𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐇 // 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐱

EVER SINCE COMING HOME from the Christmas-cup shopping with Eila, Connor had not used any other cup. He had, without even being ashamed about it, attempted to make homemade hot chocolate ( though failing, almost feeling as if he had let down the memory of his mother ), before returning to the comfort of his coffee-machine, and spending the evening watching Formula 1 with coffee in his Christmas-cup.

He would not be afraid of admitting it to Eila; after all, he knew she would just be happy about learning how he loved his cup. Will, on the other hand, would torment Connor about his affection for the ceramic cup with a Santa and a reindeer on it, even though he knew the affection value for the surgeon.

That day, as Connor returned home from work, he decided to swing by the little grocery store at the corner by the apartment building. The store, which was owned by a small Chicago-native family, was one of Connor's favorite shops during the rest of the year, though he found himself avoiding it during Christmas time. He felt somewhat ashamed as he plastered on a smile, worried about what the owner of the store would say upon seeing the surgeon walking in between the shelves of pasta and cookies.

               "Connor Rhodes, and at the sixth of December?" The man behind the counter furrowed his brows, though a grin was spreading on his lips. "Either there's something awfully wrong with you, or there's something awfully wrong with me."

"Don't worry, Mark — I'm not bearing bad news, and that goes for both of us," Connor chuckled, shoving his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat, glancing around the store. Mark and his family had always loved Christmas, and their store had always been a living proof of it. The windows were decorated with various types of mistletoes and stars, pots of flowers and various other decorations all over the shelves that were not covered with the regular groceries.

"What brings you, Connor? I mean, I know you've never been too fond of Christmas, not since long before your mother passed, and though you have never said anything, I've always known that's why you have avoided our store from the end of November until January," Mark sighed, tilting his head a little, as he shot the surgeon a curious look. "I'm not blaming you, kid — Christmas is, believe or not, the toughest holiday and the toughest season for most of the people. You never had an easy family to celebrate Christmas with."

"You're saying something there," Connor sighed, returning his gaze towards the man in front of him. "It's been a while since I celebrated Christmas in the same house as my father."

Mark smiled, though Connor heard the sigh the older man let out. "Well, I want you to know that there's always a place for you at our table during Christmas — and you do not need to let us know in advance whether you want it or not; you're very welcome to just show up, Connor."

                "Thank you, Mark — really, I don't know what to say or feel," Connor smiled back, nodding gratefully. "However, the thing that brought me here today was actually Christmas cards. Do you have any laying around the store, by any chance? I'm well aware I'm awfully late, and if I am to send any — well, they won't get delievered until January, probably, but it's worth it."

               "Of course, let me go check in the back; had a pre-school teacher by earlier, and you could say she bought a few cards," the older man chuckled, disappearing through a door to the back of the store, returning shortly after with a stack of cards in his hand. "Here you go, Connor. I don't know how many you need?"

                Without being able to come up with a reasonable number, Connor sighed, shrugging slowly. If the Rhodes' had ever sent out Christmas cards while Connor grew up, he had never been included in writing them — and sure as hell not in sending them, as it had all ( quite possibly ) been done by his father's secretary. "I don't know, Mark. This is my first rodeo — at least on my own, but I can't say I've been too much included in the past ones," he sighed, pulling out his wallet. "You know what — I'll take them all. When it comes to it, I'm not writing them alone, and if there's someone left, I'll just save them for the coming Christmases."

               Shortly after, Connor was standing in the elevator of the apartment building, nervously waiting for it to reach his floor. He was well aware that Eila most likely had planned something for them already, and only prayed that she would accept his request to change the plans. He gave the door two hard knocks, waiting patiently for her face to show up as she opened, that warm, kind smile of hers greeting him as he got to step into her apartment.

                Eila and Connor had not even spent a full week together yet, but it all felt so natural. They way she almost had a radar, simply knowing when he was tired and needed rest, or the fact that he could always make her smile, no matter what. He wrapped the hand in his pocket tighter around the pack of cards, careful not to bend them.

                "Connor, hey," Eila smiled as she finally opened the door, seeming somewhat surprised to see him there ( though she was the furthest from disappointed to see that it was him standing at her door ). "I was just about to send you a text, to ask if you had gotten home — I stopped by you earlier, and you weren't home."

               "I know, I, uh, I got caught up at work. Paper-work, and the head of my department was trying to get me to say I like working with the new surgeon he hired," Connor sighed, letting his shoulders sink back to a normal level as he stepped into Eila's apartment. "However, I don't know what you had planned for us today — but could we scrap that? I have something else in mind, you see."

               Eila furrowed her brows as she looked at him, watching the hopeful smile spread on his lips. Instead of giving him a direct answer, she tilted her head slightly to the right, indicating she wanted him to continue.

               "I want us to write Christmas cards." Connor breathed out quickly, pulling the cards out of his pockets, also pulling out his wallets, and several of the reciepts he would find himself accept at various stores, only to forget them in the pocket of his coat. "And look — you're always well prepared, so I expect you to have written and sent your cards already, but I have never written a Christmas card in my entire life, and I overheard Will and Natalie talk about it today—,"

               "Of course," Eila cut him off, a slight chuckle in her tone. "Actually, my plan for today kind of fell through — every December I go to see The Nutcracker at the ballet, and I had hoped we could do that today, though I couldn't get us tickets for any other day than tomorrow."

               Connor looked surprised as he kept his gaze on Eila, unsure of what to say. "You want to bring me, a tattooed heart-surgeon with no good relationship to Christmas, to a ballet?" He raised an eyebrow, slowly shrugging off his coat.

               "Your tattoos and your occupation has nothing to do with why you're at the ballet, Grinch," Eila rolled her eyes, snatching the cards from his hands as she walked to her couch. "Besides, we could go out for a drink first, and then head to the ballet, and right home afterwards. However, if you don't want to, or don't feel comfortable, I won't push you."

               "Tuxedo event, or just nice clothes?"

                "Just nice clothes."

                The grin spread on Connor's lips as he dropped down in the couch opposite from her, a pen in his hand ( though Eila had no idea where he had gotten the pen ). "You'll be happy to know I clean up nicely." He lifted a hand running it through his hair, before leaning forward. "Okay — cards. What do I focus on?"

               "Who do you want to write to?" Eila asked, a smile on her lips. "I mean, I often find it to be easier to figure out what to write, based on why I'm writing to. How about you write a Christmas card to Will?"

              Connor let out a heavy sigh, looking down at the clean paper-surface on the table in front of him, before slowly placing the tip of his pen against it. He noticed how Eila connected her phone to the Sonos-speaker, the soft melodies of her playlist with Christmas songs filling the living room, accompanying Connor's thoughts and search for words inside his head.

               She leaned forward, turning her head to read as he started scribbling words on the card, a smile forming on her lips. "You're doing good, Grinch. If this really is your first Christmas card, you either have some serious feelings for Will, or you're just a natural at all this Christmas."