I gently put down the clear globe I had in my hands and I waited, feeling like I had been through a firing squad.
“I put up a Christmas tree for a lot of reasons but mainly because it was the very last thing I ever did with my mother. She and I would buy one together and decorate it. It’s the very last happy memory I have. I’m sorry if my need for this brought out something that obviously is fucked up in you.” I bit the inside of my lip and headed upstairs, but stopped at the very first step. “I really don’t get you. I think you’re an asshole most of the time, but then you do something like this.” I pointed to the tree. “And I think, wow he has a kindness about him. But you always find a way to just fuck it all up, Daimon-style,” I barked and left.
I stepped out of the bathroom ready for bed. The enigma that was Daimon was someone I didn’t think I would ever understand. He could be thoughtful and understanding, but he could be cruel and hateful. His words, even though I tried desperately to wash away, lingered inside my mind. I lay down onto the bed and pulled back the duvet. It had been a month since I married Daimon and I was already exhausted by him. The thought of three years was enough to make me want to give up and sever the contract.
The moment Daimon walked into the bedroom I turned my body to face the window next to me. I could barely feel the bed dip as he sat down.
“I’m sorry,” he said ruefully. “Christmas isn’t easy for me.”
“Well, it isn’t easy for me either,” I said softly.
I was startled the moment Daimon’s arm wrapped itself around me.
“I’m not going to bite,” he said flatly.
“You did before,” I fired back, fighting my tears.
“I know. I know,” he whispered as he hugged me. His very smell tickled my nose. His other arm slid from underneath me and coiled itself around my waist. Daimon held me. His head nestled in the back of my neck. I felt safe, warm, protected. We fell asleep, nursing our open wounds. The very wounds we inflicted on each other.
Christmas
It was early Christmas morning. I made Daimon and Drako a special Christmas breakfast. Even the Grinch deserved a special meal. The both of them entered the kitchen, one looked very crabby. Yeah, Daimon was a total Grinch, while the other looked like his faithful dog Max. I laughed at the irony.
“What’s this?” Daimon asked, his hair messy and very sexy as he stood at the dining room table.
“Food. I made you guys breakfast.” I smiled, trying to be cheerful, which was difficult since I was forced to go to Daimon’s Christmas party the following night. He gave me a one-day warning, like I had nothing else to do. I wanted to see my father at least.
“Hey!” I cried out when I saw him give Drako a piece of French toast. “What are you doing?”
“I’m having Drako test the food. If he lives, then I’ll eat.” He smiled his devilish little grin.
“Fine! Don’t eat it,” I huffed as I took his plate away.
“Relax, I was just joking.” He laughed and took back his plate.
I watched as both of them ate. Drako loved his baked doggie treat, while Daimon seemed to love the various little treats I had made.
“Do I really have to go tomorrow night?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said as he took his coffee cup.
“I was planning on seeing my dad,” I said, hoping he’d relent.
“Go today,” he said.
“But today is Tuesday,” I said, remembering our deal.
“We’ll go together. Call him and make sure to let him know we are going over.”
“Really?” I said, stunned.
“I’m an asshole, but sometimes I’m not.”
I giggled, remembering my gift for him under the tree.
“Come on, Drako. Let’s see what Santa got you this year.” I patted my legs as I walked over to the tree.
“You seriously got the dog a gift?” he mocked.
“It’s a stupid chew toy that’s good for his teeth.” I sat down and gave him the bone shaped toy. Drako took it and ran around the house, finally settling down in a quiet spot and began chewing on it.
“Come on, Grinch, you too,” I said, motioning for him to come and sit down next to me.
“I don’t do gifts,” he said dryly.
“Yes, I know, but I do, so sit your ass down.” I pointed to the couch. He begrudgingly stood up, headed to the couch and sat down. I took out a nicely gift-wrapped box and gave it to him.
“I’m assuming it’s not a hot woman,” he smiled as he shook the box.
“Shut up and open it.”
He ripped the box open to find a t-shirt. “Did you seriously get me a t-shirt that says I’m an asshole?” He took it out and examined the grey t-shirt. When I’d spotted it, I couldn’t resist how perfect it was for him.