The Magic of Mistletoe

Slightly uncomfortable with the closeness between the two of them, Duke tried to laugh off their friendly banter. She did say that she and Mario were destined to be just friends. “She got a phone for her birthday over the summer,” Macy was explaining as she led Duke into the spacious kitchen, “and half the time the only way we can know what’s going on in her life is through her Tweets.”

Being in the media, Duke was familiar with Twitter. He refused to let everyone know where he was and what he was doing 24/7. As far as he was concerned, there was only one person he’d share that information with. He glanced down at the birthday girl beside him and grinned. “I almost forgot—this is for you.”

Macy took the pink package slowly and shook her head. She bit her bottom lip as she looked down at the bow on the top. Her slim fingers toyed with the edges. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

“Sure I did. It’s your birthday.”

He knew she was going to protest. So he took it from her and set it on the round oak table in the corner of the kitchen. The island in the center of the kitchen was fill

ed with several trays with meat ready for the grill—chicken, steak, hamburgers and hot dogs.

Macy and Duke faced each other. She still held his hand. He could see her chest rising up and down from nervousness—something he adored. She couldn’t fake innocence. “You can open it later,” he whispered into her ear. He deserved an award for not nibbling on her lobes right now. Every inch of his body told him to kiss her, but unfortunately someone interrupted them.

“Duke!”

In the living room, Duke saw Pablo seated next to his wife on an overstuffed beige couch. Pablo got up to shake his hand. Monique held on to baby Lucia and beamed at the sight of Macy’s hand possessively wrapped around Duke’s forearm as she led him into the sunken living room.

With his free arm, Duke extended his hand toward his friend. “Hola, hermano, how’s everything?”

“Great. Great,” Pablo said, shaking his hand. “Are you ready to get back to work in the morning? Or have you been loafing around and you won’t be able to get up?”

“Oh, he’s been up,” Macy spoke up for him. Still holding on to the handshake, Pablo eyeballed Duke, who tried not to laugh. He knew at some point during this party he and Pablo were going to have to talk. He leaned over to kiss Monique properly on both cheeks, and then planted a kiss on Lucia’s head. The baby was fast asleep.

Music played in the background. He thought he recognized a bit of bachata. No doubt Pablo had been a part of the music selection. When his generation was growing up, the elders dismissed the heavy guitar and bass music as a fad they prayed would go away, even going as far as banning it in some places. But like most things, the more the adults tried to stop something, the more kids flocked to it. Now it was widely accepted within their crowd of music lovers.

Through the sliding glass door, Duke spotted a few couples out on the sprawling back porch swaying to the beat of the music. Duke had the sudden urge to sweep Macy into his arms and dance with her. He would love to feel her hips against his as they danced. But maybe now was not the right time.

Monique leaned forward in her seat, careful not to squish the baby. “So Duke, how do you like the morning show?”

“It’s good. Refreshing,” he answered honestly.

“I loved getting up and spreading the news. I know it hasn’t been long since I’ve been on maternity leave, but I miss going out and getting the story,” Monique said.

Duke looked over at Macy and explained what he knew. “When we were in college, Mo uncovered every news story possible.”

“She did it to get close to me,” Pablo boasted. “She covered all the sports, too. Mo may have endured a lot of baseball games, but it was really so she could get an interview with me.”

Playfully, Monique pinched Pablo’s arm. “He’s half right,” she said to Macy.

“Here you go, man.” Mario came over to the group with a cold bottle of beer already opened.

Duke thanked Mario and took a sip. “Actually, to be honest with you, I haven’t missed the investigative side of reporting.”

“It’d probably be hard to be an undercover reporter,” Mario piped in, “with you being a famous baseball player and then being on ESPN for so long.”

Duke nodded and took another sip of his beer. But he couldn’t lie. He couldn’t go anywhere without someone bringing up his time with the Yankees or as a sports reporter. No one remembered his interviews with politicians or his reports on Middle Eastern leaders. His job in DC had covered everything from politics to the local limelight. He reached his goal, breaking the mold of a dumb jock. Duke wanted to be the face viewers watched on television and trusted to bring them the news. People related to him and remembered his sports career. Sometimes, it took extra time to keep his guests focused on the story at hand, rather than reminiscing over past games. “My previous careers have had their drawbacks.”

“Sit down, Duke,” Macy said, fanning her hand toward the couch opposite Pablo and Monique. They fell into the cushions at the same time. Their hips touched, causing Macy to giggle slightly and adjust herself so she could look at him. As he looked into her eyes, it seemed like the rest of the world had been shut out. Duke leaned in closer and pressed his forehead against hers.

“Thank you for coming,” she said quietly as she leaned over.

“You know I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.” Out of the corner of his eye, Duke didn’t miss Monique elbowing Pablo in the ribs when he sat down.

“So Macy,” Monique began, “how’s your new helper coming along?”

Macy glanced up at Duke and beamed. “He’s turning out to be not as pampered as I assumed.”

“Pampered?” Pablo choked. “You thought he was pampered?”