Page 115 of Smoky Mountain Dreams

Chapter Twenty-two

ITWAS STARTING OUT TObe a magical Saturday as far as Christopher wasconcerned. He yawned and stretched, luxuriating in the soft sheets that were surelya much higher thread count than he could ever afford. Jesse had complainedabout the guest room bed, but Christopher thought it was just fine.

He’d gone home on Friday afternoon to get some clothes andwater the plants, but he’d returned to spend the evening with Jesse and thekids, making dinner and watching movies together. Brigid had been quiet, butnot hostile. She’d even said goodnight to Christopher when she went to bed.Progress had definitely been made.

Jesse had planned a busy Christmas-prep Saturday—tree andwreath choosing, putting lights on the house, and tree trimming that night.Because getting all of that accomplished meant getting an early start—andbecause they couldn’t seem to find any motivation to spend much timeapart—Christopher had stayed over in the guest room. Once the kids were bothasleep, Jesse had joined him and they’d made love, cuddled, and slept in eachother’s arms until the alarm on Jesse’s phone went off.

Jesse was downstairs now, starting breakfast before the kidsgot up. Christopher was so warm and relaxed, and his entire body so satisfiedfrom the prior night’s pleasure, that he allowed himself to drift for a whilein the bed, holding on to the pillow Jesse had used and even smelling it like alovesick teenager. Eventually, the sounds of Jesse moving in the kitchen andthen the pounding of heels down the stairs roused him enough to get up.

By the time Christopher had showered and dressed, the kidswere downstairs in their pajamas chomping on the perfectly crisp strips ofdelicious bacon and drizzling syrup over the amazing-smelling pancakes Jessehad cooked up.

“Rise and shine, sleepy head!” Jesse sang, placing a fullplate of bacon in the middle of the kitchen table. “Help yourself. And how dolike your eggs?”

“Hatched,” Christopher said, rubbing his eyes sleepily.Jesse looked confused and Christopher laughed. “I love chicken but hate eggs.”

“High five, bro,” Will said, holding up his sticky hand, abacon slice sticking halfway out of his mouth and dripping with maple syrup.Christopher smacked his palm and grinned.

“Setting a bad example for my kids.” Jesse tsked beforewinking at him. “Coffee and milk are on the table. OJ is in the fridge if youprefer that.”

“Coffee,” Christopher said, solemnly. As he poured it intohis mug, he broke into song, a spontaneous ditty inspired by the well ofcontentment in his heart.

“Oh, Coffee. She’s all I need, my sweetCoffee. The girl of my dreams.”

Will snorted, and Brigid gave a little chuckle. Jessegrinned as he flipped another pancake on the griddle.

Encouraged, Christopher went on.

“Oh, Coffee, she’s so pretty.

My Coffee, so smart and witty.

Oh, wait!

That’s what coffee does for meeeee!

So I’m down on bended knee, sayin’,

oh, pretty please.

Dear, Coffee, won’t you marry me?”

He beat a soft ending drum roll on the table as Willcheered. Brigid laughed softly, but then ducked her head.

Jesse put down a plate of pancakes in the middle of thetable before applauding. “Tonight you’ll have to play something for us on thepiano while we’re working.”

“Carols. Sure thing. I know a ton of them.”

“Okay. But some of your own songs too,” Jesse said. “I likethem.”

Christopher paused in pouring maple syrup over his pancakes.He wanted to play his music for Jesse again, but not for the kids. It was aspecial thing between them, intimate and almost sexual in its spiritualcommunion. He didn’t think he could play the songs with the kids around. Notwhen all he could think about when he did was Jesse on his knees by the piano,eyes closed, palms up, and surrender on his face, or Jesse in his arms, lickinginto his mouth as final notes still vibrated in the piano.

“Well?” Jesse asked.

“I only play those for a private audience.”

Jesse’s eyes flashed hot with recognition of what Christopherwasn’t saying, and his lips turned up in a knowing smile. “I can arrange that.”

“Then it’s a deal. Carols for decorating.”