How To Bake The Perfect Christmas Cake. Gina Calanni

area, and I found one, you might have already been there.” Jack runs his hand through his hair. “Anyways, I’d like to take you.”

      “I like surprises.” I gaze up at him. He could be a model from a Dolce & Gabanna ad, he’s fresh-shaven, the scent of sandalwood and mint are so close to my nose, I want to stand on my tippy-toes and inhale.

      “Then we make a great couple, because I like giving them.” Jack winks at me.

      I melt. He used the word “couple” and a wink. Keep it together, Lauren, this is all very new.

      I offer the Frosty mug to him. “Cream or sugar?”

      “Sugar.” Jack holds onto my hand with the mug and reaches his other arm around my head and pulls me into a deep kiss. I’m glad brushing my teeth immediately upon awaking is a part of my daily routine. Our tongues swirl together like a slow erupting volcano, but with each turn further lava flows over the side. I’m falling deeper and deeper.

      I open my eyes. I have to be smart about things. I don’t want to get lost in moment, I’m a realist. I want to be positive and hope for the best, but I don’t have a great track record. My last long-distance relationship was an uber-fail and a waste of time. I can’t let this happen again. I pull back from Jack and release the Frosty mug. I slide over to the cupboard and take down my second favorite Christmas mug, it’s one my mom got me: it’s an illustration of Santa except he’s wearing a cowboy hat and sitting in his red sleigh and in the place of reindeers are armadillos and the word bubble reads “Ho Ho Ho Y’all”.

      I push it underneath the Keurig drip and select another Columbian Supremo from my basket. It drops into the machine with ease and I press the button. I eye Jack, he’s reading something on his phone.

      “Everything okay?” His eyebrows are furrowed, which indicates to me the answer would be no.

      “Yeah, I need to call my Aunt Minnie, she’s left me several messages.” Jack moves out of the kitchen. I raise my eyebrows. He had mentioned his Aunt Minnie over Thanksgiving, but only the fact of her having like five cats or something. I glance at my Texas cup, it’s filled. Finally. I pick up the pink and white carton and drop a few swirls into the mug. I open up the drawer underneath my Keurig and find a small spoon. I stir my coffee and toss the spoon into the sink.

      I take a sip from my mug and pace in the kitchen. I don’t want to interrupt Jack’s conversation. I sigh, I wish I had my phone on me. I left it on my nightstand. I saunter over to my window and peek out.

      I have a perfect view of the garbage bins. It’s not like I enjoy checking out the trash, but I do like to see if there are any furniture items I might want to snag before Bob Dickerson gets his wheelin’ and dealin’ hands on them. I lift up one of the slats of my blinds. The bin area is empty. I shut it and turn around.

      “Ready for breakfast?” Jack is braced in the doorway. I almost want to giggle. He reminds me of a football player about to ask me on a date. Well, I guess technically he has asked me on a date, but he’s not a football player. Did Jack play sports in school?

      “Yes, let me grab my purse.” I slide past him and stride into my room to grab my purse and phone. There is so much I don’t know about Jack. Maybe I should have him fill out a questionnaire. I laugh. How awkward that would be? Oh hey, Jack, would you mind filling out a few questions about your background? I’m feeling uneasy about where this is going and my heart…so if you wouldn’t mind…then pass him a stack of papers. Ha!

      I stroll back into the living room. Jack is on the phone again. “Yes, Aunt Minnie, I’ll call you with an update soon…I promise. All right, love you too.” He swivels. Jack’s eyebrows raise.

      “Ready?” I raise my own eyebrows in return.

      “Yes, I’m starving.” Jack opens the door and I follow him. Jack is waiting at the landing for me. I smile. He offers me his hand and I take it. It’s firm and warm. We proceed down the stairs and make it to my car. I cup the door handle.

      “Let’s take my car.” Jack tugs me away from my car.

      “Okay, let me grab my garage remote.” I open the car door and take the remote control from my visor clip. I hit it once and the clatter of the garage door opening resounds through the garage. I follow Jack as we go to his car. It’s parked on the street in front of my town house. I remember it from last night when he was following me home, but even if I hadn’t seen it, I would know it’s his car, it’s a white egg-shaped car. It seems as if most standard rental cars are white egg-shaped vehicles.

      Jack clicks the remote and opens the passenger door for me, waiting until I am fully adjusted in the chair before he closes it. He slides into the seat next to me and starts the engine. There are several great brunch options within a five-mile radius of my house.

      “How did you sleep?” I know this is a dull question, but I feel like it’s my duty as a host to ask.

      Jack eyes me and nods. “Better than I have in weeks.”

      I laugh. “Really?” I squint my eyes. I did go for the slightly upgraded mattress, is this the cause of Jack’s peaceful rest?

      Jack rubs his thumb and finger over his jaw. “Yes, really. Lauren, you have a very comfortable guest bed. I might have to write you a review on Airbnb.”

      I roll my eyes then bob my head back and forth. “Alright, well that’s good to hear. Everyone can use a little extra cash over the holidays.” I wish I could take back the last sentence. I hope he doesn’t think I’m taking a shot at him about Vintage Estates.

      “True. But now that I think about it, I wouldn’t want Airbnb to be your means of extra earning potential.” Jack switches his turn signal and I notice we are headed south on Highway 83. My curiosity is further piqued as to which restaurant location he will choose. We are getting closer to the Waterfront cafes. If the windows were open, I’m sure we would get a waft of the ocean.

      Jack is driving down the streets like a local, if I didn’t know better I would have assumed he grew up here. Several turns and the car begins to slow down to a searching pace. Jack is on the hunt for street-side parking. I smirk at this. Parking on the street within steps of the harbor is a hit or miss on most days but a Saturday in December? The car jolts to a halt stop. Unbelievable. A person is backing out of a spot. And right in front of The Platters. Hmm…is this the place he had in mind? Platters is one of Brianna’s and my favorite brunch spots, especially when we are nursing hangovers. They have a Hang Me Over My Yammies Pancakes and Patties breakfast to cure any headache and weak stomach. I don’t know what they put in this dish, but it works. Every time. Jack steers the car into the too-small-for-me-to-park space with two adjustments. Impressive.

      “Come on, my little wild hare, a feast awaits us.” Jack’s eyes flash a wicked hunger.

      When I’m hungry I get like a sad Panda until I get some form of nourishment and my blood sugars start rising. I raise my eyebrows at him. “Okay, Hawk-eye.” I grab the car handle and step out onto the street. Brr. It is cold, even with my navy pea coat and white scarf. I’m freezing. Jack rushes around to my side of the car and wraps an arm over my shoulder.

      “I’m okay with the idea of Hawk-Eye…but I never really bonded with his character.” He is guiding us directly towards the entrance of The Platters. My stomach gurgles. The sounds of cars are loud enough to ensure Jack did not hear it.

      “Well I haven’t bonded with the idea of a wild hare…so I guess we are even?” I air quote the operative word.

      Jack laughs. “But, Lauren, you are my wild hare.” He leans down and kisses my head. Little tingles flow down my body like sand in an hourglass filling up the lower half and causing an eruption of emotion.

      I’m blaring ‘Fever’ in my internal sound system and flames are igniting everywhere, but Jack is steering us in through the doors. The smiling hostess feasts her eyes on Jack and I furrow my brows. Um hello, he’s obviously with a date.

      “Hi there,