promise it’ll be good.”

“Everything you make is drool-worthy,” he says sincerely. “But honestly,” he adds, his voice softer, “this is the first time since I was a kid that I’m actually looking forward to Christmas.”

I glance at him, surprised. “Same here. It’s been a long time since I’ve been excited for it.”

We walk in comfortable silence for a while, the street alive around us. For the first time in years, I feel like the holiday isn’t something I have to get through—it’s something I can enjoy. And with Chance beside me, it feels like something I can hold on to.

TRACK THIRTY

I Can Dream About You

Chance

I’m standing just outside my apartment door, arms full of shopping bags from the market and last-minute gifts. My phone is tucked between my ear and shoulder as Ma’s warm voice fills the line.

“I’m just about to walk in,” I tell her, juggling the bags to turn the key. “Ant’s been cooking all day again.”

She hums, clearly pleased. “I’m so glad you’re going to have a home-cooked meal... prepared by a hottie, no less.”

“Ma,” I groan, shaking my head as I push the door open. “You did not just say ‘hottie.’”

She laughs, the sound warm and familiar. “On a serious note, Chance, keep giving him the safe space he needs to find himself. Based on what you’ve told me; he’s working through some things. You may not know what they are yet, but I’ll tell you this—a person doesn’t go through the trouble of spoiling someone like he has with you if there aren’t feelings there. Give him time.”

I pause just inside the door, her words striking something deep. “I know, Ma. I know you’re right.”

“You’re a good man, Chance,” she says softly. “Now, what’s he cooking? I bet it smells incredible in there.”

“Oh my gosh, Ma, I wish you could smell it.” The savory scent of garlic, herbs, and roasted meat hits me like a wave. “Ant has outdone himself.”

“Tell that hottie I said hi,” she teases.

Rolling my eyes, I walk into the kitchen where Ant is busy at the stove, a vision of focus and finesse. “It smells marvelous inhere, Ant,” I say, and then add with a smirk, “Also, my mom says hi.”

Ant looks up, his grin wide and infectious. “Oh, hey Ma! Merry Christmas!”

My stomach does a somersault at the casual and comfortable way he calls herMa.