All's Fair in Love and Las Vegas

Chapter Fifty

        We fell asleep in our little fort, happily curled up next to each other. We slept in too, which was a lovely experience. Outside, snowflakes were falling softly upon the city.

        It was, in fact, the perfect day for Christmas decorating.

        The tree was placed properly in the corner of the living room, directly next to the giant window. Grayson and I wound it with lights, then turned to the rest of the room. Using step-ladders, we hung garland across all the doorways. Festive towels were hung in the kitchen. Stockings (embroidered with our names, of course) were hung on the fireplace mantle. Peppermint candles were lit. We poured eggnog. Grayson and I baked cookies, using our very best efforts to drizzle them in artistic frosting patterns. Then we ate about half the cookies, leaving not many for the trip back to Vancouver. It wasn't even Thanksgiving yet, but I was already feeling more festive and merry than I'd ever felt before.

        Starting the dishwasher full of dirty cookie dishes, I said, "It's a shame you don't have many ornaments."

        "About that," Grayson said from where he was putting the fluffy, extra sparkly garland with lights on the mantle. Curious, I walked over to him.

        He reached down and took two boxes from the coffee table. Handing me one, he said, "They're identical."

        "Presents are supposed to be exchanged on Christmas, not a week before Thanksgiving," I told him, smiling.

        "I know. But you said we need ornaments," he said with an innocent shrug.

        Shaking my head, I opened the cardboard box and set down the lid. My heart jumped as I slowly took out the ceramic ornament. Two snowmen, one dressed in green, one in red. Both wearing scarves. The green scarf read "Grayson" and the red scarf read "Jacks." Holding each other with their happy little snowmen faces.

        My throat closed up. "A family ornament."

        "Yeah. I figured we deserve one after the crazy six months we've had," he said, his hands in the pockets of his joggers. "Maybe we're not a typical family, but I still consider you family, Jackie."

        Don't cry, I mentally said, blinking back tears. "Grayson...thank you. Thank you so much," I said, my lower lip trembling.

        "Should we put it on our tree?" he asked, smiling.

        I nodded and hung it right in the middle. For a second it looked a little silly, being the only ornament on the ginormous tree. But then I realized how sweetly beautiful it looked, being the only thing there. One thing that mattered to us.

        "You don't have to put yours on your tree ever," Grayson said quickly. "Just if you want to. Or if you want to throw it out, that's fine too–"

        "It's perfect," I whispered, hugging him tight. Burying my face in his shirt, I murmured, "I'm putting it up every year."

        He chuckled softly and held me just as tight, snugly wrapping me in his warm embrace. It took me much too long to let go, and when I did, I took the box with the other ornament and carefully placed it under the tree, where it wouldn't get lost. 

         There was a knock at the door and Grayson went to get it. When he came back, he was holding a box and frowning. "Did you order anything?"

        "No. Did you?" I asked.

        "Nope. But...ah, it's from Clay," he said, setting it on the coffee table and opening it with his multi-purpose tool.

        I groaned. "Clay packages are never good."

        "Ding ding, we have a winner!" Grayson laughed and held up the mistletoe. Because that would be Clay's gift to us over a month in advance.

        "Seriously?" I groaned.

        "Wait, there's a card," Grayson said, overly enthusiastic. "Ah! He's sent us a whole kit to farm mistletoe! Now we'll have it forever!" 

        I clapped sarcastically. "Isn't that wonderful!"

        He laughed with me and set the box on the kitchen counter. "Is there like a way to donate plants or something?"

        "I have no clue. Surely, it can be put to good use, somehow," I said, cheerful that we were past the stage of our relationship where we would've teased each other relentlessly and hung it in every possible doorway.

        "Surely. But that's a tomorrow problem," Grayson said simply, dusting off his hands and turning up the Christmas music.

        I lit the candles scattered around the room, feeling powerful with my little lighter aglow. Then we packed up the empty boxes and stuffed them back into the closet, with only a slight glitter trail in our wake.

        For a second, all was well in the world. Then the song switched to "All I want for Christmas" and Grayson's head and mine jerked towards the speaker.

        "I love this song," I said brightly.

         "I also love this song," he agreed, grinning.

        My eyes went wide. "Really?" I squealed. Nina and Kylie may insist that I am hopeless on fun, but even I knew that Mariah Carey is the queen of Christmas and we shall all chant her melody until the new year.

        "Yes really!" he shouted, grabbing both my hands and pulling me around the room with him. He sang loudly, and I couldn't help but join in. Maybe he wasn't the best singer, but his excitement was infectious. Everyone in the apartments below us had to hate us, but I didn't care. I was learning that about myself; that Grayson made me not care about things. It was kind of nice, knowing you didn't have to worry about what people thought. My life and reputation was already permanently damaged, so I might as well make the best of what I have.

        We danced and sang long into the night, to the point of extreme giddiness thanks to a lack of sleep. It felt like every time one of us stumbled, or sang off-key, another wave of laughter was ignited. It must've been close to midnight by the time we finally turned off the music and headed to bed. Still breathless and a little giggly, Grayson cuddled me in his arms and whispered, "Night, Jacks."

        "Goodnight," I said, smiling to myself.

        For now, it was all fun and games. Except I didn't want to be the one to get hurt.