The Romantic Pact (Kings of Football)(64)
“Let us know if you need anything. We will have the dinner you ordered sent up soon, and tomorrow morning you said you woud like your Christmas brunch at nine in the morning?”
“Yes. That would be great. Thank you.”
Anja gives me a curt nod and disappears as quickly as she showed up. Package in hand, I take it to Crew and hand it to him.
He stares at Pops’s handwriting that reads “Open Christmas Eve.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
He nods. “Yeah. You? This isn’t just about me, you know.”
“I know, but I never spent Christmas with Pops. This seems more important to you.”
“Well, now you get to spend Christmas with him.” He sets the package down and says, “Let’s get settled and then we can open it. How does that sound?”
“If that’s what you want.” I’m trying to be extra sensitive, as I know Crew has been nervous about this package, so I’ll follow his lead.
Silently, we move around the hotel room, almost like clockwork now. We set up our suitcases, I pull out a few toiletries, placing them in the tight-fitting bathroom. Then I gather my pajamas, quickly change, and wash my face. When Crew is in the bathroom, I plug my phone in on the right side of the bed, the side I’ve been sleeping on since the start of the trip, and check my messages. I have a few from Mia that I quickly answer. I send her a few pictures, tell her I got her something, and that I can’t wait to see her to tell her all the details.
When Crew emerges from the bathroom, he almost looks somber as he moves around the room and then finally takes a seat on the bed, where the package waits for the both of us.
“You sure you’re okay?” I ask.
“Yeah.” He takes a deep breath and picks at the tape. It takes him a few seconds, but he tears the tape off and opens the box. At the very top is a piece of construction paper in bright green. It says, “Play Christmas music.”
On my phone, I pull up my music app and search for Christmas music. “Do you want instrumental or traditional? Pop Christmas? Country Christmas?”
“Crooner Christmas,” Crew says. “That’s what Pops always used to play. That and Mannheim Steamroller. God, he loved that music so much.”
“Should we play Mannheim Steamroller, then?”
Crew gives it some thought. “Yeah, actually, I think that’s what we should play.”
“You got it.” I look up their most recent Christmas album, select random play, and the warm sound of the xylophone fills the room as “Carol of the Bells” floats into the room. Perfect.
Looking a little less sorrowful, Crew lifts up a handful of shredded newspaper to find an envelope. I scoot closer so my shoulder is now pressing against his and I can hold his hand if need be.
He opens the envelope and reads out loud. “‘Hey kiddos. If you’re reading this, you made it to N?rdlingen. The hotel is quite small, but I chose this hotel for its more intimate atmosphere. The staff was very accommodating when I spoke to them on the phone, and said you’d be taken care of when you arrived. Being away from home for Christmas I know is going to be different, especially for you, Crew, but I figured I’d try to bring a little bit of Christmas to you. Lift up the tissue paper. I’ll wait.’”
Crew reaches into the box and lifts up the tissue paper, revealing two sets of matching plaid Christmas pajamas with tiny reindeer printed in the fabric. Immediately Crew laughs out loud as he pulls them out.
“Oh my God, matching PJs,” I say, unravelling one that seems to be a long-sleeved thermal nightgown. “This must be mine.” I unravel the other, and it’s just a pair of pants. “Unless you think you can fit into the nightgown.”
Crew snags the pants. “Over my dead body.” He goes back to the letter. “‘Can you imagine there aren’t a lot of options for Christmas PJs in the summer? So, hope you guys like them. Lift up the tissue paper.’” Crew removes more tissue paper, revealing two wrapped boxes. “‘These are for Christmas, so don’t open them just yet. Just something small. And the pop-up tree is so you have a place to put them.’”
I take out the crepe-paper decoration and expand it, forming a small paper tree, and secure it back to itself. “This is perfect,” I say, placing it on the dresser near the window, where we can see the snow falling. Our very own little Christmas. When I move back to the bed, Crew stops me, sits me on his leg, and wraps his arm firmly around my waist. Knowing he needs this comfort, I don’t protest; instead, I loop my arm around his shoulder.
“‘I wish you had cookies of mine to eat tonight, but I doubt they would have been good after such a long wait. Instead, I asked the hotel to provide you with the best cookie platter they have. Finally, lift up the last bit of paper.’” Crew lifts the paper and I hear him suck in a sharp breath. His hand releases the letter and he reaches into the box, pulling out a small recorder and a tattered version of The Night Before Christmas. “No fucking way,” he whispers, shaking his head. “No . . . fucking way.”
“Is that the book Pops read to you every Christmas Eve?”
Crew strokes the cover almost reverently and nods. “Yeah. It was the one he read from when my mom was young, too. I can’t believe he sent this.” Crew sucks in a deep breath. “Fuck.” And then I catch him wipe under his eye.