it doesn't hurt anyone. It's not PC, but the kids seem to have a good time. So why not?” He was relieved that she saw it that way, and he looked at her again with pleasure, as they drove back to her house afterward in the limo he had rented for the occasion. The evening had been very grand, and they had both enjoyed it. “Thank you for taking me.” She smiled at him, as he leaned over and kissed her. He thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and he was proud to be with her, although he'd been slightly horrified by her parents. He couldn't imagine growing up with two people like that. It amazed him that she was normal, and grateful that she was not like them. She was warm and kind and compassionate, gentle where they were stiff, and easy to be with. She was smiling at him happily as they approached her house. “I can hardly wait to spend Christmas with you.” She smiled at him. “I love the holidays. I thought I'd buy my tree tomorrow, and we can decorate it.” He looked at her then as though he had been slapped, and there was a strange awkward moment between them. He knew he had to say something now. If he didn't, he was a liar. He had to tell her the truth, just as he had told her, when they got back together, that he expected it of her.
His voice was very sad and soft as he spoke. “I won't be here.”
“Tomorrow?” She looked startled, and he looked chagrined.
“No. For Christmas,” he said carefully. “I hate the holidays, every moment of them, everything about them. I don't do Christmas anymore. It's too hard for me. I spend it on my boat every year. I'll be gone for three weeks.” There was a long silence between them as she stared at him, as though she found it hard to believe.
“When are you leaving?” she asked, looking as though he had hit her in the head with a brick. He almost expected to see blood trickling from her ear. It made him feel sick. He hated to disappoint her. But there were some things he just couldn't do for anyone, and this was one.
“Next week.” He sounded pained but determined.
“Before Christmas?” He nodded.
“I'm going to St. Barts with Adam. It's a tradition. We do it every year.” As though that excused it, but they both knew that in her eyes, it didn't.
“He leaves his kids for the holidays?” Her voice was filled with disapproval, it sounded incredibly selfish to her.
“He comes the day after Christmas. I always go down a week before.”
“Why don't you go down with him the day after? Then we could be together on Christmas.” It seemed like a reasonable compromise to her, but Charlie shook his head.
“I can't do it. I know myself. I just can't. I want to get out of here, before everyone gets maudlin, or I do. Christmas is for people with children and families. I don't have either.”
“You have me,” she said sadly. In some ways, she knew it was too soon to expect it of him, but they had a relationship, they said they loved each other, and Christmas was important to her. That was supposed to mean something. And apparently, to Charlie, it didn't. Or maybe it meant too much.
“We'll do something fun when I get back,” he said by way of consolation, but she was staring out the window, thinking.
“I can't get away then. I wasn't expecting to do anything spectacular.” She turned to look at him again. “I just wanted to be with you. I have to work then anyway. I can't just walk out on the kids for no reason when you get back, just because you don't want to spend Christmas with me.”
“It's not about trying to avoid you,” he explained to her, looking unhappy. “I hate the whole goddamn thing. It was designed to make people miserable and feel left out. Even kids, they never get what they want. People argue, children fight. Santa Claus is a lie we tell kids and then disappoint them later, when we think they're old enough to take it, and tell them it's not true. I hate the whole damn mess, and I won't do it.”
“Maybe love is always about disappointment,” she said, looking straight at him.
“I was hoping you'd be a good sport about it,” he said, looking strained as