Light the Lamp, page 18
[MISHA] I’m glad you two are doing well.
[MISHA] I saw some of the comments on your recent posts. People are fucking rude.
[MISHA] Harper is a beautiful person. Don’t let them forget that.
[PIETR] Never. It is my sole purpose in life now.
“Are you still talking to Levin?” Harper asked. She’d let go of him when he’d started texting, going to sit on the bed again.
“He had follow up questions,” he said. He pocketed the phone once more before crossing the room to lie down on the bed. He stared up at Misha Levin’s younger face. He had aged in the decade since the poster’s photo had been taken. He had shown a certain amount of arrogance back then. Yet, he could see the pride and playfulness that also hid behind the man’s expression.
“How long did you used to stare up at that face before falling asleep?” He asked.
“I didn’t.” She stretched out beside him. “I mostly stared at the Johnny Depp poster on the back of the door.”
“Oh fuck, I can’t compete with Johnny.”
She kissed him before he could speak again. “I would never have a chance with Johnny Depp. I wouldn’t even know what to do if I did.”
“You underestimate your appeal.”
“Only to you. Which is perfectly fine with me. You have enough people fawning over you for the both of us. It’s nice to be the only one for you.”
“Hey,” he whispered after they broke apart from kissing, “can I confirm something?”
“What?”
“You really do not want to have kids?”
“I really don’t.”
“Your nephews seem to really love you.”
“I like being the Cool Aunt,” she said. “Having my own isn’t something I want.” She looked down at him. “That’s not going to change, Pietr. Is...is it for you?”
“God no,” he scoffed. “They are cute kids, but holy shit! They are loud. And with kids around, I could never do dirty things to you anywhere I wanted. Would always have to be behind closed doors. What the fuck kind of life is that?”
She laughed. “You had me worried for a minute.”
“I know you said it was unlikely you’d get pregnant anyway, with the PCOS,” he said. “Just in case, we should consider a more permanent birth control?”
“Women’s reproductive medicine is a bit of a shit-show,” she responded.
“I was thinking vasectomy,” he explained. “It would be me going under the knife.”
“You’d do that? Even though we’ve only been together for a couple of months?”
“Da.” He nodded. “I could freeze sperm; in case we ever did change our minds and want to try. Better to not take chances if we don’t want to though, yah?”
“If it’s what you want to do. It’s your decision. I’m not going to try and talk you out of it. I think it’s great. Very proactive of you.” She frowned. “This isn’t because you hate condoms, or something is it?”
“Nyet. I don’t mind condoms. Less mess. Cleaner for certain things. I won’t lie and say I’m not curious what it will feel like to be inside you with nothing between us at all.” He turned onto his side, curling his arm to brush the back of his fingers across her cheek. “Condoms would be back-up for as long as you want. We can talk about that as we go on.”
She hummed, nodding. “When would you want to do it?”
“I will have to check schedule. Soonest will probably be over All-Star Game week when we are off. Otherwise, it will depend on how we do in the play-offs. May have to wait until summer break.”
“There’s no rush.”
“No, but I also don’t want to put it off.”
“We could have sex less.”
“Abso-fucking-lutely not.” He leaned in, nipping at her neck.
“Oh gross!” A voice sounded in the doorway. “I have to sleep in that bed!”
“Sorry Olivia. We weren’t doing anything.” Harper pushed him away before sitting up. “Finally sick of your brothers?”
“Mom asked me to come get you. She wants you to make the shark-cootie board or whatever.”
“Right.” Harper patted Pietr on the hip. “Come on. Maybe the boys are ready to go over and see the cows. You can go hang out with them for a bit. Get away from the women folk.”
“You are not women folk,” he murmured against her ear.
“Here, I am,” she reminded him. “Whether they accepted I’m non-binary or not.”
“Oh yeah!” Olivia’s hands went to her hips. “Am I supposed to call you something other than Aunt? My friends and I couldn’t come up with a gender-neutral term.”
“Aunt is fine,” Harper assured her. “If you want to call me Harper, that’s fine too.”
Olivia pondered that for a moment. “I’ll think about it.” She turned on her heel, trotting down the hall toward the stairs.
“It’s a good thing we have private cabin,” Pietr decided aloud. “With locking door.”
Chapter Thirty-one
Over the next couple days, Pietr became well acquainted with the Wyatt family. Seymour, once he had cooled off to his daughter’s secret keeping and returned to the house, was a likeable man. He was the quiet sort, until you got him talking about something he liked –mostly his cattle or the resort. Val was the kind of Mom who seemed to be in everyone’s business, while trying to shove food on them. Harper had an annoying way of coming between him and the offered treats, which he enjoyed less than her cutting the woman off from asking prying questions.
Emma, he noticed, had a tendency to pick at her sister. Asking the last time she’d had her hair done, if she had used the gym membership code she’d sent her, should Harper be eating so much sugar? Pietr squeezed Harper’s hand every time he felt her tense between her mother’s prying and Emma’s inquisition. Jake on the other hand, since whatever had happened in the kitchen, was the epitome of chill. He introduced Pietr to his girlfriend and daughter when they joined the family on Christmas Eve.
And the kids were a mixed bag. Zachary and Aron were full of energy and excitable. They spent most of the day sneaking around the tree, trying to get a count of how many presents each of them had. Olivia, when she wasn’t loving on one of the dogs, was either playing video games or stealing one of her parent’s phones to play games or take photos of everyone. And the baby, Flora, kept getting passed around the adults. Emma even handed her over to Harper who, while willing to hold the baby for a few minutes, was happy to pass her back to her mother. For her part, Flora didn’t seem fazed by the game of hot potato that she found herself acting as the potato in. She was sweet and giggly –but Pietr, when it was his turn to have her foisted in his arms admitted with a whisper in her ear.
“I am calling about that vasectomy as soon as we get home to New York, Flora dear. This is exhausting.”
Flora laughed and tried to grab his nose.
As the family settled for the post-lunch gift unwrapping, Val clapped her hands for attention.
“I have a little something for everyone. –I know, I know! We agreed on no gifts, but I’m the Mom. Get over it.”
She handed each of the kids a various sized gift before pulling a box of smaller wrapped packages from the back. She dropped one into each of her children’s laps, as well as their partner’s, including Pietr’s.
“For me too?” He was surprised.
“It’s not much.” Val waved her hand dismissively. “I like to knit in the evenings.”
Harper had already ripped into hers, uncovering a non-binary flag patterned slouchy hat.
“Aw, Mom, this is so cute!”
“I’m glad you like it.” Val settled onto the couch next to Seymour. Her husband had draped the thick red scarf she’d given him around his neck. “Open yours, Pietr. I hope it’s okay. I went on a limb, seeing as how you’re dating Harper.” she gave a little shrug.
Pietr picked carefully at the tape, savoring unwrapping the gift. Harper leaned back, watching the kids unwrap the next set of gifts that Emma handed over. Ginny and Jacob were each unwrapping something for Flora too.
“Oh, I love it,” he declared as the hat was revealed. The yarn was some of the softest wool he’d ever touched, in a rainbow variegated pattern. It was like Harpers, with more colors. He pulled it on, covering his ears. “How does it look?”
Harper reached up, adjusting the brim so a peek of his hair was visible, then scrunched up the back. “Perfect.”
He reached into his pocket with one hand, and wrapped his arm around Harper’s shoulder with the other. “Come here. We’ll send pic to my parents.”
“For your parents, not for Instagram?”
“Maybe for Instagram too. If it’s a good one. I haven’t posted yet today.”
“Hold on.” Harper adjusted her hat too.
“Ooh, let me take it!” Olivia got up from where she’d unwrapped a box of books from Harper. She plucked Pietr’s phone from him. “The back camera is better anyway.” She scrutinized them for a moment. “...You could look happy, you know.”
Harper laughed and Pietr pressed his forehead against her temple. There were a couple of clicks before Olivia continued.
“Do a nice smile. –C’mon, Harper! Stop laughing.”
“Sorry, sorry.” Harper cleared her throat. She put a hand on Pietr’s thigh and focused on her niece with a smile.
The camera shutter sound clicked again, and Olivia frowned. “You two are a lost cause. Between Harper laughing and Pietr not being able to stop making googly eyes.” She tossed the phone back at Pietr. “I tried.”
Olivia went to take another gift from Emma, who was now sporting a mustard cowl, before sitting back down on the floor.
“Which one should we send?” Pietr asked, giving the phone to Harper. “You pick.”
“Why do I have to pick?”
“Because I think you look cute in all of them,” he said. “You are more critical.”
Harper opened Instagram, flicking through the pictures before selecting one Olivia had snapped between her laughing. She had caught Pietr’s eyes for a moment. It was a good candid shot. She messed with the filter settings a little bit, brightening up the poor lighting.
“Here. You’re better at captions and hashtags.” She handed it back. “Then send the filtered pic to your parents.”
“Good choice.” He had to take his arm off her shoulders to type.
Favorite Christmas gift so far from Mom-Wyatt. @NBWyatt.Write and I could not be happier at @WyattRetreats today. #ChristmasEve #HandmadeKnit #LGBTQ #EnbyFashion #RainbowFashion #Nonbinary #Queer #Pansexual #MerryChristmas #ILoveYou
When he’d finished, he sent the picture to the group text with his parents. As he pocketed his phone again, he noticed the kids had made a disaster area of the floor with bits of bright wrapping paper all over the place.
“Did you two get each other anything?” Emma asked, squeezing onto the sofa next to Harper. “Thom was incredibly romantic and bought me a new Shark floor steamer.”
“You asked for it!” Thom exclaimed from where he was helping Aron unclip the safety plastic from a new toy. “You literally put it in the cart and said this is what you’re buying me for Christmas.”
“He doesn’t have a romantic bone in his body.” Emma sighed.
Harper shook her head. “Coming was kind of the gift. And the night in Minneapolis.”
“That’s sad. Surely you make enough to buy my sister something sparkly. Or something boringly useful, as the case may be.” Emma teased. “How much do you make anyway? Athletes are wealthy right?”
“Emma, that’s rude!” Harper admonished.
“Is fine. My salary is basically public record after the trade,” Pietr said. “After you include the endorsement deals and all of that I bring in a little less than fifteen million.”
Pietr had never actually seen someone spit-take before. Jake, who’d been sipping a bottle of water in one of the recliners, coughed and snorted simultaneously. He shook his head, trying to clear his nose.
“Say that again,” he gasped.
“Fifteen million.”
“A year?”
“Da.” Pietr nodded. “It sounds like more than it is. Mostly it is invested for comfortable retirement. Is not like I walk around with that much in my wallet. It is not liquid,” he explained. “I own a little property. Take care of my parents. I donate to several charities. What is left is comfortable.”
“Holy shit.”
Harper sighed, covering her face with her hand. Pietr glanced over at her, unsure if he’d done something wrong. As he’d said: his salary had printed in every hockey magazine and blog when the trade had been finalized. He wasn’t even the highest paid player on the team, much less in the whole league.
“Now I wish I’d used a more expensive yarn in that hat,” Val murmured.
Pietr took an exaggerated shift backward. “Nyet. Hat is perfect, just as it is. You are very skilled. Worth top dollar but is now priceless to me.” He tugged it down over his ears again. The yarn really was soft. “What is this, anyway?”
“Merino,” she said. “I would have liked to have found something locally spun, but so many of our local sheep and alpaca farmers keep to natural colors. I don’t trust myself to dye anything.”
Harper seemed relieved that the conversation had moved past money to Val’s workmanship.
“They’re very nice, Mom,” she said.
“Yeah, I love my cowl.” Emma pet the piece around her neck. “Is mine Merino too?”
“Yours is an angora blend I picked up at Joanne’s. Be careful if you wash it, to dry it flat and stretch it so it doesn’t shrink.”
Pietr relaxed into Harper, the awkwardness around his wealth seeming to have disappeared. He slipped his fingers between hers, half-listening as Emma asked her Mom more questions about the wool choices. He leaned in.
“Did I do something wrong?”
“No, bae,” Harper assured him. She kissed his cheek. “I’m honestly surprised they didn’t google it, since they didn’t have issues googling everything else. Sometimes my family is...a bit much.”
“They love you,” he murmured. “They want the best for you.”
“They want to be up in my business all the time.”
He hummed, not wanting to argue or push the conversation more. He could see both sides. Harper feeling overwhelmed with the pressure of them wanting to be more involved in her life. The rest of the family feeling as though they were left out and/or lied to by omission. There probably wasn’t a real solution. Or, not one any of them wanted to hear.
Pietr pressed another kiss below the brim of her hat. Then he looked up. “Are there more of those rosettes?”
“Oh!” Val practically leapt from her seat. “Of course. Let me go grab you some.”
“Ma,” Harper admonished, “he doesn’t need them!”
“It’s Christmas,” Val quipped over her shoulder. “Calories don’t count on Christmas.”
Chapter Thirty-two
The next morning, Pietr awoke before Harper did. Emma, Thom, and the kids would be leaving that morning to go to Thom’s parents’ home, an hour away. Jake and Ginny would be taking Flora to Ginny’s parents, in the nearest town, and Seymour and Val were going to have lunch with some friends. He was looking forward to a completely schedule free day alone with Harper.
He slipped out of bed, going for his carry-on bag. It had been mostly forgotten since they’d arrived, but there was a special gift in one of the inside pockets. He had been carefully considering when and how to give it to her. First thing Christmas morning seemed like a good time. He stopped to toss a few chunks of wood into the little woodstove that heated the cabin. It had died down overnight, but with fresh fuel, it happily flickered up to life again.
Harper hummed as he slipped back into bed, the small box shoved into the pocket of his boxers. He kissed the back of her shoulders, slipping the thin strap of the cami she wore out of the way of his lips.
“You let in the cold,” she grumbled.
“It will warm up soon.” His hand skirted the hem of the camisole. She grunted in reply.
“I have something for you.” He nuzzled her neck.
“Is it your cock? ‘Cause I don’t want it right now. Maybe later.”
He chuckled. “No, it is not. Although...that is yours, whenever you want it. Within reason.”
She inhaled stretching her shoulders before shifting over to blink up at him. “What? It’s still early.”
“I wanted to give it to you before,” he bit a lip, “before I lost my nerve.”
She raised a sleepy eyebrow.
“It is not what you might be thinking.” He pulled out a small, square black box from his pocket. “Let me be clear. This is not a proposal.”
“I should certainly hope not. Tanner would be pissed if you picked out a ring without his approval. You can do with that information what you will.” She chuckled, taking the box. “What is it then?”
“Open it.”
Harper yawned, wiping a hand across her face. She shimmied, sitting up against the headboard before she cracked open the box. She stared down into it, then over at him.
“This isn’t a proposal.”
“No.”
“But it’s a ring. An expensive looking ring.”
She pulled out the three interconnected bands of gold, rose gold, and silver. The middle, silver, band, had something engraved in Russian.
“It is a Russian style of ring, that is popular for engagements,” he admitted. “I am giving it to you as a promise if you accept it. That, some day, I will exchange it for a wedding ring. If you want to marry me, that is.”
Harper rotated the bands, testing how they laid together. She resisted sliding it onto her left ring finger. To see how it fit. How it looked. “How is it different from an engagement ring then?”
“Think of this as pre-engagement ring,” he said. “I want you to always have proof that I love you.”
“Is that what it says? The engraved bit.”
“Da.” He kissed her bare arm above the elbow. “It says it again inside, in English.” He watched her twist the rings, reading the words on the inside. The two outer bands had their initials. P.I. on the gold band, H. W. on the rose gold. “Do you hate it?”
