Model Behavior

by Carter, M. E.

  “I—”

  “Stay.”

  “Matthew, I can’t. I like you. Too much, I think. But nothing has changed. I still won’t sleep with you.”

  “I would never ask you to go against your values. I like you too. Probably too much. Stay in the guest room. Have Christmas morning with us. I just want to spend time with you. Sven is fine and asleep. You know what they say, sleep when they sleep.”

  Surprising the hell out of me, she slides her hands around me and lifts to her toes, placing a quick kiss to my lips.

  “Goodnight, Matthew. I’ll see you in the morning. Don’t forget Santa’s cookies.”

  Before I can respond, she spins on her heel and walks down the hall and into the guest room.

  Chapter 26

  Carrie

  Stretching my arms over my head, I find myself wondering what kind of mattress Matthew has for this guest room. It’s still the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in, and also why it wasn’t hard to convince me to stay over again. Like sleeping on a cloud, it has the perfect amount of firmness but still feels like I’m floating. Add the right number of pillows and fluffy blankets that keep me neither too hot nor too cold and it’s pure heaven.

  I could stay here all day. I also may be overthinking my sleeping arrangements right now.

  No time to lie around though. As much as this bed is holding me hostage, Sven needs to be fed. Plus, while I may feel like lounging some more, my bladder is obviously hard at work.

  Climbing out of bed, I tug on my pants and slip on my bra. Nobody needs to see me running around without it. Instead of putting on my sweater, I opt to leave on the T-shirt I snagged from the folded laundry that was on the bed. Maybe I need to start keeping a change of clothes in my car. Slowly, I open the door, not wanting to wake anyone who may still be sleeping. Poking my head into the hall, I listen for movement but hear nothing. I quickly pad my way to the hall bathroom to do my business. Normally I wouldn’t choose bubblegum flavored princess toothpaste but desperate times don’t leave me another option. I look like I just woke up, but there’s no reason for my breath to smell like it. You never know when more mistletoe may suddenly appear.

  Too bad there isn’t a quick fix for these eyebrows, I think as I inspect my face in the mirror. Why didn’t I deal with them yesterday?

  I shake my head at my own laziness. Nothing I can do about it now. I’ve got a squirrel to feed before Little Miss Holiday Cheer wakes up. If last night was any indication of how things go around here on Christmas, I’d better be prepared for a small tornado to rip through the living room.

  Quickly, I pass through the house, spying a plate of cookies and a glass of milk on the coffee table. A few bites are missing. I wonder if the guilty party was Matthew or Kris Kringle. With how much Matthew thinks about his food intake, it’s more realistic to think Santa really was here.

  Snickering to myself at my own joke, I round the corner into the laundry room and stop dead in my tracks at the vision in my line of sight.

  Matthew is sporting some sexy as hell bedhead, a white T-shirt, and the Christmas pajama bottoms Calypso gave him last night. Not a lot of men can rock sparkly snowflakes, but he makes it look sexier than it should.

  What really has my breath hitching is watching him interact with Sven. He’s holding Sven on his chest, rocking back and forth like he’s a human baby, and feeding him milk from a small bottle. I’m fully aware that he’s feeding a squirrel, but it’s giving me visions of what he must have looked like as a new father—rocking his baby girl as he feeds and coos at her.

  He must hear me approach because he looks up and flashes me a huge grin.

  Aaaand I’m pretty sure one of my ovaries just exploded over the whole scene in front of me.

  “What are you doing up so early?” he asks quietly.

  “I needed to feed Sven, but I guess you beat me to it.”

  Looking down at our rodent son, he shrugs. “I was up anyway, so I thought you could sleep in. You can go back to bed if you want.”

  “Nah.” I lean against the door jamb and rest my head. I may be up, but I’m not fully awake yet. “Once I wake up, I can’t go back to sleep.”

  “That sucks. So no afternoon napping for you?”

  “Nope. It’s a curse.” I push off the wall and take a couple of steps toward them. “Anyway, I should probably get this little guy and get out of here before Sprite wakes up.”

  Matthew looks up at me quickly, confusion and maybe a little hurt in his eyes. “Why? It’s Christmas morning.”

  “I know.” I try to stroke Sven’s little head, but he starts sniffing my fingers wondering if I have any food for him. It makes it impossible to make contact with anything more than his nose. “I don’t want us to get in the way.”

  “Carrie.” He says my name in his dad voice, and I feel my last remaining ovary begin to rumble at the authority of his deep timbre. “You won’t be in the way. In fact, if you aren’t here, I’ll have to explain to my daughter where you went and why, and likely there will be a hysterical breakdown. If you care about me at all, you won’t put me through that.”

  My lips quirk in amusement at his dramatics.

  “Plus,” he continues, “we have leftover prime rib, and I was going to make a scramble.”

  And that cements my answer. For an animal rescue professional, I’m surprisingly supportive of the carnivore lifestyle.

  “Now you’re speaking my language,” I joke, giving up on petting Sven, who has climbed from Matthew to me and is currently sniffing around in my hair. “Although I could probably go for some coffee first, if that’s okay.”

  “One coffee, coming right up. Go make yourself comfortable on the couch.” He quickly pecks me on the lips, which I enjoy a little too much, and I begin to wonder how my heart is going to take it when Matthew realizes I’m just a normal girl and not anything special. I know it’s just been a matter of weeks since we’ve started spending time together and really had a chance to get to know each other, but he’s become one of my favorite people in the world. He’s so different than anyone I’ve ever known, and I find myself wanting to be near him, even if it’s just sitting on the couch watching a movie.

  Funny how things change when you get to know someone for more than their first impression. Just don’t tell Donna Moreno. She’d have a field day, knowing I have to eat crow about her cover model. And then she’d probably turn it into a book or something ridiculous like that. Can you imagine reading about a hot model falling for a normal girl that spends her free time with animals that call trees their home? I can’t.

  Placing Sven back in his cage, he wobbles his way to the small box he now uses as a nest. That’s the last we’ll see of him for the next few hours, which gives me a chance to appreciate the cup of coffee Matthew promised before the festivities begin. I settle into the corner of the couch and enjoy the beautiful tree that is surrounded with more presents.

  “Carrie!” a little voice squeals, startling me.

  Calypso stands in front of me chattering excitedly about Santa eating the cookies and how full her stocking is. She’s not wrong. That sucker is oversized to begin with, but now it’s overstuffed too.

  “I’m sorry we didn’t get you a stocking.” Matthew hands me my steaming cup of joe and sits beside me. “I should have planned better.”

  “It’s not like we knew I was going to spend the night.” I take a sip, moaning at the goodness that is Folgers in my cup. Matthew’s eyes widen slightly and I make a mental note that he likes that noise. Good to know. Not that I’ll be using the information for anything, but knowledge is power and all that jazz. “Besides, I’ve never had a Christmas morning before, so I’m excited to see what this is all about.”

  His jaw drops open. “Never?”

  “Did you forget the part about me being Jewish?” I tease and take another sip. Seriously, whoever invented coffee should have a statue somewhere. Huh. I wonder if there is actually a statue like that. I’ll have to look.
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br />   “I didn’t forget.” He runs his fingers through his already messy hair and somehow he ends up looking sexier than he already did. It’s so unfair. If I ran my fingers through my hair like that, I’d look like I stuck my finger in an outlet. “I guess it just seems foreign to me.”

  “I mean, I’m not a complete novice. I know what it’s like, but I haven’t experienced it. Besides, I have a feeling a certain someone is going to make the present process fun to watch.”

  “Can we open now, Daddy? Can we?” Calypso is practically yelling as she jumps up and down, too wired with excitement to wait any longer. I need to make sure she doesn’t sample my coffee. The last thing this little one needs is caffeine.

  Matthew turns to me and in his most sarcastic tone says, “Fun is relative.” Then he pushes off the couch and heads toward the mantel. “Okay, Sprite. You can have your stocking. Wow.” He pulls it down and pretends to have a hard time carrying it. “Looks like you’ve been a really good girl this year.”

  Calypso giggles and instructs her dad where to put her stocking. It barely hits the floor before she digs in, and basically recreates the scene from last night—wrapping paper flying everywhere, squeals of delight when each treasure is revealed, the soft sound of Christmas carols playing in the background as Matthew syncs his phone to the surround sound. Christmas morning is exactly like I’ve seen in all the movies. Except there’s no snow. I’m a bit wimpy with cooler temps so I don’t mind the loss.

  The couch depresses next to me as Matthew sits down, and I can’t help my contented sigh.

  “This is just perfect,” I breath and relax back into the cushions more.

  “I’m glad you’re having a good time.” I feel him turn to look at me, but I’m having too much fun watching Calypso. It’s another one of those moments where seeing this experience through her eyes makes it so much… more. “I hope this makes it a little better.”

  I look down just as Matthew puts a medium sized box on my lap. Based on the wrapping job, I’m sure Calypso had something to do with it.

  Now I understand all her delighted shrieks. I’m having a hard time keeping my voice under control right now because I have a present! “Is this for me?”

  He gives me a wicked grin and bites his bottom lip before answering. “There’s more where that came from.”

  My jaw drops open. “Are you serious? Matthew, I didn’t bring you anything.”

  “Sure you did. Sprite loves that stuffed squirrel. She named it Kristoff, by the way.”

  “No, I mean I didn’t get you anything.” Now I feel terrible, and it’s making me anxious. It’s one thing to bring a child a gift, but I didn’t know we were at the point where we were exchanging gifts ourselves. I wouldn’t know what to give him anyway. A tie for work? A low-carb recipe book? Some bronze tanner to slather on his incredible abs before a cover shoot?

  “I can see your brain working overtime,” he says quietly, and I shoot him an aggravated glare at his ability to read my mind. “Stop overthinking. This was impulse shopping, all the way around. Give me your cup.”

  “Fine,” I say, caving to his request and handing him my beloved coffee. This is my first Christmas present. Why shouldn’t I enjoy it? “Hey, Sprite!” I call out.

  “Yeah?” She doesn’t even look up from her new toys.

  “Did you get this for me?” She finally looks up to see me holding the box. When it registers what I have, her eyes widen, and she tosses the new doll she opened aside and comes racing over.

  “Open it! Open it!”

  I can’t help but laugh at the fact that she’s just as excited for me to open a gift as she was to open her own. There must be something really special in here.

  Starting slowly because I want the moment to last, I begin peeling off the paper. That’s short lived though, when Calypso’s fingers get in the middle of it, ripping it open faster than I can keep up.

  It’s worth it. Inside the box is a wooden plaque with a painted picture of a squirrel. Only it’s not just any squirrel. He’s wearing glasses and holding a book. And because he’s red I know without a doubt this sweet girl just gave me a picture of my Lukey.

  “Sprite,” I say, my voice full of emotion. “I love this so much.”

  Still bouncing, she replies, “You’re the best squirrel mommy, and all mommies need pictures of their babies, so I got you a picture of Luke. Did you know that’s Luke?”

  I nod and blink the wetness out of my eyes because who cries over a Christmas present? I don’t want to be ridiculous. “I did know. It looks just like him.”

  Well, not really. He doesn’t actually have glasses, but I still recognized him immediately.

  “Daddy helped me pick it out.” And she bounces away with that one final statement.

  Holding my new prized possession to my chest, I turn to Matthew. “Thank you so much. I love it.”

  He nudges my knee with his own. “Yeah, we knew you would. But you have one more so put that down.”

  I do as he says while he bends down in front of the couch and reaches underneath it. I’m seriously confused as to what he could be doing, but I don’t wait long. As he rises, he hands me a cylindrical shaped gift. It’s about four feet long and must have been a bitch to wrap.

  “What is this?”

  He collapses back on the couch now that he’s done with squats for the day. “Just open it.”

  This time I don’t bother enjoying the moment. Because of how long it is I have to stand up to rip and shred like a good little girl who cannot contain her excitement. When I realize what’s inside, I can’t hide my surprise either.

  “You got me a didgeridoo?” I screech, completely understanding why Calypso jumps up and down so much during the holidays. “This is amazing!”

  “Since you’re planning your bucket list trip, I figured you could get started early, learning how to play it.”

  Running my hand down the smooth eucalyptus wood, I’m amazed by the intricate painting design on it. The didgeridoo has been used for centuries when indigenous Australians created the wind instrument. The sound is like nothing I’ve ever heard, deep and rich. I’ve watched videos of some of the most wonderful musicians creating music with it. I’ve always been fascinated by it and can’t believe I’m holding one in my hands. It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. And likely the most expensive.

  “I can’t believe you got me this,” I practically whisper, overcome with emotion for the second time in as many minutes. At this moment, I feel almost a “click” in place. Like everything about this, about Matthew, about our situation makes sense. We make sense. We understand each other and respect each other. We may even love each other. I mean, really. Nothing says love like an aboriginal wind instrument, right?

  Matthew, who is completely oblivious to the existential moment I’m having, is almost as excited as I am. “The guy I got it from explained to me how to make it work.”

  Confused, I furrow my brow. “Don’t you just blow in it?”

  “I think there’s more to it.”

  Shrugging, I decide to forgo any instructions he has and just go for it. Placing my lips inside the opening, I take a deep breath and blow.

  Aaaand nothing happens.

  “Like I said,” Matthew says, clearly happy he was right. “There’s more to it.”

  “Okay, smart ass. What am I doing wrong?”

  He chuckles lightly, and I can tell he’s enjoying this way too much already. “It’s like a vibration noise that goes through it. So you have to blow like this.” He presses his lips together and blows, like he’s making bubbles in a pool. That doesn’t look too hard.

  Pressing my lips together, I place them inside the hole again and try my best to blow bubbles.

  Pppppprrrrrrrrrrrbbbbbbbbbbbb.

  “That sounds like a moose dying,” Calypso says and Matthew bursts out laughing.

  “I’m doing my best!” I argue and try it again.

  Ppppppprrrrrrrbbbbbbbbb.

  “
What am I doing wrong?” I ask. “Did you give me false instructions?”

  “Nope,” Matthew says as he reaches across to the coffee table and picks up his phone. “Try again. Only this time, I’m not missing the opportunity to catch it on video.”

  “You jerk.” My words say I’m annoyed, but my eyes say I’m not that upset. “Don’t you dare post that on your social media.”

  He snickers. “No guarantees.”

  I glare at him which just makes him laugh more. I’m regretting the bubblegum toothpaste. It would serve him right for me to have morning breath.

  Closing my eyes, I focus on what my lips need to do, then get in position, and blow.

  Once again, it starts out like a dying moose and then suddenly the timbre changes. My eyes widen but I don’t dare stop blowing because I’m doing it! I’m playing the didgeridoo!

  “You did it! You did it!” Calypso claps and yells as she bounces more.

  Raising my hand in victory, I look over at Matthew, still blowing. He’s smiling and laughing and hasn’t stopped recording yet, the asshole.

  Eventually, I run out of air and the noise stops.

  “I can’t believe I did it!” I gasp, trying to get my bearings while setting my precious new hobby on the floor beside the couch.

  “It was pretty impressive.”

  Without thinking, I leap over the table, straddling him on the couch. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I say over and over as I press kisses all over his face, hoping he understands the gravity of my appreciation.

  He chuckles and hugs me, not as tight as I would like but I don’t think much about it. Until he says, “Um, Carrie? Calypso.”

  My body stiffens. Oh shit. I forgot there was a kid in the room. Slowly, I turn my head to see if she noticed me attacking her father.

  Calypso is no longer jumping. She’s standing still. Staring. Like those creepy twins in that haunted hotel movie.

  I’m in so much trouble.

  As suddenly as I jumped on Matthew, Calypso’s face changes to a huge grin and she yells “Family hug!” running and jumping on us just like I did to her dad.