" Oh, stop it already. Pick you up at seven?" Sure." We had reached my car, and she started walking toward hers. "Um, Claire, do you know where I live?"She stopped and turned around, a look of chagrin on her face. "Haven't a clue. I should really ask you while you're still here, shouldn't I?" Might help," I deadpanned."So, where did you want to go?" Claire asked as I slid into the passenger seat."You've been around Boston for a few years. You tell me." Any special requests?" Actually, do you know a good seafood place that's not big on lobster or crab?" I think I can arrange that."An hour and a half later, we were looking for a parking space around the club district, having enjoyed a lovely dinner of fish and shrimp--mostly fish, as I was watching my cholesterol. Filling, but not too filling; dancing on an overly full stomach is not part of the recipe for a wonderful evening. Don't believe me? Try it yourself, but don't say I didn't warn you.After we finally tracked down a space, we. I was paralyzed with fear. A million thoughts flooded my head. “Mark! Wake up!” I shook him. “Uhh? What's the matter?” he replied, half asleep. “We have an intruder down stairs!” “Don't worry, sweetheart. It's just my brother.” “In the Santa Clause suit? Why didn't you say something?” I whispered, in a strained voice. “I didn't want to wake you and the kids. He took an earlier flight. I told him he could sleep on the couch. We'll have one more plate for breakfast. No big deal. And don't be mad, but he volunteered to play Santa for the kids when he saw the costume.” I stared at Mark in disbelief, searching for words to say. My thinking was almost panicked. Almost instantly I weighed my options. If I revealed what happened, it might cause a rift between brothers. And if I got pregnant, Mark would question if it was his child. I was really fucked, in more ways than one! After a long silence, Mark said, "Come on, sweetheart, don't be mad that Gary asked to be Santa. Now come to bed..
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