Yes, Darling • Dawn Kimberly Johnson

2

Yes, Darling

B

AKER

B

ROCKTON

winced at the piercing creak of the attic

door and braced himself for an avalanche of discarded items
to land at his feet, but none came. The books, piles of
summer clothes, old shoes, toys, linens, and hat boxes were
simply packed too tightly in the small entrance for anything
to tumble anywhere. He sighed deeply and stepped over the
clutter facing him, uncertainly placing a foot on the first step
of a stairway to his right.

I had a lot more room when I was eight, he thought as he

turned his broad shoulders sideways and struggled up the
narrow attic steps. If he were moving more quickly to farcical
music, smiling, and waving a top hat ahead of himself, he’d
be making an extravagant entrance on a Vaudeville stage,
but as it was, Baker was trying his best not to bang his
knees or shins or head in the awkward space.

When he exited into the attic proper, the first things he

noticed were the heat, the cobwebs, and mustiness. God
knows what I’m breathing up here. He shuddered and
reached for the chain that would switch on the bare bulb
hanging from a rafter. After giving the chain a quick tug, the
bulb flared to life, though not enough to reach into the far
corners of the space. Glancing around nervously, he watched
and listened for any signs of creepy life.

Littered around his feet were piles of old, once-fancy

outfits: long, elegant gloves; taffeta dresses; now dingy
patent-leather shoes; and hat boxes without lids, their

Yes, Darling • Dawn Kimberly Johnson

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former occupants scattered hither and yon across the floor.
There were also remnants of his sister’s baby dolls—an odd,
disembodied leg and a doll head with mangled hair and one
eye that wouldn’t open, while the other seemed to follow his
every movement from a shadowed corner.

“Baker!”
Jesus! His heart stuttered at the sound of his mother’s

voice just below him in the closet doorway.

“Y-yes, Mama?”
“You find them, dear?”
“I’m looking, Mama.” Baker eyed the floor beams

apprehensively. Are those gonna hold me? He hated the
balancing act he’d have to accomplish to reach the box he
was after—the one he now noticed far across the room,
under the eaves. Why the hell is it over there? It should be
sitting right at the top of these stairs. He tried to imagine his
mother hauling that box up the stairs, but he realized she’d
probably roped some other big, clumsy boob into risking his
life.

He’d agreed because his father was busy and Baker was

a good son. He couldn’t imagine what his mother could have
promised a neighbor to do it. Probably food. She’s a great
cook.

“You need help?” she called from below.
Baker held his breath and stepped on the first floor

joist, trying his best to keep his big foot from slipping off
onto the insulation between and possibly cracking through
the ceiling below.

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“The Darlings are here.”
What good will Mr. Darling do me? Baker managed a

smile as he imagined the two of them crashing through the
ceiling and, with Darling’s added bulk, continuing on to the
first floor. That’d put a damper on the party.

“Coby’s a bit smaller than you, honey.”
He took another step and grinned, letting out his breath

in relief. One advantage to his taller frame was his wingspan.
He bent at the waist and reached for all he was worth, trying
to snag the box marked Xmas Tree Stuff with his middle
finger.

“They brought a big dish of that oven-baked macaroni

you love.”

“I’m fine, Ma—wait, did you say Coby is here?” he

asked, teetering for a moment before regaining his balance.

“What, dear?” Her voice sounded farther away, as if she

were leaving the bedroom as she spoke.

Coby’s here? Why the fuck is Coby here?
Baker got a grip on the box and dragged it toward him,

stirring up a colony of dust bunnies. He lifted it and tried to
simply follow his footsteps backward and escape the stuffy
attic.

“Got it!” he shouted.
“Good job, BB,” said a deep, male voice directly behind

him.

“Huh?” Baker tried to turn, realized he didn’t know

where to place his feet and nearly fell over backward and

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down the stairs, but luckily, Coby Darling caught him in his
arms and steadied him.

“You okay, dude?”
“Y-yeah,” Baker managed as his heart raced. “Uh… let’s

get out of here, huh?” He turned carefully to face his old
friend.

“Watch the light,” Coby warned as he reached up to

move the bulb away from Baker’s head just in time, causing
the light to swing back and forth between them—light,
shadow, light, shadow. Baker just stared, examining the
man’s face in the changing light, Coby’s pupils shrinking
slightly every time the blub swung back between them.

Mama had been right. Coby was a bit smaller than

him—an inch shorter and not as broad in the shoulders,
with more of a slender, runner’s build—and probably could
have navigated the attic much easier, but he was a lot
stronger than Baker remembered.

Everything else was the same: his hair the familiar,

unruly tangle of light brown waves, ending just at the bottom
of his ears, his eyes a deep brown and framed by long,
curling eyelashes, his grin teasing, and a light dusting of
facial hair.

“Uh… you go down first,” Baker said. “I’ll get the light

and pass you this cursed box.”

Coby laughed. “Deal.”
They made it down the stairs without destroying each

other and stumbled through the closet doorway and into the
second-floor guestroom.

Yes, Darling • Dawn Kimberly Johnson

6

“So, uh… what are you doing here?” Baker asked as he

set the decorations on the floor.

“Tricia, my evil stepmom, gave me an ultimatum, and I

caved.”

“Your stepmother is not evil.”
Coby laughed. “I know.” His eyes narrowed as his gaze

slid up and down Baker. “You look good, BB.”

Baker grinned. “Uh—”
Coby reached up and ran his palm over Baker’s head. “I

like your hair super short like this. It tickles when I touch it,
and somehow it looks even blacker, which sets off those
baby blues of yours. Good choice.”

Jesus! He’s flirting with me. “Uh—”
“Baker?” His mother’s voice drifted up the stairs from

the first floor now, coming between them. My God, she has a
set of lungs on her. “Did you find them, honey, the lights and
the bulbs?”

“Yes, Mama,” he answered, too softly for her to hear,

never taking his eyes off Coby.

“Baker?” she shouted again.
His old… friend took a step closer to him, straightened

Baker’s collar, and brushed Lord knows what out of his hair.
“Why don’t I take these down while you collect yourself?”
Coby asked, his voice deep and husky.

“I… d-don’t need… collecting.”
“Really? You look a bit overheated to me.”

Yes, Darling • Dawn Kimberly Johnson

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Baker watched him heft the box of decorations into his

arms and trot down the stairs to join the rest of the guests.
Once he lost sight of him, Baker sat heavily on the bed,
falling on his back and staring at the ceiling as the room
spun around him.

Talk about a Christmas miracle: Coby’s back in town.

B

AKER

made his way downstairs and slowly worked through

the gathering of relatives and friends who had come to his
parents’ for dinner, drinks, and decorating—a group effort of
festivities.

“There you are, Big Bad,” Elaina Lacey said, taking his

arm and pressing her abundant breasts against him. “I
wondered where you’d gotten to.”

“Please don’t call me that, El. I don’t play anymore.”

Baker searched the area for Coby’s tousled locks, but he
didn’t spot him. From where they stood in the hallway, he
could see into the living room, part of the dining room, and
some of the kitchen.

“But you do coach. Is the team looking good?” she

asked.

Baker blinked at her in surprise. “I didn’t know you

followed high school football, El.”

“Of course I do! Whatever gave you that idea?”
Oh, maybe the fact that I’ve known you for fifteen years,

and you’ve never shown any interest in the game.

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“They’re good boys. Hard workers,” he said, tugging his

arm free. “Did you happen to see Coby pass this way?”

Elaina grimaced and shook her head. “Nope.” Her eyes

narrowed. “I’m surprised he came home.”

“Oh yeah? Why?” Baker asked as he continued to scan

the rooms. His pulse raced as he caught a flash of light
brown waves beyond them in the kitchen.

“Well, he’s been away for years—”
“About one year.”
“—and he left town in disgrace.”
Baker looked into her wide, innocent blue eyes and was

surprised to find she had hold of his arm again. His fingers
were starting to tingle. “Coby got a full-time teaching
position at the University in Richmond. What’s disgraceful
about that?”

“You were his best friend, Baker. You know as well as I

do the rumors that started about him being a… homosexual
and all.” Her eyes narrowed a bit. “In fact, I’m surprised you
didn’t guess…. Anyway,” she said, waving a dismissive hand
and tossing her hair, “after that, what was he going to do but
leave town, right?”

“Condon would have been lucky to have him,” he said,

not even trying to soften his tone. “He didn’t need to leave.”
Maybe he did, thanks to me.

“Baker, could you give Coby a hand with those lights?”

his mother asked as she walked up to them. “They’re a
tangled mess.”

“Yes, Mama. Where is he?”

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“Let him go, child,” she said, slapping at Elaina’s hand.

“You’re ’bout cutting off his circulation.” Elaina released him
immediately, her face turning a bit pink.

“Sorry, Mrs. Brockton,” she said sheepishly.
“Coby’s on the back porch, honey.” His mother patted

Baker’s hand, and he fled. “We’re gonna be eating soon as
your daddy gets back here with your sister,” she shouted
after him. Baker excused his way through the hallway to the
kitchen and then onto the back porch.

It was darker and much colder out there. Through the

bank of windows he faced, he could see beyond into the
backyard, thanks to the motion lights attached to the house.
For a moment, Baker wondered what was moving out there
to set them off, but then he spotted several people bundled
in their winter coats and huddled together at the old picnic
table, smoking. They stomped their booted-feet in the snow
to stay warm while they indulged their addiction.

“Looking for me?”
Startled, Baker looked to his right and found Coby

sitting on the carpet, a large chaotic mass of blinking,
multicolored Christmas lights in his lap.

“Uh… Mama said you could use some help?”
Coby stared up at Baker for several moments. “Sure.

Have a seat.” Coby smiled, and Baker nearly tripped before
taking a seat on the floor in front of him. He grabbed a
separate collection of lights and began searching for the end
of the string. While he worked, he glanced at Coby and the
way the lights bathed his face in festive, colorful warmth.

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“Is the tree up yet?” Coby asked.
“I didn’t notice,” he said.
Though alone on the back porch, the muffled voices of

the dinner guests and some holiday tune Baker couldn’t
name drifted out to them, making them feel part of it all.

“So Elaina seems as into you as ever,” Coby ventured.
“She eased up on me a couple months ago when Ed

Paukett proposed, but that fell through just last week.”

“Why?”
“I think he caught her making out with one of his

potential groomsmen. Not sure.”

Baker grinned in delight upon locating the plug end of

his lights and quickly inserted it into the outlet next to
Coby’s. The string of light came alive.

“Nicely done, sir.”
“Thanks,” Baker laughed. His lights were white and

added an ethereal element to the glow bathing them as they
worked. “So… you came back because your mother made
you, huh?”

“Hardly. I came back for you, BB.” Baker’s fingers froze,

and he lifted his gaze to Coby’s. “Didn’t you know I would?”

Baker concentrated on his knot of lights. “I thought you

made things fairly clear when you left last year.”

Coby sighed. “I was angry, BB, you know that.”
“I haven’t changed, C—”
“No?”
Baker hesitated. “I… I’ve missed you.”

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“Well, that’s something.”
“Look! You broke it off. You decided to leave the state.

And you did it because you didn’t think I could be the man
you said you needed me to be. Don’t stroll back in here
expecting me to have had some revelation about giving up
everything I have for you.” The moment he said it, he
regretted it. Even in the dim light he saw the wince of pain
around Coby’s eyes. He blinked and it was gone.

In the ensuing silence, a distant chorus of “White

Christmas” drifted out to them, and little progress was made
with the lights. Then Coby whispered, “I love you.”

“Coby—”
“More importantly, I came back because I know you love

me.”

“Ahh! I give up!” Baker yanked his string of lights free of

the outlet and got to his feet. “This is hopeless.”

“W-what are you doing?”
“Going shopping.” He stared down into Coby’s eyes.

“Wanna come with?”

T

HEY

grabbed their coats from the hall closet and rushed

out the front door, running right into Baker’s father and
younger sister.

“Hello, Mr. Brockton,” Coby said.
“Where you off to, boys?”

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“Coby and I are picking up new lights for the tree,

Daddy.”

“Hi, Coby,” Bethany singsonged.
“Good to see you again, Bethany.”
In the harsh porch light, Baker could see the color rise

up his sister’s neck. Oh, for Pete’s sake. She tossed her long
fire-red ringlets coquettishly. Apparently she hadn’t been
privy to the rumors about Coby. Or she had and decided she
was just the cure for him. Baker seethed in silence.

“How’s the degree coming?” Coby asked her as Mr.

Brockton hustled past him into the warm house, carrying
Bethany’s suitcase.

“I can’t really settle on one thing yet. There’s so much to

learn… and do.” She smiled wistfully.

“I remember,” Coby laughed. Turning to Baker, he said,

“We better get going if we’re going to get back in time to snag
some dinner.”

“Boys, why aren’t you wearing your hats?” Mrs.

Brockton asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway. “Your
daddy says you boys are off to Target?”

“Yes, Mama.”
“Pick me up some marshmallows… mini marshmallows.

I need them for the sweet potatoes.”

“I’ll remember, ma’am,” Coby said.
“Good boy. And be careful on those roads, ya hear?”
“Yes, Mama.” Baker snagged Coby’s collar and dragged

him off the porch and toward Baker’s SUV. He revved the
engine and had the car hurtling forward before Coby could

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buckle himself in properly. The car fishtailed as they turned
onto the main road off his parents’ property.

“Any particular reason you’re driving like a maniac?”

Coby asked, a quiver in his voice as he gripped the handle
above his door and braced his palm against the dash.

Baker glared ahead of them, his knuckles growing pale

on the steering wheel. “I couldn’t breathe in there.” He took
several deep breaths to calm the panic rising within him, a
panic born from the truth of Coby’s words… I know you love
me.

Lord, he did. There was no other explanation for how

miserable Baker had been since Coby’d left town… left the
state. He’d walked through this past year in a fog, unable to
get Coby off his mind. The nights were the worst, lying
awake and remembering their time together, reaching out to
his side and stroking the cool sheet where Coby’s warm body
should have been.

After his mother’s death, a sixteen-year-old Coby and

his father had moved to town to be closer to his
grandparents. Baker remembered the first time he’d spotted
him in the locker room as they suited up to take the field—
and later in the shower room. Baker had tried desperately to
avert his eyes but eventually just shut off his hot water,
when that wasn’t enough. He allowed the icy spray to calm
his body, lest the other players take note of his interest in
the new guy.

Coby was lanky and thin as a rail back then, so much

so that Baker had wondered how he’d made the team. Surely
he’d be destroyed on the field should anyone hit him. But

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the coach wasn’t crazy, because that first year Coby had
ridden the bench more often than not. However, over the
next two years, he’d bulked up… a bit, his muscles growing
rangy, gradually looking more like the man he’d soon
become. His large sensitive brown eyes had drawn Baker in
immediately, and his hair? His hair was the same, maybe a
tad longer then. Coby had a habit of tossing his—

“What are you smiling about?”
“Oh… nothing,” Baker mumbled, focusing again on the

road.

The two of them had become fast friends. Coby helped

him with history and English papers, while he helped Coby
in shop. They examined the finer points of Young
Frankenstein and Blazing Saddles together, often had dinner
at the Brocktons’—Coby’s father wasn’t much of a cook—and
studied at each other’s homes. The first time Baker made
Coby laugh himself to tears had felt like magic.

Then came the one and only time the two of them had

double dated: cousins Bonita and Idoya Pavia, two beautiful
young local girls, who each got a good-night at their doors
and a chaste peck on the cheek. After that he and Coby had
driven to a secluded clearing in Ardent Park and made out,
their hands diving into the fronts of each other’s pants and
fumbling to a stop after quickly bringing each other off. He
remembered the look in Coby’s eyes that night, a dawning,
the realization, an awakening, and Baker knew the same
wonder resided in his own gaze.

Coby eventually went to Condon U, and Baker, given his

interest in and skill with engines, started working at his

Yes, Darling • Dawn Kimberly Johnson

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Uncle Mitch’s garage. During those years, every spare
moment they could steal was spent with each other, always
in secret. Baker took business management classes on and
off, dated a girl here and there, assistant-coached the
football team when he could—his high school star had only
slightly dimmed—and he gradually found himself in a
position to take over his uncle’s business.

He’d earned his business and mechanical skills with

plenty of hard work, while Coby’s hard work earned him a
teaching degree in history… and a job offer in Richmond.

“Now you’re frowning. Baker, what’s up?”
“I’m just thinking… remembering.” He glanced at Coby,

sitting so close, close enough to reach out and touch. “We’re
almost there.” Coby nodded and stared out his window at
the snow-covered trees on their right. To their left was a
sheer drop-off protected by a guardrail that, in all honesty,
looked too inconsequential to keep any driver from the
oblivion beyond.

Before that job offer last year, Baker had already

memorized the first, last, and every time in between that
they’d made heart-racing, breath-stealing love. Perhaps he
sensed their paths were about to diverge even more
drastically. He knew he couldn’t give Coby what he wanted
most: to be acknowledged as something more than his best
childhood friend. In their final passionate moments together,
they’d both cried silently as Baker released Coby,
presumably for the last time, Coby’s angry, heartbroken
words following Baker out the door.

“BB?”

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Coby had given up hiding and stopped dating women

long before leaving town, and the rumors picked up about
him, some even tailing him to Virginia. Baker’s lying
continued, and only by recalling the scent of Coby’s hair,
how his skin felt beneath his fingertips, the sounds he made,
the responsive quivers and gasps, and his flavor, could he
perform with a woman—usually some bar bunny he’d pick
up on weekends.

“Baker!”
A massive white puff of fur with coal-black eyes and

equally black nose had materialized in the road ahead,
virtually indistinguishable from the winter wonderland
surrounding them, though the lolling pink tongue helped.

Baker slammed on the brakes; the car skidded violently,

but he turned into it, and they came to an undamaged halt
on the right side of the road.

“Madeline! Madel—Oh thank God!” A man and woman

ran from a grouping of trees on the right, terror etched on
their faces. The woman fell to her knees next to the
absconding Great Pyrenees and embraced her.

“Are you all right?” the man asked as Baker and Coby

exited the car and rushed over to them. Baker was surprised
his legs could support him they were trembling so much.

“We’re sorry,” the woman said. “She just took off.

Snapped the leash. She’s… she’s never done that before.”

“We’re fine,” Coby said, glancing at Baker, who simply

nodded. “She probably spotted a fox or something.” The
woman clung to her dog and then let her hands roam over

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Madeline, checking for injuries. Baker found he wanted to do
the same to Coby, but he resisted the urge.

“She’s fine, honey,” the man soothed as he took hold of

the dog’s collar and began leading her off the road. “S-sorry,
guys.” They waved good-bye, and Baker watched the couple
disappear back into the trees with the precious, if
precocious, Madeline.

He and Coby stood there a moment, then looked at each

other.

“Your mission, if you choose to accept it…,” Coby began.
Baker grinned. “Marshmallows and Christmas lights?”
Coby nodded. “Mini marshmallows.”

W

HEN

they reached Target, it had begun to snow lightly, the

flakes vanishing as they became lost in the glare of the
parking lot lights, then reappearing when they reached eye
level. They rushed into the store and immediately parted,
Coby going for the marshmallows and Baker for the lights. It
was a week before Christmas, but the store was surprisingly
unpopulated by frantic shoppers. Good for us, Baker
thought.

Reuniting at the checkout, they were back on the road

within ten minutes. A record if Baker had ever set one. For
the first time in eighteen or so months, Baker and Coby
laughed together as they tore down the road.

“How’s the garage doing?” Coby asked. “You were adding

bays when I left.”

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18

“Good… really good,” Baker said, nodding. “We got those

done in a few weeks, and given our current weather
conditions, people are coming in for engine checkups right
about now. I’ve even hired two more mechanics.” Baker
smiled broadly and looked at Coby. “One of them is Bonita
Pavia.”

“You’re shitting me!”
“Nope. She’s awesome. The guys are twisted up in knots

over her in coveralls.”

They laughed again, but when their mirth petered out,

they rode in silence until the Brockton place came into view.
There was a lot to say, but neither of them currently had the
guts to begin. Baker pulled the car up to the house and shut
off the engine. The two of them sat, staring straight ahead,
and watched the snow falling around them as the cooling
engine ticked.

I can’t let him go again, but—
“How long are you in town for?” Baker asked.
“For sure until after New Year’s.”
Baker beamed. “Really? That’s gr—that’s good.”
Coby sighed deeply. “Listen, Baker… I’ve applied for a

position at my alma mater.”

Baker’s heart stuttered. “Y-yeah?”
“Uh-huh.”
“So you could move back to town… permanently?”
It took a few moments for Coby to say, “It depends, BB.”

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19

Baker gritted his teeth, unlocked his seatbelt, and threw

open his door before hopping out of the car and stalking
toward the house.

“Baker… honey?” his mother called as he stormed in

and walked past the dining room where everyone was
already seated and eating. He didn’t stop until he was
through the kitchen, out the back door, and off the porch.
Coby would have to pause to collect their purchases and
probably get waylaid by his mother while passing them off
before he’d be able to reach him, which gave Baker time to
try to get his temper under control.

Another ultimatum! He came back to test me again, test

how much I love him. Son of a bitch!

Baker stomped around the backyard, circling the big

oak closest to the house. He was torn between wanting Coby
and fear of the unknown, of what his life as a business
owner, coach, former football star, and good son would
become if he began living honestly, living as an openly gay
man. An openly gay man in love. He was out there long
enough to lose some steam, to begin to worry that Coby
wasn’t going to come after him. Do I want him to? Finally he
heard the porch door open hesitantly, and his fury rushed
back at him.

“Go away! I can’t talk to you right now,” he declared.

“You’ll talk to me when I say, boy.” His mother’s voice

was firm, and it stopped him in his tracks on the other side
of the tree. He slowly peered around the trunk to see her
standing in the yard. Bundled in her navy blue parka, red

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20

hat, scarf, boots, and mittens, she glared at him as
snowflakes accumulated on her. She was a tiny woman, but
the set of her jaw and her lips pressed into a humorless line
told him he’d better do as she said. “Come here, Baker.”

“Yes, Mama.”

“Tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

He grimaced. “I’m not a baby, Mama.”

“I know, I know. You’re a grown man.”

Baker sniffed and finally let the tears flow. “Grown men

don’t cry, though, do they?”

“Sure they do, when they’re scared… or when their

hearts are breakin’. They cry with the best of them.”

“I’m so tired, Mama.” Baker looked up at the winter sky,

watched the white flakes falling from that seemingly infinite
velvety blackness. He felt like he was coming apart. “I’ve
been lying and hiding for so long. I’m scared what will
happen if—” His voice broke. “God, I love… I love—”

“You love him,” she finished for her son. His mother

remained silent for a few moments as Baker stared into her
eyes in disbelief.

“But—”

“No,” she warned, “‘I love him’ is all you need to

remember. Everything else be damned.”

“What?”

Baker thought he could detect a bit of color rising to her

face. “Your Daddy and I aren’t blind, baby.” She smiled

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21

crookedly. “Now I’m not gonna lie and say we weren’t worried
about, uh… things, but we know what being in love looks
like. He told me to stay out of it, but I just couldn’t watch
you struggling any longer.” He blinked at her a few times,
and she reached up and caressed his face with a cold, red
mitten. Baker smiled and hugged her, lifting her off the
ground and causing her to giggle like a young girl.

“W-where’s Coby?” he asked, setting her back on her

feet and glancing toward the house.

“I left him putting the marshmallows on the sweet

potatoes.” She turned to go back inside. “Now, I’m gonna
send him out to you with some cocoa. I’ve already put aside
plates for you both.” She paused by the back door. “Believe
me, it wasn’t easy with your Uncle Mitch circling the turkey.”
She opened the porch door and started up the steps.
“They’re covered in foil in the fridge. Oh, and Coby’s
stepmom made a separate dish of her mac and cheese just
for you—”

“Does… do they know?”

“How you and Coby feel about each other?” He nodded.

“Of course, silly. He told his parents.” She fixed him with a
stare that made Baker grimace, then disappeared through
the door.

While he waited, he busied himself scraping the

accumulated snow off the picnic table, and Coby soon
emerged carrying two mugs of cocoa in his hands and a
winter cap in his teeth.

Yes, Darling • Dawn Kimberly Johnson

22

“Your mother told me to make you put this on,” he

mumbled around it. Baker promptly did as instructed, took
one of the mugs, and then he and Coby sat right next to
each other, butts on the tabletop, boots on the bench seat.
For twenty minutes, they sipped their cocoa and tried to
hear the snow fall.

Then Baker heard someone—probably Bethany—begin

playing the piano from inside the house, and a chorus of
voices began singing “O Come, All Ye Faithful.” When the
Brockton Family and Guests Singers moved on to “Silver
Bells,” Baker got up and extended a hand to Coby, who took
it after looking into Baker’s eyes and realizing he wasn’t
worried about anyone seeing them.

Baker swept Coby into his arms, and they began to

sway slowly. “Sometimes I’m terrified by how much you
mean to me,” Baker whispered against his ear. “I’m not
claiming to be suddenly fearless about… other things, but
this past year has shown me I’m no good without you.” He
felt Coby shiver. “Too cold?” Baker stopped dancing and
leaned back to look into Coby’s eyes. “We can go inside.”

“I’m… I’m not c-cold, Baker.” Coby searched his face.

“You really want me to come home?”

“Yes, Coby. Come home to me.”

Letting himself be swallowed by the chocolate depths of

Coby’s gaze, Baker kissed him. For how long, he didn’t know,
but this was no secluded clearing, no dark, secret room. He
was standing in the backyard of his childhood home, kissing
the man he loved, and he thought his heart might just burst

Yes, Darling • Dawn Kimberly Johnson

23

as he reveled in the familiar, warm response Coby gave him.
It wasn’t until they heard a distant, angry “Well, fuck me!”
and a slamming door that they parted.

Baker collected the mugs in one hand and held Coby’s

hand with the other as they went back inside. The house
crackled with activity: clearing the dinner table, some folks
making their way out the front door, Bethany still playing
Christmas tunes while a drunken Uncle Mitch warbled
beside her, Mr. Darling opening the new lights, Mrs. Darling
unwrapping cherished Christmas bulbs as Coby’s seven-
year-old sister, Lula, carefully attached tree hooks to them,
and Baker’s dad making sure the tree was straight by
adjusting it a half inch this way or that.

Baker set down the mugs and relieved his mother of the

heavy turkey platter as she entered the kitchen. “Mama, why
don’t you have a seat while Coby and I do the dishes?”

“Nonsense, baby. You two haven’t even eaten yet.”

Coby gently took her arm and steered her to a kitchen

chair. “You just tell us what to do.”

After she gave in, Baker and Coby made quite the team

as they put away the leftovers, per Mrs. Brockton’s
instructions, and got the dishwasher loaded.

“Mama, where’s Elaina? I’d thought she would have

stayed to help.”

Baker thought he spotted a grin on his mother’s face

when she explained, “Oh, she took off outta here like a cat
with her tail on fire. Didn’t get a chance to ask her”—she
glanced at the two of them—“but by the color creeping up

Yes, Darling • Dawn Kimberly Johnson

24

your necks, I’d guess she saw something in the backyard she
didn’t like.” She covered her mouth as she giggled, and the
two of them grinned but kept their mouths shut.

L

ATER

, when the house was quiet and dark, save for the

lights now adorning the Christmas tree, Baker and Coby
snuggled up on the living room sofa. With their stomachs
full, belts and pants undone, and socked feet up on the
coffee table, they lost themselves in the silent, twinkling
beauty before them. Over the next few days, gifts would
begin to pile up beneath the tree, adding to the colorful
magic of the house.

“I’m sorry I was such a boob about things,” Baker said

as he played with Coby’s hair.

“I knew you’d come around.”
“Really?” Baker looked down at him and grinned

skeptically. Coby nodded, a confident glint in his eyes.

“We’ve known each other for twelve or so years, BB. In

all that time, I’ve never known you to let anything or anyone
stand between you and something you want, be it the end
zone or—”

“The man I love?” They kissed, and Baker sighed. “In

this case, it was only me standing in my way, but after losing
control of the car, the fog began to clear.”

“How so?”

Yes, Darling • Dawn Kimberly Johnson

25

“I thought I had a handle on my life and that if I held on

tightly enough to who everyone expected me to be,
everything would be fine.”

“But?”
“The moment I lost control, I knew what mattered most

to me. All I needed in the world was in the seat next to me
screaming like a little girl.”

“Hey!”
“Shhh. Everyone’s asleep,” Baker laughed, and Coby

joined him, pressing his face into Baker’s chest to muffle his
chuckles. As their laughter died down, Baker began to hum.
He felt his eyes growing heavy as he continued to stroke
Coby’s hair. Having him in his arms again almost seemed too
good to be true, and he prayed he wouldn’t wake up
tomorrow overfed on an overstuffed couch alone, with Coby
being only a turkey-fueled dream.

“Is that ‘Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’?” Coby

asked.

“Yep.”
“Don’t know the words, huh?”
“Not enough to give up the humming, I’m afraid.”
“Kiss me.”
“Yes, Darling.”

Come home for holiday romance.

Get the whole package of stories at

http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com

About the Author

D

AWN

K

IMBERLY

J

OHNSON

graduated from the Marshall

University W. Page Pitt School of Journalism and Mass
Communications and worked as a copy editor at a daily
newspaper for eight years. She enjoys writing just after
waking, after her characters have strolled through her
subconscious, talking to one another, making love, arguing,
working out their lives and how to live them, working out
their loves and how to keep them.

Visit her blog at http://kimswritingagain.wordpress.com/.
You can e-mail her at [e-mail].

More Daily Dose

and Advent Calendar packages

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Copyright

Yes, Darling ©Copyright Dawn Kimberly Johnson, 2012

Published by
Dreamspinner Press
5032 Capital Circle SW
Ste 2, PMB# 279
Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the
authors’ imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead,
business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover Art by Paul Richmond http://www.paulrichmondstudio.com

This book is licensed to the original purchaser only. Duplication or distribution via any means is
illegal and a violation of International Copyright Law, subject to criminal prosecution and upon
conviction, fines, and/or imprisonment. This eBook cannot be legally loaned or given to others. No
part of this eBook can be shared or reproduced without the express permission of the Publisher. To
request permission and all other inquiries, contact Dreamspinner Press at: 5032 Capital Circle SW,
Ste 2, PMB# 279, Tallahassee, FL 32305-7886, USA.
http://www.dreamspinnerpress.com/

Released in the United States of America
December 2012

eBook Edition
eBook ISBN: 978-1-62380-217-2