"Merry Christmas Eve." Billy's voice came barely above a whisper as my fingers flexed into his chest.

"Mmhmm, I could get used to waking up like this." I smiled as the warmth seemed to permeate me to my bones.

"What time will you be back from the office today?" His hand brushed over my hair, causing a couple of loose strands to catch in the roughness of his fingers.

"I'm working from here today. I brought my laptop home. The office closes at noon, and then I have to run a couple of quick elf errands."

"Elf errands? Sounds like code for last-minute shopping." One of Billy's eyebrows teasingly rose, pulling a giggle from me.

"What about you? Are you all finished?" I prodded.

"I am, but I was thinking of checking out Starbird. It's a piano shop. They look to have a Mason & Hamlin 50 that I want to check out." Billy's voice drifted to the piano like departing notes of a song.

"Mmhmm, I'm assuming that's a piano. You can take the car. I can walk to all the places I plan to visit."

"Are these solo adventures?" An air of disappointment slashed through his once airy tone.

"Oh, so you want to run errands together?"

"Isn't that what boring couples in their 40s do, run errands?" The tease had returned to his voice.

"Is that what we are?"

"If it walks like a duck, talks like a duck, and tastes good with plum sauce..."

"I've never had duck with plum sauce," I mused to myself.

"You know, I don't think I have either. I don't care for duck."

"I like Duck Soup," I offered.

"The movie or dish?"

"Do you have to ask?" I lifted my eyes to meet his.

"Yeah, I know... movie," he sheepishly nodded. "What time do we need to be at your mom's tonight?"

"Six, and remind me to pick up rolls." My mind was drifting to work, and Billy could tell.

He dropped his lips to the crown of my head before lifting it again and adding, "go take a shower; I'll start the coffee."

"You want to join me?" I teased while still holding out a little hope.

"Yes," fell out of instinct before he added, "but I shouldn't."

I swallowed back my sigh as I headed to the shower alone in frustration. Billy's strumming floated through the condo to my ears as I dressed for the day. I hushed my movements to listen to the humming and murmurs that came low from deep within Billy's mind. The song was slow, rough, and filled with starts and stops. I knew he was working through his thoughts more than a new song. I stalled in the doorway listening to the ebb and flow of stuttered caution and driving frustration work through his guitar while his hum remained a low tender stream punctuated by peaks of almost angry murmurs.

I took a deep breath as I prepared to dive in and entered the living room with a chipper "hi."

The song immediately stalled as Billy slung the guitar to lean against the couch while he popped up as though he were a child with his hand caught in the cookie jar. "Morning," he added with a bit too much force.

I gave him a casual smile, as though the whole situation wasn't tearing me apart from the inside. "Well, off to work," I teased as I slid into a chair at the dining table.

Billy paced to me and kissed the top of my head before muttering about a shower and heading back into the bedroom. My eyes followed his wake and then fell on his guitar. Never in my life had I put so much faith in an inanimate object. I needed that wood and strings to pull Billy back to me, gather his thoughts, and order them. And I hoped those thoughts led to my door and not away from it.

I dove into the mindless distraction of work as minutes slipped into an hour. My headset canceled out Billy entirely. I slipped them off at the end of a meeting to hear him strumming from behind me. I knew I shouldn't, but I couldn't resist stealing a glance. He was there, the boy from twenty years ago strumming to himself, connected to everything and nothing all at the same time. As though he could sense a shift in the air from my gaze, his eyes flickered to mine, and for a moment, a delicate smile graced his face before he let the song fall away.

"Meeting over?"

"Yeah, but I have another one right now," I shrugged.

"Am I distracting you?"

"No, with my headset on, I'm in my own world. I don't think you could distract me if you wanted to," I teased.

"Well, that sounds like a challenge," he winked as I slipped my headset back on and entered my next meeting.

Billy's strumming came stronger and tore through the small talk of my video call. I knew he was looking for a reaction, but my stubbornness kicked in, and I refused to look his way. The volume came louder as he paced closer to me, still strumming his guitar and singing an old Beatles song with a toying tone in his voice. It took all my will not to look at him and not to burst out into laughter.

"Who's listening to music?" Someone asked on the line.

"Sorry, all. Let me turn my stereo off." As I spoke, I muted and ripped my headset back before lunging at Billy. As I expected, he deftly swung his guitar behind him to catch my leap.

"Oh, sorry, was that distracting?"

"Mmhmm, just a little." I laughed in his arms. "And... I realized a grievous mistake that I made this morning?"

"Yeah, aside from saying I can't distract you?"

"Mmhmm." I nodded as his face dipped dangerously close to mine.

"What is that?" His coffee-laden breath washed over me.

"I don't think I've said I love you yet."

"Huh, I don't think you have," he smiled at me.

"Billy Collins, I love you. You are the most wonderfully distracting boy in all the world."

"Mmhmm, I know."

"You do?" I raised an eyebrow at him.

"Mmhmm, because you're the most distracting girl in all the world."

"Well, we're quite the pair." I sighed and let my head fall to his chest. "Billy, talk to me."

His arms tensed around me, causing me to lift my gaze to him again. He inspected my face for a moment before he began, "this place, your life... it threw me."

"Threw you?"

"Yeah. I mean, I knew you were here doing your thing... it's just..." His touch fell as he turned away from me.

"What?"

"I feel pathetic," he admitted as he turned back.

"What?" Shock rolled through my entire body.

"Lil, look around. I'm nowhere. You've spent the past month in Duluth. You're everywhere. My mom has an entire book of career stories about you; Tess and Tim still have pictures of you all over the house. Hell, I even have pictures of you around. You're in our homes, at the studio, in every album I make. And I'm nowhere." His arms flailed around.

"Billy," a small laugh slipped from my lips.

"Don't laugh at me, Lil. I already feel ridiculous enough." He shook his head as he dropped his gaze from me.

"I'm not laughing at you. Come on," I said as I offered a hand to him.

"Where?" He tentatively asked.

"Just the other room; I want to show you something."

He took my hand and let me lead him through my bedroom to my closet. I crouched down and spun the dial on my safe until the door popped open. There, on top, just as I had left it, was a yellow box. I pulled it out before standing and handing it to Billy.

"What is this?"

"Open it," I prodded.

Billy opened the box and inspected the random assortment of items.

"It's amazing how my entire world can fit in one little box," I mused as I glanced over the items.

"Is this the garbage ring?" He asked as he plucked a ring from the box and let it slip halfway down his finger.

"The one and only. And this is the pen from the hotel that first night. You use it to write your number. And these are tickets you won at the fast-pitch game in Cincinnati, a Coke bottlecap that you spent hours trying to flick into a trash can all summer long..."

"Still haven't mastered that," Billy lamented.

"The rubber ball I had to confiscate from you and Timmy because you kept going into the elevator and throwing it as hard as you could to see who was too slow to avoid it."

"It was always Tim. He sucked at that game."

"You could have lost an eye," I scolded. "The beret you gave me for Christmas one year," I continued.

"Is this a piece of a record?" Billy plucked a piece of scored plastic from the box.

"Yeah, not all the memories are happy. That's from the record... the one you broke in your studio when you first played your music for me." We both fell quiet for a moment. "This is the realtor card you had in your wallet for Maine," I finally added as I shifted to another tainted memory.

After a long pause, Billy pulled a stack of envelopes from the box. "What are these?"

"Billy, I've loved you every day since I met you. You've always been with me." I pulled out the letter in front. "This one is from the day after we met. I didn't think I'd ever see you again, but there were so many things I wanted to say. These letters are the things that when we were together, I couldn't say, and when we were apart, I wanted to say to you, to Timmy, even a couple to Tess and Mary."

"How many are there?" His voice came in the soft rush of a spring breeze and evaporated just as fast.

"A lot," I admitted. "You've always been the one, Billy. I may not have pictures around or a scrapbook of all your accomplishments, but I have these letters." I lifted my gaze from the box to Billy's face. He didn't raise himself to meet mine. "And I'm pretty sure that my dad's collection of Billy Collins' paraphernalia will rival any scrapbook Mary has," I teased, but he still didn't adjust to me. "You can read them. I meant them for you. I'll be at my computer." With a soft kiss on the cheek, I left him with twenty years of love, anger, frustration, and apologies.