Exordium

December 24, 2012.

It had been exactly four days since I pitched the freelance agency to Claudia.

Things were already in motion. I had spoken privately with the café’s owner, Matilde, officially putting in my two weeks' notice. Thankfully, Roxanne—the evening barista and Karlsten’s usual shift partner—eagerly agreed to take over my hours. The transition was completely seamless, and it wouldn't disrupt the café's operations, especially since Matilde was locking the doors and closing up shop from Christmas Eve until the New Year. I purposely didn’t mention a single word about Claudia leaving. I knew Claudia’s fierce pride; it was important that she handed in her own resignation when she was ready.

As for the holidays, the loft was going to be completely quiet. The Russian Brotherhood had scattered to be with their families. Nikolay and Boris had flown out to Brighton Beach to terrorize Boris’s uncle in New York, while Andrew had caught a flight to San Francisco to spend the break with his sisters.

I had called my parents earlier in the week to break the news that I was staying in Chicago yet again. A heavy, lingering guilt chewed at my chest, knowing this would be the third year in a row I hadn't flown to see them. But the moment I explained the truth—that I was launching a consulting business to help a brilliant friend—their disappointment instantly transformed into overwhelming support.

However, as a penalty for missing the family gathering, my mother aggressively insisted that I decorate my apartment. She literally overnighted a massive box of expensive Christmas decorations directly to my building's lobby.

It was funny, this was the absolute first time I had ever decorated the loft for the holidays. I spent hours wrestling with garland, stringing up warm lights, and arranging the ornaments around the massive, usually sterile living room. But looking around, my loft finally felt like a proper home for Christmas… I think.

I leaned against the kitchen island, staring at the twinkling lights. It’s an absolute waste to celebrate Christmas Eve entirely alone in a place that looks this festive.

An idea sparked in my mind. I should invite Claudia over tonight.

We were already scheduled to spend Christmas Day locked in the loft brainstorming the technical side of the business. But inviting her over for a proper Christmas Eve dinner might actually lift her spirits. I knew she was missing her family back home, and she definitely wasn't going to celebrate in her tiny, cramped dorm room.

I pulled my phone out of my pocket. The screen read 3:00 PM. She was undoubtedly still hustling through her exhausting weekend side-gigs.

Me: Clau, are you still busy?

A few agonizing minutes ticked by before the screen lit up with her reply.

Claudia: Hey, just finished scrubbing a kitchen. What’s up?

God, she never stops.

Me: Are you free tonight?

Claudia: Wait, aren't we meeting tomorrow for the brainstorming stuff? I still have a few more gigs lined up until 8 PM tonight.

Me: Yep, but let’s just say I want to throw an official "Welcome to the Partnership" dinner tonight before we dive into the stressful stuff tomorrow.

Three pulsing dots appeared, disappeared, and appeared again. She was hesitating. I knew she was probably exhausted and felt guilty about imposing on my holiday.

Me: Come on, I already set everything up! O_O

Claudia: Alright... but it’s Christmas Eve. Don't you have a family occasion to be at?

Me: Do you?

Claudia: Well, I had a very romantic date planned with my pillow.

Me: Great, you can bring your pillow too if you want! Send me the address of your last gig. I’ll pick you up at 8 PM sharp.

Claudia: You aren't going to take 'no' for an answer, are you?

Me: Nope.

Claudia: LOL, alright Cap'n. I’ll send you the location later.

Me: I will be waiting.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, a genuine, uncontrollable smile spreading across my face.

Now, I needed to actually execute the dinner. What should I cook? Steak perhaps?

I opened my stainless-steel fridge to check my inventory, but it was mostly empty aside from some basic meal prep.

I need to hit the grocery store right now. I'll get some high-end wagyu steak, some fresh sides, and maybe some sparkling cider since we shouldn't drink if we're working tomorrow. Yep. That was the perfect plan.

I grabbed my car keys off the marble counter and rushed out the front door, eager to get the perfect Christmas dinner ready.

**

After getting the steaks prepped for dinner, I grabbed my keys and immediately drove to the address Claudia had texted me. She was working at a local, family-owned bakery, picking up a grueling one-off shift just for the Christmas Eve rush.

At exactly 8:00 PM, I pulled up to the curb. She was already waiting for me on the snowy sidewalk, shivering slightly with a small paper bag clutched in her freezing hands.

"Buonasera, signora," I greeted her smoothly, leaning over to pop the passenger door open.

She giggled, sliding into the warm leather seat and brushing the snow from her shoulders. "Buonasera, signore!" She shot me a playful, challenging smirk. "E la cavalleria? Dovresti aprirmi la porta!"

"Hov, stop lige en gang! Jeg taler ikke italiensk!" I smirked right back at her, aggressively firing back in Danish.

"Va bene, quindi giochiamo in casa, eh?" she countered flawlessly, leaning into the game.

"Для меня это китайская грамота," I laughed, throwing out a thick Russian phrase I had absorbed from hanging around Boris and Nikolay.

"Ma dai, fai tutto il poliglotta adesso?" She squinted at me, crossing her arms in mock defiance.

"Okay, I give up. I don’t understand a single fucking word you’re saying right now," I laughed, holding my hands up in complete surrender.

She burst into bright laughter. "Well, you're going to have to learn Italian too if you want to keep up, Mister Mondo!"

"Of course, I expect you to tutor me in that, too! But for now, let’s head back to my place, Miss Vidvittig."

We laughed easily as I pulled the car back into the Chicago traffic.

But as we approached my luxury high-rise, I felt a sudden spike of anxiety. I knew how fiercely proud Claudia was about money. Bringing her to a multi-million dollar building was a massive risk. As I scanned my keycard and pulled into the private, brightly lit basement parking garage, her eyes started darting around, taking in the rows of expensive sports cars.

"You live down here?" she asked, her eyebrows pulling together in confusion.

I looked at her, keeping my face completely deadpan. "No. I live upstairs. Did you honestly think I lived in a parking garage?"

She giggled, the tension breaking instantly as she playfully shoved my shoulder. I parked, walked around the hood, and made sure to properly open her door for her this time.

But as we stepped into the private elevator, her expression grew tense again. She nervously fidgeted with her fingers, looking around the polished mahogany interior. When the metal doors finally slid open to my floor, she froze in the hallway, looking at the pristine, quiet luxury of the corridor. She looked completely out of her element.

I reached out, gently wrapping my hand around her wrist to ground her. "Come on. My place is right down here."

I unlocked the heavy metal deadbolt and pushed the door open. As she tentatively walked inside, her dark eyes blew wide open. She wandered slowly into the center of the room, taking in the sprawling, massive living area, the marble kitchen island, and the massive floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city.

"This is your place?" she whispered.

"Yeah. I live here."

Her gaze finally landed on the center of the room, where I had spent hours arranging the Christmas decorations my mother had sent. She stared at it. Her expression slowly shifted. Her lips began to tremble, pressing tightly together.

"Did... did you decorate this all by yourself?" she asked, her voice shaking.

I nodded, puffing my chest out slightly with a proud, confident smile. "Of course. Did it all myself."

Suddenly, her composure completely shattered. She burst into a fit of loud, breathless laughter.

"What the fuck?" I squinted at her, my confident smile instantly dropping into a frown.

"Why did you put the garland like that?!" She kept laughing, physically holding her stomach as she pointed at my chaotic, terrible handiwork.

"What?! What’s wrong with it?!"

She wiped actual tears of laughter from the corners of her eyes, shaking her head at me. "Oh my god, Daeron. Let me help you fix this before my eyes bleed."

My anxiety completely evaporated…. by being terrible at decorating.

She immediately stripped off her coat and went to work, completely dismantling and rearranging the decorations I had so proudly placed. I was instantly demoted to being her tall assistant, handing her ornaments and holding the ladder while she busily changed everything around.

After almost half an hour of her bossing me around the living room, the vibe of the loft had completely transformed.

"Okay, no shit. It actually looks like a proper Christmas home now," I admitted, my eyes widening in genuine awe. It wasn't a sterile luxury box anymore. It was warm. "You really know what you’re doing."

She giggled, admiring the lights reflecting off the glass doors. "I used to love decorating the house for the holidays back home."

I turned to look at her. Her dark brown eyes were sparkling in the warm, golden glow of the string lights, and a wide, breathtaking smile was drawn across her peach-snow skin. For a moment, the world just stopped.

My breath caught quietly in my chest.

"Thank you. Really. You completely changed the vibe of this place," I murmured, my voice softer than I intended. "Now, let’s get to the dinner, shall we? Before the food gets too cold."

After directing Claudia to take a seat at the massive marble dining table, I plated the medium-rare Wagyu steaks I had prepared and carried them out. Her exhausted eyes immediately widened, glued to the steaming, perfectly seared meat.

"Wow... you actually cooked this by yourself?" she asked, raising her eyebrows in disbelief.

"Yeah. And this time, I am completely confident. It is good. Trust me," I smirked, taking my seat across from her.

She giggled, picking up her fork. "I definitely believe you. It smells absolutely incredible."

"Let’s dig in."

She carefully cut a small slice and took a bite. Her eyes instantly fluttered closed, a quiet sigh escaping her lips as she genuinely savored the rich taste. "My God. Daeron, this is delicious! It’s so juicy and tender." She opened her eyes, shaking her head. "You really are a great chef! I don't think I've ever tasted this kind of steak before."

I chuckled, a massive wave of relief washing over me. "I’m very glad you like it! If you want another portion later, I’ll gladly cook it for you. I still have a few cuts left in the fridge!"

"Hey! Do you think I’m greedy?" she pouted playfully, pointing her fork at me. "But... I will absolutely hold you to that," she laughed, taking another eager bite.

We spent the rest of the dinner eating and exchanging stories, venting about our funniest and most frustrating moments dealing with customers at the café. It was an incredibly pleasant, effortless dinner. I hadn't felt this relaxed in my own loft in years.

After we completely cleared our plates, she reached down and pulled a small, white cardboard box out of the paper bag she had been carrying all night.

"What’s that?" I asked, wiping my mouth with a napkin.

She smiled proudly. "This is dessert!"

She carefully popped open the lid, revealing a beautiful, rich, dark chocolate cake covered in glossy frosting.

"Wow. Did you buy that from the bakery you were just working at?"

"No!" her smile grew wider, reaching her eyes. "I made it myself! The owner permitted me to stay late and use the kitchen to bake my own cake after my shift ended!"

"Can I taste it?" I asked, genuinely excited.

She giggled. "Of course! I made it for us!"

"Let me grab some small plates," I said, pushing my chair back and walking toward the glass cabinets. "How about we eat it out on the balcony?"

"You have a balcony too?"

I pointed toward the massive glass doors. "Right out there. The view is great. I’ll drag the portable heater outside so we don't freeze."

She looked toward the snowy balcony, standing up and gathering our empty plates. "Alright. Let me wash the dishes first."

"No need! Just leave them in the sink. Let’s go enjoy the cake! I can’t wait to taste it."

"Nu-uh!" she protested stubbornly. "You already cooked an amazing dinner for me. Let me at least wash the dishes to earn my keep. You can go out and eat the cake first if you want!"

"Well, don’t blame me if you only get a tiny bite left," I teased, grabbing the cake box and heading for the door.

"Hey! You greedy bastard!" she laughed, turning the kitchen faucet on.

I stepped outside into the freezing December air. I quickly set up the balcony, plugging in the glowing orange portable heater and placing the cake and plates on the outdoor coffee table.

Not gonna lie, this cake looks incredible. I cut a small slice with a fork and took a bite. The rich, slightly bitter flavor of the dark chocolate and the soft, moist texture of the sponge instantly melted on my tongue.

Holy shit. She can actually bake. This is fucking delicious. Sitting back against the cushions and enjoying the warm cake on the freezing balcony, while looking out at the glowing Chicago skyline under the falling snow... it was absolutely fantastic.

A few minutes later, the glass door slid open. Claudia stepped out onto the balcony, wrapping her heavy winter coat tightly around herself. She smiled at me—I had already shamelessly devoured a quarter of the cake.

"Hey! Don’t blame me! You’re the exact person who told me to eat it first!" I defended myself, pointing my sticky fork at her.

"I’m glad you like it," she said quietly, sitting down on the thick floor cushion next to the heater. But her bright energy had suddenly vanished. "I’m sorry, though. I only brought you this."

I stopped chewing. I looked at her, noticing her dark eyes looked deeply sorrowful under the glow of the city lights. "Hey. What are you talking about? This cake is fantastic!"

She looked me in the eye, her voice tight with intense shame and guilt. "It’s just some... cheap cake, Daeron."

"What?"

"I saw the grocery label on the steak wrapping in the kitchen trash while I was washing the dishes," she whispered, looking down at her hands. "You made me a hundred-dollar Wagyu steak. And I shamelessly sat there and asked you to cook for me again. I’m so sorry. I didn't know."

"Hey. Stop doing that right now," I frowned, setting my plate down and leaning forward. "Look at me."

She reluctantly lifted her gaze.

"You have to stop comparing things based on the price tag, Clau. I bought that steak for you because I wanted to! And you deserve a good meal. But you know what the most important thing is? The intention. I bought a piece of meat from a store. You stayed late after an exhausting shift, stood in a hot kitchen, and spent hours making this delicious chocolate cake from scratch just for me. Your cake is worth a thousand of those steaks."

"…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t talk like that," she whispered, a massive weight lifting off her shoulders.

"Hey. It’s okay," I said gently. "But please, never talk like that again, alright?" I gave her a reassuring, warm smile.

Her genuine, beautiful smile slowly returned to her face. "Thank you, Daeron."

"No. I’m the one who should be thankful," I said softly, averting my gaze back toward the falling snow. "Besides... this is the first time I've spent Christmas Eve with someone in a very long time."

"…You spend Christmas alone?"

"Yeah… It has been years since I flew home to spend Christmas with my family," I admitted, the old, familiar ache of loneliness finally fading away. I looked back at her. "I’m genuinely glad you’re here, Clau. Truly. This is the best Christmas Eve I've ever had."

She looked deeply into my eyes for a long, silent second. Her brimming dark brown eyes radiated an incredible, healing warmth. And then, she gave me the softest, most genuine smile I had ever seen.

"This is the best Christmas Eve ever for me too, Cap’n."

I chuckled, a profound sense of peace settling into my chest. "Now, enough with the heavy, depressing shit. You have to finish the story about Roxanne! What happened after she dropped that massive bean sack?"

She giggled, her bright, witty energy fully returning. "Oh, you will absolutely not believe it!"

We spent the rest of the snowy Christmas night wrapped in blankets by the heater, eating chocolate cake and sharing simple, pleasant conversation.

For me, it truly was the best Christmas Eve I had ever experienced.