Where are you Christmas
Why can’t I find you
Why have you gone away
Where is the laughter
You used to bring me
Why can’t I hear music play
– Where Are You Christmas?, Faith Hill

---

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Morgan Penthouse: Master Bathroom

“I did it.”

Jason paused, the toothbrush still in his mouth, catching the reflection of Elizabeth in the mirror, standing in the doorway of the bathroom stifling a yawn. She’d stolen one of his blue t-shirts to use as pajamas, even though the collar always slid down one shoulder. Her hair was still tangled from sleep and her eyes were barely open.

But she was awake at just past five-thirty in the morning. And she was grinning blearily, even as she swayed slightly from fatigue.

“I don’t know why you’re so proud of yourself,” Jason said, after rinsing the toothpaste from his mouth, switching off the faucet. He set his hands on her hips and lifted her onto the counter. “There’s literally no reason to be up this early.”

“Don’t take away my triumph—” Elizabeth wagged her finger in his face. He caught it in his hand and grinned. “It took years of preparation—”

“Is that what we’re calling the last two years of broken alarm clocks?” He grinned, then lifted her into his arms to carry her back into the bedroom, depositing her back in the bed. “Go back to sleep.”

Elizabeth sat up, grumbling. “I think you just like having an hour to yourself before I wake up and start nagging you—”

“You have never, not once in your life, nagged me,” Jason told her, sitting down. “But you’re sleeping for two now. And Cam won’t be up for a while. Enjoy your sleep while you can.”

“No, I’m awake now. Maybe later, though, if you’re free, we could take a nap when Cameron does.” Elizabeth wiggled her eyebrows, and he grinned. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not the one who walks around here without a shirt on. What do you expect a girl to think about?”

“I’m not going to argue with that,” Jason said with a shake of his head, leaning in to kiss her. “But you’re always stealing my shirts to sleep in, so it’s your fault.”

“You’ve caught on to my diabolical plan.” Elizabeth’s fingers slid through his hair, then rested at his collarbone. “Do you ever think about how lucky we are?”

Jason’s brows drew together. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. You just hear about how some people get married and they lose interest. It starts to fade. Especially once they have kids. But I’ve never felt like that. Have you?”

A bit thrown by the topic, Jason leaned across her, planting one hand on the mattress by her hips, her knees brushing against his back. “No. I love you. That’s never changed—”

“No, I mean—oh, this is so stupid. Forget I said anything.” Elizabeth started to sit up, but Jason didn’t budge, trapping her against the headrest and pillows. “Jason—”

“You mean because you’re pregnant? Or—”

“No…” She bit her lip. “You know, I want to be a counselor. I’ve worked so hard to get there, but sometimes I feel like I hear things in the group sessions, and they just sit in my head. I was doing that couples therapy group for a while this fall, and I was just listening to these people who loved each other talk about how it fell apart. They stopped talking and listening to each other. And some of the husbands said they’d lost interest in their wives. Because the novelty was gone, and they realized this was the only woman they’d ever be with. And—” She made a face. “I told you, it was stupid. But it just popped in my head because I don’t know, we do pretty good in that area.”

“I always thought so,” Jason said carefully, unsure if that was the right thing to say.

“And it wasn’t just the guys. Some of the women said it, too. Like, it got boring.” Her eyes were wide. “And I thought, how am I supposed to feel sympathetic? How do I help them? Because I’m married, and I’ve been with you for over three years, and that’s never been an issue. And here we are at five-thirty in the morning, thinking about being together later, and we just were last night—”

“You know what I love about you?” Jason asked, and she broke off her ramblings to look at him with wide eyes. “You never run out of things to worry about.” He kissed the tip of her nose.

“Ugh, you’re making fun of me,” she muttered, slinking down in the bed. “I said it was stupid—”

“It’s not stupid. It’s not,” he said again when she just rolled her eyes. “How many people do we know who are on their second or third marriage?”

“I mean, technically—”

“Technically that doesn’t count, and we’re not bringing him into this,” Jason said, and she nodded. They didn’t often talk about Ric Lansing or the fact that Elizabeth had been married to him briefly, and of course, neither of them mentioned Jason’s insane brief first marriage to Brenda Barrett.

“I want you to talk to me about whatever pops in your head. And I want to be better at doing that, too. Talking to you when I worry,” Jason said. “I know I don’t do that enough. I’m better than I was—”

“I really didn’t mean to make this a whole thing—”

“You didn’t.” He picked up her left hand, sliding his fingers over the ruby engagement ring and matching gold wedding band, then brought her hand to his mouth. “I love you. And I’ll make sure I’m home at Cameron’s naptime.”

She grinned, then wound her arms around his neck. “You know, why wait? He won’t be up for a while, and you want me to stay in bed, don’t you?”

Brownstone: Kitchen

Bobbie set coffee down in front of Carly. “I’d miss mornings like this,” she admitted, taking a seat at the table with her own mug. “But you’re not wrong about outgrowing your apartment upstairs.”

“Truth be told, I’ve been thinking about it for over a year,” Carly said. “The second bedroom was already too small for both the boys when I moved up there, but I wanted to be on my own a little bit. To stop relying so much on you. And it didn’t work. I barely use my own kitchen. I drop the boys at school, and I come right here.”

“Why shouldn’t you? Lucas and Felix still raid my fridge. The fact that both my children still feel free to come and go like they’re not grown—well, it just means I’ve done something right.”

“I couldn’t have made it these last few years without you.” Carly squeezed her mother’s hand. “But I have to start thinking about the future. Sonny refusing to see Jason and me the other day — well, it’s time to stop feeling guilty. That’s the only reason I go, Mama. I feel guilty for enabling him. For going back to him after Morgan was born. You didn’t want me to go—”

“I understood why you did—”

“It set me back months. Years,” Carly said softly. “I’m still having panic attacks. I had one yesterday. AJ saw it,” she added. “And he feels sorry for me again.” She picked up her coffee, sipped it.

“Carly, why didn’t you say something? I would have—”

“It’s—I got past it. And I felt better after I went out. We took the boys to the movies and dinner.” She smiled thinly, staring down into her mug. “He was supposed to have Michael on his own last night, you know. And I found a way to stop it. I don’t think I did it on purpose, but—” She lifted a shoulder. “He says I still treat Michael like an object. He’s right.”

“Carly—”

“And I feel stupid admitting that—there I was congratulating myself on how far I’ve come, you know?” She swiped at a tear sliding down her cheek. “And then I go to the prison, and why did I pick Christmas as the holiday to go? It’s December. Of course I shouldn’t go anywhere near Sonny this month. Why did AJ have to point that out? Was I trying to punish myself? And don’t answer that,” Carly ordered. “You’ll just reassure me, and I’ll be making myself the victim again. I don’t want to do that. I don’t want anyone to keep looking at me like I’m still that idiot who got locked in a room by her husband.”

“You’re the only one doing that, Carly,” Bobbie said gently. “And yes, maybe AJ hasn’t demanded much in the way of custody. But I don’t think it’s so bad that Michael gets to spend so much time with both his parents. I think AJ’s matured a great deal since your divorce. You both have. Sometimes, I have to admit, I’ve wondered—never mind.” She picked up her coffee.

“What? What were you going to say?”

“Well, I’ve wondered if maybe AJ didn’t push on having Michael more to himself is that he liked being you and Michael, and Morgan, too. A family. You look like one sometimes,” Bobbie added.

“Mama, AJ could never forgive me enough for that. And I—” Had forgiven him a long time ago, Carly thought, for that terrible fall down the stairs that hadn’t been anything but a tragic accident brought on by two people too stubborn to let the other have the last word. “That’s never going to happen.”

“Hmmm, well,” Bobbie said with a shrug. “Never is a strong word, honey. I wouldn’t be throwing it around so much.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Carly muttered. “Anyway. After I got over my idiotic panic attack, I realized that it was time to stop going to prison. At least for me, it’s only ever been guilt and obligation. I’m sorry Sonny ended up where he did, but he had chances to make it different. He confessed to murder, Mama. I won’t pretend I didn’t know who he was before I married him, but I read the details of what he did to Oliver Joyce, and it didn’t—” She cleared her throat. “It’s not what I expected. The guy was just trying to protect Scott’s daughter. And he wanted to give Sonny a chance to get out. Sonny murdered him. I’ve been blaming myself for enabling him to the point that he got that  sick. That he snapped the way he did while I was kidnapped, or that night in December, or any of the times he screamed at Elizabeth—but I think I’ve atoned enough for that.”

“More than enough,” Bobbie insisted.

“And so has Jason. He won’t see it, but I need to make him. We’ll both be better off when we put Sonny in the past.”

Port Charles Police Department: Squad Room

Dante emerged from the interrogation room, still half-turned towards the inside of the room, watching a uniformed officer take the suspect out the other door. When he turned towards his desk and saw who was waiting for him, he thought about running in the opposite direction.

Which was not how he used to feel when he saw Lulu waiting for him. The last two months before they’d finally taken this break had been rocky. They’d done nothing but fight over every little thing — but now that Dante had decided that it was time to make the break final, he realized how much he wished there was another way.

He wished he wanted something else.

“Uh, hey.” Lulu rose from the chair, her smile hesitant as he approached. “Um, sorry for just showing up. But I had some time before I went to work, so I just…” Her smile faded. “But you’re busy, aren’t you? And is this a bad time?”

“It’s not. I just don’t know why you’re here.” Dante walked past her to his desk, set down the case folder. “What did you want?”

“I…Maxie told me about your grandmother. I’m so sorry, Dante—” Lulu reached out, as if to stroke his arm but he moved away at the last moment, leaving her hand in space. “Dante—”

“Why are you here?” he repeated. “To comfort me about my grandmother? I haven’t spoken to her in years, Lu.”

“I know, but you always get a little sad around this time of year because of everything that happened. I wish you’d called me or something,” she said, and his jaw clenched at this reminder of their history together. Of how he’d first noticed her. She’d just been the waitress at Kelly’s, his best friend’s younger sister. And then she’d been there when he’d prepared to testify against Vinnie, his own cousin. When he’d gone against his family. When his whole world had fallen apart. Lulu had been the one to keep him centered.

How could she not want a future with him? How could they be so perfect for each other and not want the same things?

“You wanted space, Lu. You don’t get to complain now that I’ve given it to you. I have a lot of work to do—”

Lulu pressed her lips together. “You’re punishing me again for not wanting kids, and that’s not fair! There’s nothing wrong with not wanting kids—”

“I didn’t say there was. I just—” Dante shook his head. “No. We’re not having this argument again. We’re not. I don’t have time. I have reports to file before I leave tomorrow. And before you go pry the information out of someone else, yeah, I’m driving down with my mother. Is that what you wanted to know?”

Her eyes shimmered with tears, and he looked away, knowing he was being too harsh. That he was too angry, too ticked off with her for not wanting what he did — it was all unfair, and he was being an asshole. He just didn’t know how to stop.

“Yeah,” she said faintly. “That’s all I wanted to know. Tell your mother I’m sorry for her. I’m sorry for you both.”

She walked away, and Dante nearly followed. But at the last minute he dropped down into his seat, put his head in his hands. If he followed now, he’d cave, and he’d push the question down the road again. Six months. A year. Just like last time. She’d say they were young, and they had all the time in the world ahead of them — why rush? And sure, that would be fine, Dante thought, if he thought another year might change things.

But it wouldn’t. It was never going to change. One of them was going to have to say it out loud to the other. Dante just wasn’t ready for it to be him.

General Hospital: Cafeteria

“Just think, this time next year,” Emily teased, “you and I could be grabbing lunch as colleagues, not just sisters-in-law.” She set her tray on the table across from Elizabeth. “Have you thought about Gail’s offer?”

“I did—and after Lois called me last week to talk about the project they’re trying to get funded…” Elizabeth twisted the top from the water she’d purchased. “I’m really interested. I think of so many people I’ve worked with in the support groups and at school, and even me — how we all would have been better off if there was just a place we could go to talk one on one with someone without worrying about insurance or money.” She shook her head. “But it’s still a long way off. I have to graduate, and the project could fail to get funding—”

“Then Nikolas will pay the rest of it. In fact—” Emily nodded. “I’m going to tell him tonight. He’ll match whatever ELQ donates—” She reached into her pocket. “That reminds me — I have Spencer’s Christmas pictures—”

“And I have Cam’s.” They traded photos of their sons, ten-month-old Spencer looking ridiculously cute posed in an oversized box decorated like a Christmas gift with a Santa hat on his head, little tufts of dark hair sticking out from the white lining. “I can’t stand how stinking cute this is. Did you see Kimi and Trina?”

“We make some cute kids in this family,” Emily said, grinning down at Cam, then sliding it into her pocket. “It’s nice, you know, all of us being a family. I mean we always were,” she added, “but these last few years, it really feels like it. Ever since you and Jason got together, and he started coming around more, the house is always so packed during the holidays.” Her smile dimmed slightly. “And we really need it this year. Losing Grandmother…” She exhaled slowly. “It kills me Spencer won’t know her. Even Cam won’t remember her.”

“I know.” Elizabeth bit her lip. “She just kept…going. I remember when Jason and I got married, I felt sure we’d lose her by the end of the year. But she was still here to meet Spencer. I’m glad she lived long enough to see him. But I miss her.”

“Our first Christmas without her.” Emily took a deep breath. “But she’s here in a lot of ways. That’s all that matters.” She stabbed a fork in her salad. “How did Jason’s visit upstate go? Sonny as miserable ever?”

“It didn’t. Sonny refused to see Jason and Carly. Can you believe it? He let them drive all the way up there,” Elizabeth muttered, “and then denied it. Jason doesn’t seem mad about it, but you know he doesn’t really ever talk about Sonny unless he has to.” She shook her head. “I don’t know. I think it’s bothering him more than he’ll admit, but I don’t really know how to get inside his head on this with forcing it, and I hate doing that.”

“My brother is a better human than me because after everything Sonny put you guys through, the fact that he still visits him—” Emily scowled. “Well, I know I couldn’t do it. And you put up with it—”

“I put up with a lot worse before Sonny went to prison,” Elizabeth reminded her, and Emily made a face, then nodded. “It’s guilt, mostly, I think. Jason blames himself for how bad it got. For what happened to me. For enabling Sonny—”

“Sonny was an adult who made his choices. I just wish Jason and even Carly would put him in the past.”

“I know—” Elizabeth pulled out her vibrating cell. “Speaking of Carly—” She tapped a button to answer the call. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Hey. Sorry to bother you. I know it’s probably a crazy time of year,” Carly began, “but I was hoping you’d stop by the Cellar on your way home. There’s something I wanted to talk to you about.”

Luke’s: Bar

It was still happy hour when Dante got to the bar that night, and he nearly turned back when he saw Lucky behind the bar. Though Lucky was his best friend, Dante had been avoiding for him weeks outside of work. He didn’t want any uncomfortable questions about Lulu, and tonight, all Dante wanted was to black out. But it was too late to back out and go somewhere else.

Dante dropped onto a stool next to Lucas Jones and slapped a twenty down. “Bring me all the vodka you have.”

Lucas snorted, his fingers wrapped around the neck of a bottle of Michelob. “You and Maxie hang out way too much.”

Dante rolled his eyes. “She stole that from me,” he retorted, snatching up the shot Lucky poured for him. “Tell her to write her own material.”

“Do I get to ask why you want to drink your weight in vodka or are we still pretending we don’t know each other?” Lucky asked dryly. He refilled Dante’s shot and sat a bottle down next to it.

“That depends,” Dante said, sourly, picking up the shot. “Are you still pretending you’re not married?”

Felix DuBois, sitting on the other side of Lucas, whistled when Lucky’s expression creased into a scowl. “Oh, damn, shots fired.” He twisted his stool to get a better look.

“What the hell does that mean?” Lucky demanded.

“I don’t know. Why are you still at the bar, picking up shifts when you damn well don’t need the money?” Dante finished the second shot. “And Kelsey’s been sending me work shit after the courts close, so I know she’s not at home either. I mean, what, are you the only one allowed to make smart ass remarks?”

“As much fun as this is,” Lucas said, cutting Lucky off even as he opened his mouth to snap back. “Let’s just not. Dante, I’m sorry about your grandmother—”

“Does everyone know?” Dante threw up his hands. “You know, maybe we all hang out too much.” He grabbed the neck of the vodka bottle Lucky had left on the bar and started towards an empty table.

“I’ll take this one,” Felix said, sliding off the stool, and following.

“You don’t take hints very well, do you?” Dante muttered when Felix sat across from him, drink in hand. “I want to be alone.”

“Yeah, no shit. Dillon mentioned it to Maxie, who told Lulu, if you were wondering how she knew. I figure that’s why you’re ticked. And when that went south, Maxie called Lucas, figuring you’d find your way here. So, really, blame Maxie for knowing you too well.”

Dante grimaced. “The point of taking a break—”

“—is to take a break. But you’re telling me you wouldn’t want to know if Lulu’s mom got sick? Or her dad was in the hospital? Does taking a break mean you stop caring about each other? Lu would have been devastated if she learned it from the paper or some random customer.” Felix shrugged.

Dante wanted to be angrier – wanted to be furious that his friends didn’t know when to back off, but Felix was just the messenger. The mediator. It was the role he and Lucas always adopted, and he wondered if there’d been a divide and conquer strategy tonigh.t Felix was over here, which meant—

“Maxie figured I’d be here. And if I knew Lucky was here, that means—”

Felix raised his drink. “Lucas is doing his job at the bar. We’re not happy hour regulars, which you know. Lucky and Kelsey’s…situation has not gone unnoticed and if you hadn’t ditched the last meeting—”

“Lunch at Kelly’s was a meeting?” But Dante was smiling now.

“Maxie had an agenda and everything. Lucky’s mom sent up the smoke signal, Bobbie gave Lucas the job, and Maxie came up with the plan. That girl ever turns her attention to world domination, we’re going to have a problem.” Felix paused. “I don’t want to turn around and give it away, but you’re facing the bar. How’s it going?”

“Uh—” Dante glanced, and saw Lucas talking, jabbing a finger in Lucky’s direction. “Hard to say. Lucky hasn’t cracked a bottle over Lucas’s head yet, so—”

“All right, then.” Felix sipped his drink. “Now, on item 2.”

“What was item 1?”

Felix dug in his pocket, showed Dante his notes. “I thought you’d enjoy this.”

Dante recognized Maxie’s scrawl. “‘Number one, get Dante to chill out about Lu. She has a right to know, and he needs to pull his boxers out of his butt.’ Ha. Funny.”

“It’s a little spooky how well she knows us, to be honest.”

“It really is,” Dante murmured. “‘Number two, cheer Dante up. Bio families are stupid a lot of the time and they don’t always come through. Make him remember how awesome chosen family is, and I like shiny things in case he’s looking for Christmas presents.’” He snorted and slid the paper back to Felix. “I already got her present, but thanks.”

“She’s right, you know. About blood families. Mine never disowned me, you know. Not officially.”

“No? You never go to see them.”

“No point. I came out to them after I graduated high school. I wasn’t going to,” Felix said, “but I knew I was going away to college, and I wanted to, you know, be myself. Be out. The best I could. And I worried it would get back to them, so I told them right before I left for school and I thought they’d accepted it. I spent my entire first semester figuring it was all good. But then I got home at Christmas.” Felix stared into his drink for a minute.

“What happened?”

“They ignored it. Pretended I never said anything. Asked if I’d met any nice girls I could bring home.” Felix’s expression was somber. “And it told me what I needed to know. I could keep telling them, force them to acknowledge it, but then I’d just be making us both miserable. They don’t want to know.”

“Yeah.” Dante exhaled slowly. “Yeah, I get that. By the time I testified, you know, my grandmother knew it was true. Aunt Frannie—she’ll never believe it. She still thinks the PCPD framed Vinnie, made him a scapegoat. But Grandma knew. She knew what he was, and she still froze me out.”

“People will always find a way to ignore reality,” Felix said. “Last time I went home, I tried one more time. It was the year after Lucas and I started living together. I told them about Lucas. That I loved him.” He exhaled slowly. “I don’t go home anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Felix.”

“I miss them, sometimes. The idea of who my parents were. And could be. But it’s okay. It is,” he insisted, as if Dante had argued with him. “I came here, and I met Lucas. And his family. His parents are good to me. And his friends just let me in like I’d always been here. You know what that’s like. You and Lu started dating, and Maxie took you in.”

“Before we started dating,” Dante murmured. “When the news about my father hit the papers, Maxie and Georgie were running interference.”

“I’m sorry your grandmother passed away before she could change her mind, Dante. But you made the right decision back then. That’s all you can ever do.”

“Yeah, I know. And I don’t regret it. I had to stand up for those girls. For Brooke. I had to make sure he would never get away with it.” Dante shook his head. “I’m sorry your family doesn’t to be part of your life, Felix. I hope they see it one day.”

“They won’t. And I’ll live with it. I’ve already done a good job at that. I’ve got a man who loves me, and who wants a future with me. That’s enough.”

Dante nodded. “Yeah, I get that. Vinnie’s going to rot in jail. He’ll never hurt another girl. That’s enough for me.” He straightened, his eye on something at the bar. “Uh oh.”

Felix twisted in his seat to see Lucky say something to Lucas, then stalk away from the bar. “That can’t be good.”

Quartermaine Estate: Family Room

AJ set the Christmas photo of Michael and Morgan on the mantel, y replacing the double frame with their most recent school photos—Morgan’s first, as he’d started at a private nursery school that fall.

Behind him, Ned came in, a frame in his hands. He paused and offered a hesitant smile. “I guess we had the same idea.” He held up his own — Kristina. AJ stepped aside so Ned could do his own swap. Most of the photos changed with the seasons, updating as the youngest members grew older and the family expanded.

The only photo that hadn’t changed was Lila’s. Taken the previous Christmas with her great-grandchildren gathered around her, Lila smiling proudly as Michael leaned against her wheelchair on one side, and Cameron and Kristina were seated at her feet. AJ wondered if Ned was thinking about the great-granddaughter missing from the portrait — Brooke. But he said nothing.

“Alan said you’d talked to Carly,” Ned said, sliding his hands in his pockets. “That you’d have Michael this year. I’m surprised. You don’t normally ask.”

“I always thought she’d say no,” AJ murmured. He exhaled slowly, looked towards the Christmas tree. “She didn’t. She agreed. But she mentioned Morgan, and I thought…well, maybe it’s selfish of me. Michael’s always celebrated with his little brother. Taking him away from all that just so I can have a morning—” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m having second thoughts.”

“It’s just one Christmas—”

“I took them to see that penguin movie last night,” AJ interrupted. “Carly and Morgan went with us. And I was thinking — maybe I don’t need Michael to come here. I know Mom and Dad want that, but—” He looked at Ned. “Maybe I could just go there. Sleep on the sofa or something or take the guest room at Bobbie’s place. All I want is to see Michael on Christmas morning. I don’t care where it is. Morgan’s still a little kid. I don’t want to wreck his day.”

“He’s three. He won’t even remember—and he’s not your responsibility,” Ned reminded AJ. He wandered back to the mantel, considered the school photos. “But he probably knows you better than he knows his own father. You spend a lot of time with him, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I guess.” AJ frowned. “What’s your point?”

“Just an interesting kind of karma, don’t you think? You’re playing father figure to Sonny’s son after he took yours away from you. I have to admit, I’ve wandered if that’s been deliberate,” Ned admitted. AJ looked at him, sharply.

“What does that mean?”

“If maybe you didn’t fight Carly so hard on having Michael here more because you liked the idea of Morgan looking up to you.”

“You think I’m manipulating the situation? To do what? To make Carly’s son like me?” AJ asked skeptically. “To what end? Sonny’s gone. He’ll be serving at least another twelve or thirteen years. What’s the point?”

“To make Carly rely on you. Care about you.” Ned tipped his head. “Don’t tell me it’s never occurred to you that you could use this to your advantage. A few right words, kind gestures, you could get them all right where you want them. Back in this house. And then you have Michael full-time. Just like before. With no Jason or Sonny to mess things up this time.”

AJ scowled. “Do you really think I’d be that calculating? Sure, Carly and I are friends now. And we worked hard to get there. And, okay, yeah, I care about Morgan. He’s Michael’s brother, and his father’s out of the picture. But you’re way off here, Ned. There’s no way I’d use those kids to manipulate Carly into anything more just to have my kid full-time. I’d never do that to those kids. Or to Carly. Way off base.”

He stormed out of the room, and Ned just smirked. AJ might not be manipulating the situation with Carly, but Ned had no qualms about doing it. Someone needed to push AJ to see what was right in front of his face.

Lucky & Kelsey’s Apartment: Living Room

Lucky slammed the door behind him, was in the process of ripping off his coat when he saw Kelsey sitting at the island counter in the kitchen area. He froze. “Oh. Hey. I thought you were working late.”

“I thought you were picking up a shift at your dad’s.” Kelsey slid off the stool, crossed her arms a bit protectively. “You, um, look mad. Is everything okay?”

“Yeah.” Lucky exhaled slowly, his irritation fading. He hung up the jacket. “Yeah. Just decided to take off early.” He looked back to the living room, where the artificial tree was still not yet put together. It was the first time he and Kelsey had been home together in evening for a few weeks.

He nearly went into the bedroom, to switch on the television, and avoid Kelsey all together.

But Lucas’s last words lingered in his mind. You’re running from whatever is going on. Running and hiding. Just like your father.

Lucky didn’t run. And he didn’t hide.

“We should finish putting this together,” Lucky said, striding towards the tree box, flipping the flaps back. “Or put it back in storage.”

“Which one do you want to do?” Kelsey asked, and he looked at her. At the woman he’d loved for so long, his wife. He’d proposed to her at Christmas, two years earlier. And they’d married just after New Year’s this year. Life had been perfect. He’d never once had a doubt that Kelsey was the woman he was supposed to spend the rest of his life with.

And no matter what Lucas thought, that hadn’t changed.

“I want to put up the Christmas tree,” Lucky said finally. “But I need help. I can’t do it alone.”

Standing across the room, her pretty brown eyes shimmered with tears, and he hoped it meant that she’d heard all the words he wasn’t saying. He didn’t know how to put together what they’d broke, but he wanted to try.

“You never could put it up straight without me,” Kelsey said, finally. She slowly crossed the room to stand beside him. “So, um, let’s go ahead and finish the tree.” She bit her lip, looked up at him. “Better late than never, right?”

“Right.” Lucky reached for her hand, kissed the inside of her palm. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Morgan Penthouse: Living Room

The stress and irritation of the day melted away the moment Jason stepped inside the penthouse that night, grinning when he saw Elizabeth holding Cameron, pretending to dance with him as Christmas music played in the background.

“I’m Mr. White Christmas,” she sang in her sweet, off-key tone, “I’m Mr. Snow. I’m Mr. Icicle—” Cameron was giggling as she swept him in another turn. She halted when she saw Jason, and her cheeks flushed.

“Daddy, daddy—” He squirmed, and Elizabeth let him down so that he could dash over to his father, a run he couldn’t have managed even three months earlier. Jason caught him up in his own arms, holding Cameron tight. “You home.”

“I’m home. I missed you,” Jason said. “You and Mommy dancing?”

“Mommy sing.” Cameron turned to his mother, held out his little fingers. “Sing Snow song.”

“Oh, Daddy does not want to hear me singing more,” Elizabeth said, laughing. She crossed the living room, leaned up to kiss him briefly. “But you know the song, Cam. Why don’t you sing?”

Cameron furrowed his brow, listened to the song. “He Mr. Snow. Ten Low—” he continued to trying to keep up with the lyrics, some of them garbled, but some were more comprehensible. When the song drew to a close, he clapped his hands. “Tada! I sing!”

“You did such a good job.” Elizabeth kissed Cameron’s cheek. “Go watch the movie and let me know when the next song comes on.” Jason set him down and Cameron ran back to the television, staring up at the screen. “I can’t believe it. He’s doing better every single day. A year ago—” She closed her eyes took a deep breath, and Jason drew her against him, remembering their despair the previous Christmas. Cameron hadn’t learned to speak more than a handful of words. He could pull himself up and walk a little, but he wasn’t able to get very far.

The doctors had told them Cameron might plateau for a while — they might need to think about speech therapy, and maybe some occupational therapy to encourage him to walk—

But then, he’d just blossomed over the spring and summer and now, as this Christmas approached—

“I’m sorry.” Elizabeth patted his chest, stepped back, swiping at her eyes. “Everything is getting to me lately. I cried at the commercials earlier.”

“He amazes me, too,” Jason assured her. He removed his jacket, and as always, picked up the coat she’d left hooked over the desk chair with Cameron’s underneath. He hung up everything in the closet. “How are you feeling? Other than the crying,” he added, taking her hand, leading her towards the sofa.

“Surprisingly good, considering—” She pressed a hand to her chest. “You know, if Monica hadn’t run that test, and I hadn’t had that panic attack, I’m not sure I’d even know anything was wrong.” She held out her hand. “Go ahead, check.”

He smiled faintly, but pressed two fingers against her wrist, a familiar but old practice. Jason hadn’t felt the need to check her vitals every hour in more than two years. And she was right — her pulse was normal. “Well, she said it was a small clot.”

“And there’s a chance the extra meds could break it up even before I have to check into the hospital.” Elizabeth cuddled against his side. “I’m choosing to believe in the good this year.”

“Me, too.” He kissed the top of her head, then focused on Cameron watching his Christmas movie in rapt silence. “I didn’t know being obsessed with Christmas could be genetic.”

“Ha. Funny.” Elizabeth sat up as the special went to commercial. “I, um, talked to Carly earlier today. She told me that Sonny had you removed from the visitors list. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Jason shook his head. “It doesn’t matter—”

“Jason.”

“It doesn’t.” Jason rose from the sofa. “It’s my turn to deal with dinner. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

“Oh no, you don’t—” Elizabeth sprang up and caught up to him just as he passed the Christmas tree. “Jason.”

“I don’t want to get into this today, okay?” He gently removed her hand from his arm. “This is your favorite holiday, and Cameron—”

“And you go see Sonny every Christmas, Jason. This year, he didn’t just refuse to see you. He waited until you were at the prison to refuse to do it. He wasted your time, and he knew he was doing it. And now he’s made sure you can’t go back. Why can’t we talk about this? And don’t blame Christmas. It’s still four days away.”

“Well, then maybe it should be enough that I don’t want to talk about it—especially not right now—”

“Because you’re relieved,” Elizabeth said softly, and he closed his mouth, looked at her. “That’s why you’re not talking about it. Carly said once she was done with a panic attack, she realized she was relieved. Because now she doesn’t have to feel guilty about not going back next year. Sonny took the decision out of her hands. Out of yours. And you were relieved. So now you feel guilty about it.”

Jason looked away, stared blindly at a spot on the wall above the television screen. “If you already know, why are we having this conversation?”

“Because I wish you didn’t feel guilty. You shouldn’t. No one could have done more for Sonny than you did. You know that, Jason. Why can’t you forgive yourself for what happened to him? For where he ended up? You tried to get him a lawyer to plead it down, but he refused. He removed himself from his family, from his friends. And he keeps doing it. He has no one to blame but himself.”

“It must nice to be able to write people off so easily,” Jason said flatly. When she just stared at him, he muttered something under his breath, looked away. “I know all the reasons I shouldn’t feel this way,'” he admitted, fisting his hands. “But I do. I’m sorry if that bothers you. It’s just how it is.”

“It doesn’t—”

“Mommy, Daddy—” Cameron smacked the coffee table to get their attention. “Song. Look. They sing more.” He held up his arms, and Jason realized he wanted to be held. For one of them to swing him around.

Eager to be done from the conversation, Jason swung Cameron up into his arms. “Do you know this song, Cam? Can you sing?”

Cameron warbled out some words that sort of matched the rhythm of the song, squealing with laughter when Jason tossed him in the air. “Yay! Higher!”

When the song was over, Jason set Cameron back down and the toddler kept twirling around in dizzying circles.

“I don’t want to fight.” Elizabeth slid her arms around his waist, leaning into his side. He sighed, pulled her closer. “I love you.”

“I love you, too. I just need to sit with this, okay?”

“All right.” She patted his chest before going to stop Cameron from losing his balance. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s find another Christmas special to watch. How about Frosty?”

“Yay, Frosty!”

 

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In case anyone was wondering, Elizabeth and Cameron were singing songs from The Year Without a Santa Claus.

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