Page 59 of Jack Frosting

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Ugh.

Rolling over, I realized I was in bed alone. Where was Jack? Hadn’t he spent the night?

Fuck, it’s Christmas morning!

I leapt out of bed – praying that Henry wasn’t awake yet – grabbed my bathrobe and quietly crept down the hall and stairs. I was a terrible dad for fucking up Christmas. I couldn’t believe I didn’t even think about it last night.

Oh.

The floor around the tree in the living room was surrounded by presents. Henry’s presents. I recognized the wrapping. Jack and I had done most of it a few nights ago, together in my bedroom, once Henry had fallen asleep.

I heard noise from the kitchen, so I turned down the hall to see who it was.

“Morning?” I said tentatively.

“Hey! You’re awake!”

It was Jack and he was dressed in a Santa outfit sans footwear.

“And walking on your own,” Jack teased.

“I made it into the house last night.”

“Whatever.” Jack walked over to get a kiss, but I stopped him.

“I really need to brush first, sorry.”

“Okay.” Jack chuckled, going back to the stove.

I followed him and felt him up from behind. “Are you shirtless under there?”

“What do you think?”

“Mmm. If Santa looked like you, I think we’d have more than one Christmas each year.”

“Did you know you’re cute when you’re drunk?” Jack asked, unwilling to acknowledge how hot he looked in red and white. “Reminds me of old times.” He winked.

I ignored the reference to our past. “Did you set up the presents?” I asked. “And are you making pancakes?”

“Yes to both.”

“Thank you so much. You saved Christmas.” I hugged him from behind.

“It can be part of my Christmas present to you.”

“It’s perfect. I love it.” I kissed him on the neck. “I’m gonna run upstairs and make myself a little more presentable, maybe wake Henry up.”

I took the stairs two at a time. My heart was soaring. I couldn’t believe he had done all that for Henry. For me.

The shower was my fastest ever. I even took the toothbrush in with me to move things along. Drying off, I chose a festive sweater and jeans to attempt to match Jack’s holiday spirit, though it wouldn’t be half as cute.

I didn’t need to wake up Henry; he met me at the top of the stairs.

“Merry Christmas, Dad.”

“Merry Christmas, son,” I said, meeting him halfway with a hug.