As always: I don't know Kirkpatrick--I'm a big fan, but I don't know him. Le sniffle, le sigh.
He paces back and forth, watching the clock and wondering if she'll be in his arms the next morning. He's impatient, almost as if he's a kid again, waiting for the next morning.
Her flight was delayed on Sunday, and the last time she called him, she was still at RDU in North Carolina. "I'm trying to get there, Chris," she said. "I may be late, but I'm trying to be there."
He sits on the couch and turns on the TV. He watches ESPN for a moment, then starts to skim through the channels. Nothing's on. He sits the remote down, and tries to remember what else she'd said on the phone. Oh, yeah. "What do you want for Christmas?"
"Nothing, really. Just dinner and you."
"Is that it?"
"Yeah. All I want for Christmas is you."
He only sees Lindsey at Christmas. It's one of the few times when both their schedules are free and they can visit each other. Sometimes he misses seeing her everyday, like he did when they worked at Universal. He can just call her when that happens. But every Christmas, they find a way to see each other, come hell, high water, or snow.
When the phone rings, he jumps a little, then runs to get it. "Hello?" he asks. "Lindsey?"
She laughs softly. "Go to the door, Chris."
He hangs up the phone, then runs to fling open the door. She's here. He steps onto the porch and hugs her. "I thought you wouldn't make it," he mumbles. His nose is buried into her dark brown hair.
"I didn't think I would either..." she says, carefully tilting his head up so she can look in his eyes. "But somehow, I did. I had to. I'm your present, remember?"
He laughs, and kisses her. "Yeah. Thank you."
