Rockin’ Around the Christmas Train
Rowan
There are some things I’ll never love about Christmas. Commercial plastic disguised as a gift, for instance? Still on the hate list. The word nutcracker? It will eternally send a shiver down my spine.
But this woman right here, standing blindfolded in front of me on Main Street, Evergreen Falls? She’s the Christmas spirit embodied, and I can never get enough.
That’s why I’ve brought her here today on Christmas Eve, to the most Christmassy place I know.
“Are we nearly there?” Isla asks, one hand wrapped in my daughter’s, one hand tentatively out in front of her, as if to protect herself from unseen danger. And fair enough. When we hopped in the car this morning at the cabin, she no doubt wasn’t expecting to be blindfolded and taken on a surprise trip, destination unknown. Only fifteen minutes away, but still.
“Almost,” Mia replies, a giggle in her voice as she tugs my girlfriend’s hand and leads her around a lamppost with a wreath on it, then toward a tall building and out of the way of Mayor Bumblefritz and her dog, who don’t bat an eyelid at my daughter leading a blindfolded woman through town.
“I think I can guess where we might be,” Isla says playfully, and Mia stops her right out in front of our destination.
“Oh yeah?” I ask, bending down to pet Wanda, who’s on-leash beside me. “Want to bet on it?”
“You know I do.” Isla lips tease me with a smile as she laughs. “If I’m right, you’re making omelets tomorrow morning for breakfast. And pancakes.”
“Tell him to make waffles too,” Mia stage-whispers, and I shake my head. These two. “After speaking with my breakfast counsel, I would also like to request waffles,” Isla says in a stately, formal tone.
“You drive a hard bargain, but I’m up to the challenge.” I cock my head to the side. “And what do I get when I win?”
“When?” Isla asks, and if that snowflake scarf wasn’t covering her eyes right now, I know I’d see the fire in them I love so much. “In the unlikely event that I’m wrong, I’ll give you…what would you like?”
“You. Always you.” It’s an answer I give without hesitation, every single day. She’s the one I want to be with forever, all the time, and I can’t believe I almost didn’t take a chance two years ago when we were first learning to trust in love—and each other.
“You have me, always,” Isla says, but then taps a finger to her chin, as if she’s thinking. “I can smell…Christmas. Like cookies and gingerbread and all things nice.” Mia glances pragmatically down the street. “That’s probably just Aurora at the bak—” She claps a hand over her mouth. “Oh no! I ruined it!”
I laugh and ruffle her hair. “You didn’t ruin anything, kid. Isla would have guessed anyway.”
“It’s true. Evergreen Falls is my favorite place, but Main Street here is especially. From the bookstore to the bakery to Rudy’s, I always just feel…at home when I’m here.” Isla’s hands go up to her blindfold. “Now, can I take this off?”
“One minute.” I take Isla’s hand, then glance over my shoulder at Mia and hand her Wanda’s leash. This is it. Make or break time.
But, just like when I’m on the ice, I’m ready.
“Good luck,” Mia mouths, then gives me a thumbs-up as she points toward the doors. From a car parked down the street, Mom and Dad wave her over, waiting to pick her up as we’d planned. Mia scampers over to them, Wanda in tow, and I take a deep breath and lead Isla a few more blocks, to the edge of town, then inside the entrance to the depot.
As we walk farther in, a wooden Santa sings a mechanical “Ho, ho, ho,” and Isla’s smile widens.
“No peeking,” I warn her, and she squeezes my hand tighter as we head past the departures board, lit in purple and pink and blue for the season, then out the depot doors to the platform. I take a deep breath, but I’m not nervous. I’m ready. I’m more confident this time—surer, too, than I was when I’d planned to propose to my ex. That feels like a lifetime ago. This time, things are different. Isla—she’s the difference.
I position Isla so she’s facing the train, then I step behind her to untie the blindfold. As I move closer her intoxicating cherry scent goes to my head, the curves of her ass so near to my dick, and want surges through me as I remember the last time we were here.
“Should we leave the blindfold on?” Isla asks in a whisper. “If this is anything like our last train ride?”
We’ve made sexy private train rides in Evergreen Falls our thing. And why wouldn’t we? When you get something good in your life, you keep it.
That’s why I pull away the scarf, revealing my surprise. It falls from her eyes. Isla’s breath comes out in a shaky gasp.
In front of her is the Christmas train, the three red cars decked out in icicle lights. And there, on the side in a scripted font, is the name of the train this year. Or, rather, the name of the train today, for one night only.
It’s the Will You Marry Me Whistler.
I move in front of Isla and drop down to one knee, ready to be vulnerable again. “Isla, you’re everything I could ever want. You challenge me and excite me, and make me a better man. A better dad, even,” I say as I pull the small ring box from my pocket and open it, holding it out in front of me. “And I can’t think of a better Christmas gift than to spend the rest of my life, and all my Christmases, with you. Will you marry me?”
“Yes! Of course I will!” Isla throws herself at me, and I catch her in my arms—I never miss. Then her lips meet mine in a kiss that tastes like the holidays and forever, like the woman I love and can’t wait to make my wife.
When we come up for air, I slide the Christmas-green emerald ring on her finger, the diamonds clustered around it like starry drops of snow. And, as if it had been scripted, real flakes begin to fall from the sky, dusting Isla’s hair, her shoulders, her cheeks.
“All aboard,” the conductor says, ushering us onto the private train and then disappearing into his car.
And Isla and I enjoy another private train trip where we ride more than just the proposal express.
“Guess I’d better change your name to Mrs. Christmas now,” I say in a husk as she sinks down over my dick, sending heat coursing through my body.
And that’s how we spend all our Christmases ever after—in a heady mix of romance, family, and fucking that make it truly the best time of the year.
Looks like even the most grinchy of grinches can become a Christmas convert after all.
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