The Geek Who Saved Christmas

“Good.” Brandon clapped him on the shoulder, giving a hearty laugh, exactly like Paul when he was trying not to get overly emotional. “Even if your version of a bachelor party is probably going to involve a sporting event.”

“Better that than my taste in strippers,” Paul deadpanned.

“True.” Brandon laughed so hard his eyes shined. “And you’ll survive the tux. I promise nothing too out there.”

“If Gideon can wear a bow tie, so can you,” Elaine tittered.

Oh. She was undoubtedly assuming I’d be Paul’s plus one, which I most assuredly had not been counting on. Letting me join in on Christmas was one thing. A cross country wedding was another beast entirely, but in that instant, I saw how easy it would be to offer my help. Tux wearing and toast making and fancy dinner rules. I could easily wrangle another six months out of that sort of usefulness.

Too easily. How much more would it hurt to part after the wedding when I wasn’t needed anymore?

“It’s not hard,” I said, biting back the offer of help. If Paul asked, I might still say yes. I didn’t trust myself to turn him down, but I could at least make him ask, not invite myself along.

“See?” Brandon swiped the last piece of bacon from the tray before I could put it in a plastic bag. “Dressing up is easy. And if you want, we can try for fall when you’re less in the middle of your busy season than at graduation.”

“Don’t choose a date on my account.” Paul waved away the concern as he stood and grabbed a sponge to wipe down the counter while Elaine finished loading the dishwasher. “Elaine’s parents likely have even more crowded schedules.”

“My mother.” Elaine shuddered. “I better have date, venue, and dress picked before they’re back stateside. She’ll have me in a tiara and ruffles if I’m not careful.”

“You’d look cute in a tiara,” Brandon said loyally.

“Ha. You’d like me in anything.” She patted his face with soapy fingers. “You should watch a Christmas Day game with your brother while I browse wedding websites on my phone.”

Ah. This was where I’d need to retreat, finally head home. I shut the fridge with a decisive click, last of the leftovers stowed. I’d already put the box with my new boots near my shoes and coat. The boots had been such a Paul gift. Other people might simply say, “Be careful” or “I don’t want you to fall,” but Paul actually went out and did something to try to ensure my safety. And spare him having to admit he cared about my neck. I loved the boots, even if they were a reminder that tomorrow I’d start packing the season away and everything would go back to normal. I sighed softly to myself.

But right when I would have grabbed my shoes, Paul tugged me toward the living room. “Come on. I know you hate sports, but you can make fun of their uniforms or something while we relax before we have to start the roast.”

“Oh.” Apparently, I was staying for Christmas dinner. I should speak up, give a polite excuse, but when I opened my mouth, what came out was, “All right. I’m good at potato peeling.”

“So I’ve heard,” he said easily as he arranged us on the couch after Elaine took over one of the chairs, Brandon sprawling at her feet with a cushion, dog next to him. They sure were a cute couple. Must be nice to have that sort of devotion.

Paul’s arms came around me as he shifted around until he arrived at a satisfactory position, holding me against his side as he used the remote to find a basketball game. He kept right on holding me as he and Brandon made a friendly bet. Every so often, Elaine would ask his opinion on flowers or mine on colors, and it was unbearably cozy, the four of us hanging out like this was an everyday occurrence.

I needed to go home and soon, but I seemed rooted to the couch, tangled up in Paul’s limbs and my own reluctance. All I could do was soak the moment up, let the good feelings add to my personal memory bank. This. This right here was both the happiest and most wistful I’d ever been. I might not survive Paul Frost.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Temperatures are dropping! Expect a record low tonight! Better watch those pipes, hope nothing freezes! ~Tim Frisk posted to the What’s Up Neighbor app

Paul

Something was wrong with Gideon. Or maybe not wrong. But definitely off. I studied him across the table as we tucked into dessert. The peppermint stick ice cream with homemade hot fudge had been one of his contributions to the menu, but he kept taking slow, almost disinterested bites.

He’d seemed quiet all afternoon, less animated than usual, less quick with a laugh, and even less bossy. The bossy thing was the most concerning, honestly. The other two probably didn’t notice any difference because Gideon had preened when they’d admired his bow tie after we all finally got dressed after brunch. He’d smiled and let them talk him into assisting with assembling Brandon’s new LEGO project, and he’d been helpful as ever after that, bustling around my kitchen for the dinner assembly.

He’d produced a mountain of peeled potatoes with a smile, but I hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that something was off. Gideon was normally a bright light, cutting through any darkness, a warm glow that couldn’t be denied. And today, it was like someone had put a shade over his inner lamp. Still there, but dimmer. I wanted him to tell me what the matter was, but every time we caught a slow moment together, something kept getting in the way. Elaine with a question. The oven timer. Jim needing outside. His phone dinging with Christmas messages from friends and relatives he didn’t seem inclined to answer.

“Maybe I want an ice cream bar at the wedding reception.” Elaine swiped more hot fudge for her ice cream from the bowl Gideon had set on the table. He’d performed some sort of culinary magic involving my microwave and chocolate chips. Damn, but I loved how he could elevate the ordinary. It was a unique skill set I hadn’t properly appreciated before him.

“The wedding needs cake, but we could do ice cream at the rehearsal dinner.” Brandon took seconds of the ice cream himself. “And a waffle bar at the morning-after breakfast.”

“Oh, I love that.” Elaine beamed at him. “The ice cream will fit the whole fun theme of the Friday night dinner and the costumes.”

“Costumes?” I suppressed a groan. Somehow the two of them had evolved over the course of the afternoon from a “small, intimate” ceremony and reception to an entire weekend extravaganza of events and obligations.

“Cosplay. All our friends are into different fandoms, so we thought it would be fun to ask people to come to the rehearsal dinner as their favorite characters. The pictures will be so fun,” Elaine enthused, scooping up more ice cream to add to the river of hot fudge in her bowl. “This is going to be the best weekend ever.”

“Since you love photos so much, you totally need to do a photo booth with props and backgrounds,” Gideon suggested. “I’ve been to a couple of weddings with those. You’ll love having those pictures to add to your albums.”