Dear Santa, What Happened to the Plan We Had?

"Are you fucking kidding me?" I practically screech. I struggle to pull my bathrobe around my wet body and tie a loose knot in the middle.

Gavin is sitting on his our large bed, still half-naked. His broad shoulders are hunched as he stares down at his cell phone, but I can tell he's only using it as an excuse not to meet my searing gaze.

"Unfortunately," he murmurs, "no, I'm not."

"There is no way you're doing this to me again! And on Christmas, Gavin?" My feet carry me closer to him. "You just got home!"

"I'm not leaving tonight. I'm leaving tomorrow."

"Oh, right," I scoff rudely. "Excuse me for wanting my boyfriend around for longer than two days."

"Christmas is basically over." He shakes his head. His tone is monotonous, but knowing him well enough, I can detect the thin layer of guilt and sadness in his voice. It isn't something he'll fully reveal.

"It's still Christmas, jack ass."

"Cece, don't be-"

"Mad? Too late." I turn and move across the open space of the bedroom. I don't know exactly where I'm headed, but I'm sure I can find some solace and solitude in this spacious condo.

Before I reach the door, I feel a strong arm wrap around my waist. Gavin pulls my back to his front and leans to my ear.

"I was going to say don't be childish," he rasps so softly that, for a second, I forget it's an insult. My body shivers in response to his. I want to roll my eyes at myself.

"Fuck you," I grunt, and struggle against his strength. He doesn't let up.

"You already did that."

"Let me go."

"It's my job, Cecelia." He rests his chin on top of my head and sighs deeply. I stop straining against his hold, feeling utterly broken and too weak to play this game with him anymore. "Don't make me feel guilty for doing my job."

Out of all the presents he gave me today - the jewelry, the makeup, the new laptop, the new editions of my favorite fragrances, the fucking BMW parked in the garage a few floors down - all I really, truly wanted was his time. And attention.

"When do you leave?"

"My flight's tomorrow afternoon at five," he sighs, "but I have to leave early in the morning because I have a meeting."

He already booked a flight. He knew he'd be leaving me far before deciding to tell me. I feel my body go lax in his arms.

"Please don't go," I sob pathetically.

"Cece, I..."

Begrudgingly, I think back to the times my family was obligated to take road trips in the heavy snow when I was young. Flights were constantly compromised because of Boston weather. If only California would give us a little Christmas miracle of a few snow flakes or something at least.

I wish harder than anything I'd ever wished or prayed for in my twenty-six years that, for once, it would snow in Los Angeles. Or at least rain a little. Even that's bound to delay Gavin's five o'clock flight.

Please, I beg the gods or goddesses or even fucking Santa Clause; whoever the hell's in charge, Give me something to make him stay.

"I just want you to stay."

---

"Come with me."

My mouth twists to the side in thought. "I'm supposed to start work a week before you get home."

"Blow it off." He smirks. My chest tightens.

"Don't make me feel guilty for having a job," I mock him, though I can't seem to force a smile on my face.

"Right."

I watch Gavin as he hesitates near the door, carry-on in one hand and passport in the other. He avoids my eyes again and I use that time to step closer to him. The handsome smirk falls from his face.

"I wish your flight was delayed or cancelled, or something."

Despite my most desperate wishes, that Santa asshole didn't keep up his end of the deal. So much for Christmas miracles. My iPhone weather predictions are a solid seventy degrees.

I just need more time. Of being encircled in the safety of his arms, sitting by the extravagant electric fireplace he had installed by my request, watching holidays movies, and eating junk food that he'll complain about.

"I'll be home soon. I promise." Gavin reaches out to gently brush my cheek with his forefinger. My eyes flutter involuntarily.

"It never feels like it."

I bite my lip, refusing to cry again.

"You know I love you, kitten."

A hot wave washes over my entire body, making my knees weak and my head dizzy. A silent tear rolls down my cheek at his words, despite my efforts not to let him see me cry again like last night. The rare feeling of hearing a simple I love you from him leaves me overwhelmed.

I kiss him and he leaves me.