#41daysofcheer

Unsure of what he truly wanted, he’d only taken a couple of recurring guest spots in some TV shows and a highly billed supporting role in an action comedy over the past year. Instead of acting, he’d spent more time focused on his writing, much to Ethan’s chagrin. Oh well, that had meant that he’d been able to travel with Jessica when she’d been filming on location in Australia, which had been much nicer than when they were both frantically busy throughout their entire engagement, barely seeing each other when they lived in the same city. Plus, he’d gotten to host SNL, so as far as he was concerned, that alone made the year since the release of Ninradell a professional success.

However, if Jessica kept feeding him fried food, his career options might be a moot point, as he was going to put on so much weight and would only get hired as the fat funny friend. Growing up, his mom had only made special foods for the first night of Hanakkuh, the rest of the nights often consisting of lighting the menorah and him and Caleb quickly opening their gifts between homework and clubs and sports. But Jessica had been frying and baking for five nights straight at this point, and that was in addition to the dozens of Christmas cookies she’d been baking and stocking the freezer with over the past few weeks. If he only gained 10 pounds over December, it would be a miracle.

Sighing, he grabbed the fork off the plate and started in on yet another batch of latkes. They were tasty - Jessica’s cooking always was - but he was getting a little tired of having to serve as her Jewish food critic. He felt like an ass for even having thoughts like that, but after four nights of latkes and sufganiyot and fritters and donuts, Seth just wanted a damn salad. But he couldn’t complain about his wife’s cooking, particularly when it was all for his holiday, so he dug in dutifully.

After a couple of bites, he looked over at Jessica, standing behind the stove top, staring at him expectantly.

“They’re good, Iowa,” he said between bites.

“Are they better than yesterday’s? I’m trying to get them crispier.”

“They were both good. They’ve all been good.”

Jessica sighed heavily at that. Apparently, that was the wrong answer.

“Jessica, I don’t know what to tell you. You know you’re a great cook. Literally everything you’ve made for Hanukkah has been amazing.”

“But these are the foods you grew up with, and I’ve never made them before.”

“And I’m telling you, you did an awesome job. What else do you want me to say?”

“I just want to be sure I’m replicating your childhood Hanukkahs.”

“Jessica, I love you, but that is an insane goal.”

She scowled at him, so he pressed on, trying to explain himself before things devolved into a fight.

“First, I was raised in a very liberal Reform home. My parents essentially transformed Hanukkah into Jewish Christmas, so you could serve me eggnog and some of those cookies you’ve been baking and it would feel normal to me. Second, unless you want to fly my brother out so he and I can get in a fight before he leaves for a shift at Jungle Jims and you drive me to the Y for swim class, you won’t be able to truly capture the essence of my childhood Decembers. Third, and most importantly, the day I compare any aspect of you to my mother is the day you should file for divorce. So please, Jessica, do not make me compare your latkes to my mother’s.”

Jessica bit her lip and smiled at that, pausing for a few moments before she spoke up.

“I know how important holiday traditions are, and I just… I just want our kids to look back on my holiday meals with fond memories.”

Ah, well that explained a lot. They had been talking about trying to get pregnant starting sometime in the new year. And while the thought both simultaneously excited and scared the shit out of Seth, Jessica was clearly viewing this holiday season as a trial run for the future. A future where she obviously envisioned herself as some Hallmark movie version of a mother.

“Jessica, they will love your holiday meals because you’ll be the one making them. You could serve them frozen pizza and they would love it. Whatever you want to serve, that will be our tradition, okay? Or if you want me to handle the Jewish crap, that’s fair too. We’ll figure it out year by year, alright?”

“No way are you allowed to cook any holiday meals, Jewish or otherwise.”

“I’m a decent cook!” Seth retorted, but Jessica just cocked an eyebrow at him. “Fine, I’m an adequate cook,” he amended.

“The Valentine’s dinner debacle of 2018 says otherwise.”

“The steaks were just a little overly charred.”

“And the rolls were not cooked through and the vegetables were beyond rubbery and you forgot about dessert in the oven so the sprinklers went off-”

“Alright, alright, I concede that meal did not turn out well. Are you ever gonna let me live that down?”

“Nope,” she said, shaking her head as she flipped the rest of the latkes onto another plate, walked around the island, and joined Seth on the stool next to his. And while he knew that it was just in Jessica’s nature to go a little nuts about this sort of thing, that she would always be the type to go all out for the holidays, well sitting here, enjoying a home-cooked meal with her was more than festive enough for him. Whatever the future held for them and their family, spending it together would always matter more than what was on the menu.

Cassie had warned him that she’d had some chills and rigors a couple of days before they were set to leave, offered to cancel and steer far clear of him, but Bryce had blown off her concerns, convinced that she was just imagining that she’d caught influenza when it was far more likely that she’d contracted some other, less severe virus. He had clearly been very wrong. 

So, instead of a romantic getaway in a little cabin for 4 days, 3 nights, they were instead both miserable, aching, febrile, congested, and just plain gross-feeling. They were paying $145 a night to lay around in bed, buried under every blanket they could find in the rental. If Bryce wasn’t so exhausted, he might have been more annoyed by that fact, but all he could find the energy to do was to roll over before falling back asleep.

Bryce drifted off at some point, even though it was the middle of the afternoon. Between the flu and his weird sleep schedule on his current rotation, falling asleep during the day was very easy. Eventually, he woke up shivering, reaching to tug some of the blankets back from Cassie, but finding her half of the bed empty.

“Cassie?” he croaked out, his voice raspy, dry, and distorted.

A few seconds later, Cassie shuffled around the corner, wrapped in a blanket and carrying a glass of water. “Here’s your Tamiflu,” she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper as she set the glass of water and a couple of pills on the bedside table, “and some ibuprofen.”

Bryce picked up the orange and white capsule, but left the three red tablets on the nightstand, shaking his head, “I don’t need ibuprofen.”

“Bryce, you have a fever.”

“I know. The fever is an evolutionary advantage that helps the human body fight off viral infections. I’m not going to purposely undo that.”

“Fine, be miserable.”

“Fevers are only uncomfortable as you are spiking one. Once you reach your new-” Bryce countered, but he was cut off as Cassie let out a miserable groan.

“Enough, enough,” she said, crawling back under the covers on her side of the bed, mumbling something about “doctors” and “terrible patients.” Bryce took a sip of water to take the Tamiflu, noticing that Cassie hadn’t bothered to unwrap the blanket she’d been wearing as a cape as he did so.

“You planning on sharing that blanket?” he asked as he set down the glass of water and grabbed his phone in exchange.

“No,” she answered matter-of-factly before rolling to face him.

Bryce just stared at her for a moment, but when she raised her eyebrows defiantly, he knew how he had to respond. Mustering all his energy, he flung his body over to her side of the bed, wrapping his arms around her and grabbing at the blanket.

“Bryce!” she rasped out, wheezing out a few chuckles at his sudden move. Unfortunately for them both, the blanket somehow ended up on the floor in the midst of it all. “Now look what you’ve done,” she said, her tone much more playful than her words, wrapping her arms around his neck as they settled into a loose cuddle. 

“Gross, you’re all clammy,” she added with another couple of weak giggles.

“One, you are just and gross and clammy as me. Two, this situation is one hundred percent your fault, so you’re gonna help me pick out a restaurant for dinner.”

“Bryce, you’re insane if you think I’m leaving this cabin.”

He just shook his head, holding up his phone, “Delivery, Cassie. I don’t plan on letting you leave this bed.”

Normally, an innuendo like that would lead to some flirting back and forth before things escalated, but given the circumstances, Bryce was glad to draw a genuine laugh from Cassie, even though it did trigger a bit of a coughing fit. Sure, this was probably no one’s idea of a good weekend trip, but it could be a lot worse. At the end of the day, most trips were more about the company than the destination, anyway.

It was harder now, after the wedding. She’d been staying at the palace since then, wanting to give Drake and Riley some privacy as a newlywed couple, both for their sake and for her own. But going forward, she wasn’t sure if she would really be welcome to return to Valtoria. Drake and Riley likely didn’t want a friend hanging around, disrupting their family, intruding on their private life like a stray kitten, so pathetic and pitiful that they couldn’t say no to taking her into their home.

She knew that neither Riley nor Drake were big on planning, so she hadn’t wanted to bring up her living arrangements. But the clock was ticking down on their time in Lythikos, and while she had plans to head to Ramsford with Maxwell to help him prepare for the New Year’s Eve Beaumont Bash, the fact that she didn’t have firm plans after that was quite unsettling.

All these thoughts ran through her mind as she touched up her lipstick and tucked a stray hair into her braid, but she resolved to shove them aside as she made her way to meet up with the group on Christmas morning. Everyone was festive in their own way, even Drake deciding to forego the grumpy act, and the cheer was starting to lift Hana’s worries. But when it was Riley’s turn to show off her holiday outfit, Hana was floored when she stepped out not in the new red ball gown, but in the dress Hana herself had given her back in Shanghai.

As the boys complemented Riley on her festive attire and Olivia scoffed that her choice was more appropriate, Hana just stood there, partially in awe, partially worried. Riley hadn’t chosen to forego a more stunning piece just as a gesture to her, had she? So, as the group moved to head out of the boutique into the entry hall, Hana caught Riley’s eye and jerked her head, signaling her to stay back so she could talk to her.

“Please don’t feel like you have to wear that dress just because we’re here together. I completely understand if you’d like to wear a new gown for this occasion.”

“Don’t be silly, Hana. This is the dress I want to wear.”

“You’d really rather wear that dress than the beautiful gown Olivia selected?” Hana was sure her eyebrows were nearly at the top of her forehead, but she was just so surprised by that statement. 

“Of course. When have you ever seen me in something so poofy and over the top? That gown isn’t me at all.”

Hana tried to maintain a neutral face, but Riley’s words stung more than they should. She just didn’t like the other option. She’d probably just picked out a random red dress to pack, so that was why she’d chosen this dress. Forcing a smile, Hana nodded gently and moved to rejoin the group, but she must not have kept her face still enough, because Riley grabbed her forearm and tugged her backwards slightly.

“Hana, this a beautiful dress, but that’s not why I love it. No one has ever given me anything so personal, so thoughtful. You designed this piece that looks amazing and suits me and my personality so damn well. You somehow blended my style and your background into a dress that’s basically a work of art. All for me. Hana, I never thought anyone would put such thought into a gift for me.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve gotten better gifts in the past.”

Riley shook her head, raising her eyebrows and letting out a little sigh, “Trust me, Hana. Before you met me, no one had given me so much as a Starbucks gift card in years. You, on the other hand, crafted a very personal and time consuming gift within months of knowing me, a gift that I will treasure forever.”

“You aren’t just saying that?”

“No, I’m not just saying that,” said Riley. “Wanting to fit into this dress will serve as my diet and fitness inspiration for years to come,” she added with a wink.

Hana laughed at that, linking her arm through Riley’s and walking out of the boutique. As they made their way towards the entry where Liam, Maxwell, Drake, and Olivia where undoubtedly waiting for them, Riley kept talking.

“In addition to this gift, I should properly thank you for your very thoughtful wedding gift.”

“You already thanked me for the shoes.”

“No, I meant the fact that you stayed at the palace for the past couple of weeks. We’ve really appreciated having a bit of time with just the two of us, particularly since we couldn’t schedule our honeymoon right away. But Drake and I want you to know that you shouldn’t feel like you have to keep staying away. You can come home with us tomorrow if you want.”

Hana swallowed carefully, not wanting to start crying over something Riley was treating as so matter of fact, but the combination of relief and love she felt at that moment was nearly overwhelming. But it wasn’t the time for an emotional outburst, it was a time to celebrate, so Hana just smiled and shook her head, “I wouldn’t want to disappoint Maxwell; he’s so been looking forward to us party planning together. I’ll return to Valtoria after New Year’s.”

“Sounds good,” said Riley as they rounded the corner, breaking off to go talk to Olivia once they reached the entryway. While Riley had made her gratitude for the dress known, Hana couldn’t help but feel like she had been given an even greater gift just now. Her best friend planned to share her home with her even after getting married.

And so she thought until she arrived at Valtoria just over one week later, finding a framed photo on top of the dresser in the bedroom she’d been using. The photo had been taken by Maxwell when they were leaving Shanghai; Hana remembered it well. Riley had been telling her about all the wonderful things about New York City and how excited she was to share them with her. They’d both been giggly and giddy, and Hana had hugged Riley, laughing and silly. And here that photo was, framed and sitting on top of a piece of paper on which Riley had scrawled

Welcome home!

This time, Hana couldn’t help but cry, a few tears trailing down her cheek. Because her best friend didn’t think she was sharing her home with Hana - she saw her home as Hana’s home. And that degree of love was simply overwhelming.

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