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Kira knew her mother wanted her to come back home for Christmas (“How do you know Uncle Alvie won’t accept your lifestyle if you never come visit after making that announcement”), but she didn’t want to risk this. Ty’s firepit fed by gas, so they wouldn’t have to get up. Chris’ eggnog with a splash of brandy. Lounging on a bench wide enough for the three of them (Chris was the warmth to her left and Ty to her right.) Her feet propped up on the edge of the stone circle, and everyone she loved in one place, enjoying the crackle of the fire in the relative silence of Ty’s neighborhood. This moment of peace made the frustration at answering Aunt Marie’s questions (“So, are you still getting married? Are there tertiary partners? How do you keep track of sleeping arrangements?”) worthwhile, but she wasn’t rushing to break this bubble of solitude.