“No, they are all yours,” he says, winking at me. And God, I feel myself blushing so hard. Again. I feel so ashamed, but I’m too hungry…so I start to eat. I eat so quickly that my cheeks are full of food. God, I must look like a chipmunk.
Pete seems to think the same, because he starts laughing, and I self-consciously put my hand over my mouth, swallowing hard. Magically, a cup of hot tea appears in his hands, which I can’t refuse. This must be Heaven.
It’s at times like this I really wish I could talk. I wish I could say a proper thank you without having to mime it or write it down. And I don’t even have my notebook. So I do the only thing I can: I put down the plate and cup, turn to him, and hug him. Tight. Now I know for sure Pete is no Santa. No, he’s my Christmas present.
* * * *
Pete