The Night Before Christmas: A collection of four short Christmas Eve stories

by Angelique Jurd

  On the bed, Daisy and Rosie are nose to nose, with Noah stretched out alongside murmuring to them as he scratches ears and rubs bellies. He can’t make out the words, Noah’s voice is too low, but if Daisy’s tail thumps and Rosie’s purrs are anything to go by, they’re soothing. Tossing his jacket in the corner, he joins them, curling around Noah and tucking his head under his chin.

  “What are you telling them?”

  “That you’re a slob but that we love you anyway.”

  Nuzzling the back of Noah’s neck, Hunter grins.

  “And that you’ll bring us all breakfast in bed to make up for it.”

  “No! Bad Noah! No!” He pulls Noah over to face him. He’s had too much wine and is too tired to do anything more but cuddle but he wants to be able to see Noah’s face all the same. “Thank you.”

  “For?” Sleepiness makes Noah’s voice heavy and as Hunter watches, his eyelids begin to droop.

  “For moving to Newton. For not knowing the difference between a snake bite and a bee sting.”

  Noah mumbles “shut up” against Hunter’s throat.

  “For not giving up on me.”

  Noah snuggles in closer and behind him, Rosie stands and stretches. Yawns and shakes.

  “Well,” Noah says, wriggling around and kicking his shoes off, “thank you for waiting for me.”

  “You were worth waiting for.” He tugs at the bed cover, nudging Noah to lift up and then pulls it over them. He’s reaching for the bedside lamp when there’s a resounding crash from the living room, followed by the sound of glass ornaments shattering and scattering across the floor. Noah’s eyes pop open.

  “Hunter!”

  FIN

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  MISTLETOE

  (Mason & Rian)

  “If you even think about humming that damned song, I swear to God I am tossing everyone out and to hell with Christmas.” Mason glares at his sister. “I mean it. Don’t tempt me.”

  “Wow!” Tracy tucks a fifth bottle of Chardonnay under her arm. “Who died and crowned you King Grinch?”

  Bottles clink and clatter as Mason hefts a crate of beer out of the chiller. Grunting with the effort, he swings around to place it on the step, shuts the chiller door, and clicks the padlock shut. He’s not a Grinch. He doesn’t hate Christmas. Or people. Tracy raises an eyebrow in disbelief at that statement and he amends it to he doesn’t hate most people. Is it not enough that he’s had to listen to saccharine Christmas songs chirped at him from every damned overhead sound system in town since freakin’ Halloween? That alone would test the patience of a proverbial saint, which Mason does not pretend to be, but God help him if he has to listen to Harry hiccup his way through Feliz Navidad one more time, he won’t be responsible for the outcome. Especially since the old coot only knows one damned line.

  Tracy bumps the door open with her hip, leaning against it and grinning when he glares at her on his way past. She is the most infuriating woman on the damned planet. Over the wall of noise that hits him in the dining room, he hears “I wanna wish you - hic – Merry - hic – Chrishmash” and groans. Harry’s been here since two-thirty and Mason was able to start him slowly with coffee and a glass of wine. Once people started arriving and the place filled up though, he was too busy to keep an eye on him. Besides, he wasn’t supposed to be keeping an eye on Harry. That was someone else’s job. Someone who is conspicuous by his absence.

  “Where the hell is he?”

  Jake pops up from behind the counter and takes the wine from Tracy.

  “Dad, stop panicking. He’ll be here.” Jake pushes his glasses back up his nose with the back of his hand before setting the wine down. He arrived last night with Abby and even though Mason left him to sleep most of the morning, he looks tired. Olivia pushes a tray of glasses toward him, points to the wine bottles, and holds up three fingers.

  “He was meant to be here two hours ago.” Mason opens a bottle of wine and begins filling glasses. Tries to ignore his imagination that keeps offering him images of car wrecks and ambulances and …

  “Mason, the tree looks amazing.” Judging by the shine in Marsha Lewis’s eyes, she’s not too far behind Harry in the inebriation stakes. Great. Just what he needs. “Is Rian going to be here soon?”

  Damned good question. Where the hell is he?

  “If the traffic is anything like it was yesterday, Miz Lewis, he’s probably only been on the open road for about an hour.” Jake nudges Mason out of the way. “Have you tried the spiced hot chocolate?”

  Leaving Jake to deal with Marsha’s gushing questions about what exactly is used to spike the hot chocolate, Mason makes his way through the crowd, collecting glasses as he goes, until he’s standing next to the Christmas tree. She’s not wrong. It is amazing. At home, their tree is very simple and very modern. It’s small and compact, in an old oak barrel so they can plant it at the back of the house after Christmas, they’d spent an evening decorating it in blue and silver. This one though is traditional with garlands of red, white, and green. A row of stockings has been hung along a fake mantle beneath a sign “Please donate a children’s gift”. Mason has emptied them three times since putting them up and they’re full again. He and Rian will be taking them to the local shelters tomorrow to give out to kids. Strings of twinkling silver lights have been crisscrossed over the ceiling and even Mason has to admit the place does look pretty magical.

  From the center of the ceiling hangs a large spray of mistletoe. That’s the real reason tonight’s Christmas Eve event is sold out. About a month ago, Rian had suggested a Christmas Eve dinner and drinks event as an alternative to their monthly fundraiser. It rarely snows this close to the coast but it’s cold and often wet, so the street markets have a sharp drop off in December and January. For a donation to this month’s charity, they can get a photo taken under the mistletoe. It was that part of the suggestion that made Mason roll his eyes.

  “Let me guess, they can have their photo taken with a celebrity. You’re shameless, Hollywood.”

  “Nope, I’m realistic.” Rian had then proceeded to do a thing with his tongue that made Mason forget what they were even meant to be discussing. “Besides, you love me.”

  Being in a relationship with an actor as famous as Rian Johns, Mason has discovered, means accepting that anyone in a five-mile radius thinks it’s okay to kiss his boyfriend. It also means getting used to seeing photographers and reporters everywhere. While things have never reached the heights of last summer’s insanity when nearly every magazine cover had a picture of the two of them making out on a couch, they’re still ever present. In fact, the current batch are in the corner, comparing stories and photos. At least he has them where he can see them, Mason thinks.

  He has to admit, though, the suggestion was brilliant. The place is full and this month’s charity donation is going to be one of their best, even without Rian matching it the way he usually does. All they need now is the star of the show to … well… show and things will be perfect. Someone taps him on the shoulder and when he looks around, Jake is holding his hands out for the glasses and plates he’s collected and nodding toward the door.

  Standing in the doorway, tugging at the buttons of his parka while laughing with a couple next to him, is Rian. With a sigh of relief, Mason pushes his way through the crowd. He ignores people trying to speak to him. Shakes off the hands grabbing at his elbows as he passes. Finally, Rian looks in his direction and smiles, dark eyes dancing with laughter and a rush of love leaves Mason feeling dizzy.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  “Traffic was a bitch and the weather’s closing in.” Rian hangs the jacket up and kisses Olivia on the cheek as she passes before walking toward Mason and holding his arms open. Violet smudges beneath his eyes and the slight gravel to his voice tells Mason how tired he is. He looks even more exhausted than Jake. “You worry too much.”

  Relief that he’s here at last, safe and sound, is so strong Mason doesn’t even protest when Rian kisses
him in front of everyone, tightening his hold on him as he does so. He breaks the kiss and rests his forehead against Rian’s.

  “Hey, Hollywood,” he whispers.

  “Hey, yourself.” Rian presses his lips against the side of Mason’s head. “Sorry I’m late.”

  Before he can reply that he missed Rian too and that he’s glad he’s here, a woman’s voice rings out behind them.

  “If we make a bigger donation, do we get to kiss him too?”

  It sounds like Marsha Lewis and Mason sincerely hopes that Tracy or Olivia or Jake or someone is making sure she’s only drinking hot chocolate now. Rian sniggers and turns him around, so they can make their way back to the bar.

  Damned mistletoe.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  After hugging what feels like a million people, kissing Tracy hello, and ducking into the kitchen to say hi to Gary, Rian whispers to Mason that he’s just going to run upstairs to the apartment to freshen up. Mason, who is busy trying to steam milk with one hand and pour wine with the other, mutters something indecipherable and nods. Rian takes the stairs two at a time, grinning to himself when he hears Marsha ask someone where he’s disappeared to and then Harry bellowing out some Christmas song. Is that Feliz Navidad?

  He lets himself into the apartment and leans against the door with sigh. It’s been a long day. After filming had wrapped, he’d stayed for a few Christmas drinks, then gone back to the L.A. condo to phone Mason and reassure him that he’d be home as early as he could be. A seven thirty radio interview dragged on forever and by the time he was in the car, the traffic and weather were conspiring against him. Knowing Mason would worry, he’d stopped only once for coffee and to use a restroom. All he really wants to do is put Mason in the damned car, drive out to the house and sleep for as long as he can. Well, maybe not just sleep.

  This damned Christmas movie has taken forever to finish, and he’s been stuck in Los Angeles for six weeks. Sure, he’s driven back up here as often as he can - he even flew to Portland and met Mason there once he was desperate to see him – but it’s not the same. If anyone had told him a year ago that the thing he craved most was falling asleep and waking up next to the same man every day, he would have told them they had him confused with someone else. If they’d said he’d be so in love with a grumpy bistro owner that he’d drive for eight hours just to be able to hold him, he’d would have laughed. If they’d even hinted that he might do what he’s planning to do tonight, he would have declared them insane and left the room.

  He turns the light on and smiles. The apartment looks just as it did the last time he was here. One of Mason’s jackets is tossed over the back of the sofa. A pair of Jake’s sneakers are under the coffee table. Newspapers are scattered over the table next to a half full cup of cold coffee. He knows Jake and Mason slept here last night. Just the two of them, the way it had been before him. Tonight, when everything’s finished, and they’ve cleaned up as much as any of them can stand, he’s taking both Mason and Jake out to the house. Abby and Tracy too if they want to come; if not they’ll pick them up tomorrow on the way to deliver the Christmas gifts to the shelters. Assuming, of course, that tonight goes according to plan.

  Jake seems confident it will. Nervousness isn’t something Rian usually suffers from. In fact, the only time he remembers feeling really nervous was that moment after asking Mason to give him a reason to stay. For that split second, that seemed to last hours, when Mason hesitated, yes, he’d been nervous then. Still, even that hadn’t been as bad as this. This could be a disaster. He trails his fingers over the back of the sofa as he passes by it toward the bathroom. There’s only one way to find out.

  In the bathroom, he scowls at his reflection. God, he looks worse than he feels. If they try and call him back to set any time soon, he’s going to set Mason on them. Rian knows the grumpy demeanor is all show but when someone pisses his man off, everyone needs to stay out of the way. That ire could just as easily be applied to studio execs as it is to unreliable suppliers and nosey paparazzi. He turns the shower on and undresses.

  After a quick shower, feeling fresher and less like he’s about to fall flat on his face, Rian dresses in clean black jeans and a soft white sweater, checks his pocket for everything he needs and makes his way back downstairs. Half way down, he’s met once again by Harry’s drunken yodeling.

  “What the hell is he singing?” He slips behind the bar and accepts a glass of wine from Tracy with a grimace. “And how do we get him to stop?”

  “Feliz Navidad but he only knows the one line. He’s been driving Mason nuts all afternoon.”

  “Short trip.”

  “I heard that.” A plate of turkey with roast potatoes appears as if by magic on the counter in front of Rian and he turns to find Mason behind him. “You were supposed to make sure he stayed sober. That was the agreement.”

  Rian tries to school his features into a look of apologetic innocence, but Mason shakes his head.

  “Not buying it.” Mason helps himself to a small piece of white meat. “Nice sweater by the way.”

  From his spot by the Christmas tree, Harry bellows the line again. Okay that’s quite enough. Rian signals Jake and points to the sound system. Jake nods, puts the tray of empties he’s carrying on the counter, and goes to wait for his signal. Looking around for a bar stool, Rian hauls himself up onto it, arms out to keep his balance. Prays he doesn’t make a fool of himself. Normally he would stand on a table, but every surface seems to be covered in food or drink.

  “What are you doing?” Mason glares up at him and Rian is pretty sure that he’s on borrowed time for the next five minutes at least.

  “Everyone, everyone. Can I have your attention?” He waits while the room settles then continues. “Thank you all for coming along tonight to celebrate our Christmas fundraiser. I apologize for being late but since I’m here now, how about we get things rolling?”

  A quick nod in Jake’s direction results in the opening notes of Merry Christmas Baby and he begins to sing. Even though he’s hamming it up a little to encourage the crowd to donate, he keeps his eyes on Mason. In between lines he jumps down from the stool; the now silent crowd steps back a little to give him room. Mason folds his arms and shakes his head as Rian sings about how right he’s treated. The twitch at the corner of his mouth gives him away though and Rian brushes their lips together.

  From the back of the crowd someone calls for “a proper kiss” but one look at Mason’s face tells Rian that will be pushing him too far. Instead, he contents himself with sashaying behind him and bumping their asses together and a quick glance in Jake’s direction gets a double thumbs up. Reassured, he slips his hand in his pocket. The small velvet pouch is still there. Still singing, he tries to tug it open to get to the contents without looking like he’s trying to play pocket pool although smirks in the crowd suggest he’s failing on that score. At least that’s something he can deal with.

  Waggling his eyebrows at the woman closest to he launches into the last verse with a raunchy bump and grind. Mason shakes his head and starts picking up dirty dishes again. As the music fades Rian takes a deep breath.

  It’s now or never.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Mason fights a smile. He can’t see what Rian is doing behind him, but he can guess. Playing for the audience as usual. The man is incorrigible. He has a fantastic voice though and Mason wonders how they’ve managed to be together all these months without him realizing that. He shouldn’t be surprised but somehow, he is.

  Mason starts gathering up glasses and discarded plates to take out to the kitchen.

  “He sings, he dances, he puts up with your grumpy ass.” Tracy leans across the counter to take some of the glasses. “Don’t let that man go, Mase.”

  Mason snorts.

  “Uh… Dad…” Jake nods at something behind Mason. Around him silence settles again over the crowded room and he turns to see what is happening. In the center of the floor, Rian is waiting on one knee, smiling up at him, one ha
nd outstretched. Between his thumb and forefinger is a plain gold band with a diamond set into it.

  Mason swallows, unsure of himself. Looks around the group of people watching and waiting for his reaction. Olivia has one hand pressed to her mouth, tears already on her cheeks and Marsha Lewis manages to look both wistful and tipsy. He feels Jake’s hand on his shoulder.

  “Dad.” Mason turns toward him, eyes wide. “You can’t leave the poor guy hanging there. He’s been making himself sick all week worrying.”

  “You knew about this?”

  Jake grins. “Yeah. He asked me if I would be okay with it. Asked Aunt Tracy too.”

  Mason looks from his son to Tracy who nods, and back again. Finally, he looks at Rian who hasn’t moved and takes two steps closer.

  “Marry me,” Rian says softly.

  “Come on you old grump,” someone yells breaking the silence. “Say yes!”

  “I’m not a grump,” Mason grumbles with a frown. Rian’s smile widens.

  “Yeah you are. But you’re my grump.” Rian stands and holds the ring toward Mason. “Marry me.”

  “Do I look like I’m crazy?”

  “Yes. Marry me.”

  “I’m still not moving to L.A.”

  “Who asked you to? Marry me.”

  “No paparazzi at the wedding.”

  “Deal. Ma – wait. Was that a yes?”

  Mason drags his hands through his hair and takes a deep breath. Shuts his eyes. Opens them and smiles.

  “Yeah, Hollywood. It’s a yes.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  It’s five minutes to midnight when they finally park the car in front of the house. Their house. Mason still thinks of it as ‘the old Chastain place’ even though Rian owns it or that Mason’s clothes are hanging in the closet. Jake and Tracy’s cars are already parked in the driveway and they’ve turned the Christmas lights on.

  “Good thing we don’t have neighbors. Anyone would think it was Rodeo Drive.”

  “You’re the one who insisted we have the damned things.” Mason gets the bags from the back of the car and bumps the door shut with his hip. Hands Rian one and follows him up the steps. From across the road comes the gentle slap of waves breaking on the sand. The clouds are low tonight and it’s likely the rain that’s been moving up the coastline will hit before dawn.