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he’d bought a rubberized carpet for it and set up his small television on a shelf in there, and suddenly he had all the room in the world to work out, and not just a yoga mat. The cardio left him breathless, the strength part reminded him that he’d been unusually active, and the yoga relaxed all those tight muscles, but none of it, surprisingly, made him horny.
    He showered, set up his computer and computer desk in a corner of the living room, and then started dinner. At Jesse’s urging, he’d bought a cookbook, and tonight, it was mushrooms and onions cooked in chicken broth on top of a baked potato—no butter—with a breast of broiled chicken and a small salad.
    It wasn’t bad.
    He went to bed early, thinking of all he’d have to tell Jesse at lunch.

    IT WAS the telling that made it worth it. Jesse laughed —a lot—
    when Kit recounted the conversation the movers had about the couches. (“I never realized that ‘fuck’ was a noun, verb, adjective, adverb, and article!”) He giggled when Kit told him about the six zillion shopping trips. (“You know, it didn’t occur to me until the next day that I could have gotten all that shit at Target!”) And he was gratifyingly supportive about the cooking. (“Bagels and low-fat cream cheese, tomatoes, salad, canned vegetables. It’s weird how much shit I didn’t know a grocery store had in it until I shopped with a cookbook in my hand.”)

    Amy Lane

    Christmas With Danny Fit [37]

    They finished lunch (Kit brought it this time—chicken breast on wheat with apple slices and two yogurts for dessert) and Kit said, “So, when are you leaving for Truckee?”
    Jesse sighed. “Wednesday afternoon. I hope it’s okay if I leave early.”
    “No worries. I’ll probably be the only one in the office anyway—everyone else sort of just doesn’t show up. You could take the morning off if you wanted to. I’m good.”
    Jesse gnawed on his lower lip, the gesture making him look charmingly (terrifyingly) young. “You know, I hate to think of you all alone during Thanksgiving. I’ve…. Even when I moved out, I always had people to eat with.”
    Kit colored. He must have seemed so pathetic—it was embarrassing. He stood up to get rid of the lunch mess so he didn’t have to look Jesse in the eyes. “Are you kidding?
    Thanksgiving with out Ma? It’ll be the first time I have something to be thankful for.” He stopped for a moment and then added,
    “Besides my new assistant, of course,” with complete candor, even if he couldn’t look at Jesse when he said it.
    “I’m a ‘thankful’?” Jesse asked, and Kit managed to get a glimpse of dimples and bright brown eyes before he concentrated fiercely on the hand sanitizer on his desk.
    “Best friend I ever had,” Kit said, appalled at his own truthfulness. Oh God. Better say it now, so Jesse could run off and sleep with his ex-whatever in Truckee and giggle over his weird boss.
    “Nice,” Jesse said, nodding thoughtfully. “I’m honored.” There was a silence, and then Jesse stood apologetically. “Time to get Amy Lane

    Christmas With Danny Fit [38]

    back to work. Can’t keep my crappy apartment without my crappy paycheck, right?”
    Kit imagined that Jesse’s “crappy” apartment looked like it had been lived in, probably had old furniture, with real dents in the walls and scuffs on the floor, and a haphazard mess in the bedroom. There had probably been sex in Jesse’s crappy apartment, the kind that involved two people, and probably laughter as well.
    “I’ll bet your crappy apartment is fun place to be,” Kit said a little wistfully.
    Jesse stopped at the doorway, and the look in his eyes was wise and old. “Anyplace can be fun, Kit, when you’re not alone there.”
    “Yeah.” Kit tried hard not to sigh, and then remembered the other part of his plan and brightened. “I’m going to get a cat.”
    “Can I help you look? I like animals—I just never have apartments where they can