Yours for Christmas

by Joe Satoria

  Gio sucked at his teeth. “Not sure I could do fake fiancé, plus, I don’t think you’re my type.”

  Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’m just saying, she’ll see this and think you’ve got money.” He walked around the car to the passenger seat. “She’ll also wonder where her Christmas gift is.”

  “I’ve got gifts,” he called back.

  “What?”

  Gio climbed into the driver seat, nodding into the back of the car. “Look, all wrapped.”

  That was more than Spencer had gotten his parents, looking to the backseat, there were several boxes, each of them wrapped with tags and pretty bows. “You can’t be serious.”

  “Got them for my family, but, I won’t be joining them, so—”

  “Keep them then, they’re for—”

  “It’s fine,” he laughed. “I’ll just get them something else.”

  “Seriously, I haven’t even bought gifts.”

  Gio shrugged and grabbed at Spencer’s hand. “As your fake boyfriend, I do expect a gift on Christmas morning.”

  Spencer snatched his hand back. “I said, no.”

  “Fine,” he grumbled back as he started the car. “We can stop at a service station and see what gifts they have.”

  “Gift cards,” he said with a finger snap. “I get them gift cards. No disappointments, everyone can get what they want.”

  “I don’t want a gift card,” Gio said.

  “Good, because you’re getting the authentic Christmas experience, courtesy of my family,” Spencer said. “Which, begs the questions, what’s my present?”

  “I’m yours for Christmas.”

  TWO

  Two hours into the drive and Giovanni claimed to be an expert on every detail of his fictional relationship with Spencer, right down to their fictional first date.

  “The key is to have one memorable thing, then bullshit the rest,” Gio said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

  “If we can get past the initial questions, they’ll give in and go on about their lives,” Spencer said. “Jack will be with his eternal fiancée; they’ve been planning their wedding for two and a half years. It did get postponed because of a flood, but they’ve been engaged forever. They’ll definitely invite you to the wedding, so just say you’ll think about it, don’t say yes.”

  “When is it?” he asked.

  “Summer.”

  Gio sucked his teeth. “Will we be broken up by then?”

  “Shut up,” he scoffed back. “Yes, we will, I’m already planning on telling my mum in January.”

  “What will you say?”

  “You broke my heart, maybe, cheated.”

  Gio’s eyebrows pinched together, creasing at the centre of his forehead. “I’ve never cheated, that would be out of character for me,” he said, his face easing into a smile as he turned to Spencer. “Tell them it’s your fault, you asked too much of me.”

  “You didn’t satisfy me, sexually,” Spencer added.

  “Spence,” he blew his cheeks out at the comment. “No girl has ever said that, I’m great in bed.”

  “I’m not a girl, for starters,” Spencer chuckled back, biting back his tongue. “Maybe that’s why Ellie cheated?”

  Silence. Gio’s smile slipped.

  “Shit,” Spencer followed up. “Sorry, I didn’t—”

  The comment hadn’t hurt him as much as Spencer thought it had. “She cheated, several times, actually.”

  Spencer flipped his phone around in his sweat slick hands. “Sorry,” he said. “Sometimes, I just come out with stuff, and—”

  “It’s a funny story,” he said. “I haven’t told anyone, a little bit embarrassed by it.”

  Spencer shook his head. “Don’t tell me, I’ll only tell everyone when I’m drunk.”

  Gio looked away from the road, smirking at Spencer. “She was going to break up with me,” he said, “guess why she didn’t?” he continued smiling to himself and tapping his fingers on the wheel.

  Spencer rolled his eyes at what appeared to be a clear set up. “Because you’re so good in bed?”

  “Not according to the reason our fake relationship didn’t work.”

  “Go on then,” he said. “Why?”

  Gio’s eye twitched, recalling an argument he’d had hours before breaking up. “It’s pretty funny. She found a ring, an engagement ring, I think she thought I was going to propose.”

  “Oh, no,” Spencer pressed a hand to his chest. “So, were you—”

  “Shut up, Spence,” he laughed. “I’d only been with her a year, but that ring was from the jeweller’s photoshoot. I had to keep the ring with me for insurance purposes.”

  “No, no way, she thought you were going to propose with a thirty-thousand-pound ring?”

  Gio couldn’t answer from laughing, but he nodded.

  After another hour, it was completely dark on the roads. Spencer’s stomach knotted to know that he’d be outside his family home soon. Even though he was only a drive away from home, Spencer visited as infrequently as he could possible.

  “My mum will probably insist you call her mum as well,” Spencer let out like verbal diarrhoea, “and my dad will definitely want to be called Nathan.”

  “So, no Mr and Mrs Grant?”

  “Not unless you’re a telemarketer,” he mumbled back. “You’re in for a real treat. I wouldn’t be surprised if you broke up with me and tore my heart out over Christmas dinner?”

  “Whoa, I didn’t sign up for meal and a performance.”

  Spencer’s eyes bulged, scoffing. “You have no idea what you signed up for.”

  “I signed up for a homemade Christmas dinner.”

  “You’ll get that, and more, probably.”

  Gio sighed. “I haven’t had one since I was a kid, we just go abroad now, if I’m welcomed in as part of the family, I might decide to keep you around.”

  “You’ll get along with my mum,” he said, “you both have this weird Christmas jumper thing going on.”

  “Embrace it,” he said, whacking at Spencer’s arm. “Or pretend to.”

  Spencer continued turning his phone over in his hand, waiting on a text or call from Melissa. “If you get along that well, you might have to propose, and I will say no.”

  “And ruin Christmas?”

  “It would be a pleasure.”

  “Anyway, didn’t you say your sister was single?”

  “Please,” Spencer pressed his hands together in prayer. “Do that and I’ll have a forever excuse to avoid going home over Christmas.” He raised his brows. “But doing that and dating my sister would mean you’d have to move out and where are you going to find such a nice apartment near work?”

  “I’m only playing.” He whacked his arm again.

  “Watch the road,” he said, whacking a hand back. “Get off at the next left, then I’ll put the sat nav on. I’m hoping it gets us lost somewhere and we have to spend the night in a hotel.”

  Gio chuckled off the comment. He knew as well as Spencer did, getting a hotel this late on Christmas Eve would prove more difficult than getting lost accidentally this close to Spencer’s family home.

  The last time Spencer had seen any of his family had been in March, for his mother’s birthday, she, alongside his father, had paid a visit to Spencer and Melissa in London. They’d left a sour taste in his mouth as they usually did, his mother with her over the top flavour of love mixed with his father’s downtrodden realism.

  “Says we’re almost there,” Gio said, pulling Spencer from his daze, glaring out of the window, his eyes scanning the familiar houses and their festive light designs. “Tell me which one.”

  49 Dash Avenue. A large detached house with a red-brick drive decorated at either side like an airport runway. The lights around the bay window and the stick-on snowflakes tacked to the glass. It was almost like it didn’t change, not that he’d notice, he only came around for Christmas—except for the one Christmas he spent in Mexico.

  “I think I
’m going to have a panic attack,” he said, grabbing at Gio’s arm as he reached for the gear stick.

  “Should I park or—”

  “Reverse, let’s leave,” Spencer suggested. “Oh no.”

  The front door opened wide, spilling fluorescent lighting.

  Rhiannon Grant loved Christmas, not only did she love Christmas, but she spent every morning from October planning and preparing for the perfect Christmas. It had been a while since her children got excited with her, but she was a primary school teacher, and the joy of her small students was enough for her to feed on.

  Dressed in a red knit jumper, Mrs Grant was hard to miss. Her hair was pulled into a ball of brunette curls on top of her head, making the red Rudolph earrings appear larger as the dangled by her neck. “Spencer, my baby!” she called out, announcing his arrival to the entire neighbourhood.

  Spencer was first out of the car, knots permanently stitched in his stomach. He looked back to see Giovanni fidget with the front console, as if waiting to reveal himself like he was making an appearance on Cilla Black’s ‘Blind Date’.

  Mrs Grant squeezed at her son, wrapping him in a chokehold hug.

  “Alright, son,” a deep sombre voice spoke, appearing by the front door. Mr Grant was a balding man, dressed in a Man United football t-shirt with a pair of fleece bottoms. “Just in time for supper.” He nodded and gestured with his large gauntlet glass filled with beer as if to cheers.

  The car door slammed shut and the knots tickled at Spencer’s throat.

  “Supper,” Gio repeated.

  “Posh one,” Mr Grant snickered with a nod to Gio.

  Flushing red, although you couldn’t see it in the colourful Christmas lighting, Spencer stood stiff like a cut-out. “Mum, dad—” turning, he gestured with a hand, “—this is Gio.”

  “Gio,” Mrs Grant repeated, clutching her hands together at her chest. “That’s fancy.”

  “Nice to meet you,” he said with a wave. “Giovanni, but Gio for short.”

  “Oh, come here,” Mrs Grant said, grabbing Gio’s hand as she pulled him into her arms. “We hug. Oh, and don’t you smell delicious.”

  “Mum,” Spencer said through trapped teeth.

  Mr Grant presented his free hand. “Alright pal.”

  Mrs Grant stood beside Gio, sniffing him. “Love your jumper as well,” she said. “We’re almost matching.”

  “Nice to finally meet you,” he said once more. “It lights up too.”

  “Best invite you in,” Mr Grant said with a huff as he exchanged glances with his wife. “Just kidding, finally time Spence found someone.”

  Gio followed Mr Grant in through the front door.

  “Where’s you been hiding this hunk?” Mrs Grant whispered to Spencer as she fanned her face.

  “Mum, please.”

  “What sweet, I haven’t said nothing yet.”

  “Let’s keep it that way, please.”

  “Am so happy for you.” She pinched at his cheeks, feeling at the rosy redness, the cold had yet to touch him.

  Inside the Grant family home, it was filled with tinsel stapled doorways and decorative baby Jesuses. The house was fairly large with four bedrooms and two bathrooms. There was a conservatory and on the decking outside in the back garden there was a jacuzzi hot tub as well as space for their summer barbecues.

  Through the entry foyer they walked into the living room, greeted by a woman in her seventies, sitting with a shaky hand as she huffed on the end of a cigarette. Above her, on the ceiling was a small patch of yellow, stained from years of smoke.

  “Just met your grandmother,” Gio said wide eyed as he nodded to the old woman.

  “Where’s my dad gone?”

  Gio shrugged. “He was just—”

  “Never mind your father,” Mrs Grant said, “you have no idea how long I’ve been trying to get my son to visit, and we all thought he was lying about you, but here you are in the flesh.”

  “Here I am,” Gio smiled back.

  “It’s not the first time our Spence has told a little white lie,” Mrs Grant continued in a chuckle.

  Gio raised his brows, looking to Spencer’s red face. “Gossip.”

  “No, no.” Spencer placed himself between his mother and Gio. “Where’s Colleen?”

  Mrs Grant threw her hands up. “Goodness knows, I think she’s still in work, everyone must be out doing the last day of their Christmas shop,” she let out a single cackle. “You wouldn’t catch me shopping on the final day.”

  “You’re not getting anything for Christmas this year,” Nora spat, stubbing the end of her cigarette in the ashtray on the arm of her chair.

  “Mum,” Mrs Grant said. “You feeling ok?”

  Nora Carlson was a petite old lady, not that she ever stood. She had a thick head of grey hair, quaffed into an odd Elvis Presley style. “Did you make me a cuppa?”

  “It’s next to you,” Mrs Grant continued, guiding her mother to the cup of tea.

  “Where’s the tree?” Spencer asked, turning on the spot in the living room.

  Mrs Grant let out a deep sigh, shaking her head. “We’ve had to scale back a little on the décor,” she gestured to the room. “The tree is up in the other reception room, away from nan, she says its an eyesore.”

  “I’m glad to know there are people in the family that love Christmas as much as I do,” Gio said, standing beside Spencer who he considered was standing uncomfortably alone. “I’ve been trying to get him to open his heart to the season, but—” he shrugged. “I had to fight him to let me come visit his family.” He wrapped his arm around Spencer’s shoulder.

  “Aww,” Mrs Grant let out. “You are beautiful together, absolutely beautiful.”

  “Aww, thank you Mrs Grant,” Gio said, squeezing Spencer.

  “You know, call me Rhi or, mum, I don’t mind,” she said, smiling wildly back. “By the way, Giovanni is a peculiar name. You don’t find many people with a name like that.”

  “Half my family is Italian,” he said.

  “Yeah, pizza all the time,” Spencer said. “Pasta, pizza—”

  “Pesto,” Gio added.

  “Nathan,” Mrs Grant shouted. “You hear that, he’s half-Italian.”

  A grumble came back, followed by Mr Grant hunched over a beer belly with his gauntlet in hand. “We had Italian last night, I thought you were ordering a chippy in for supper.”

  “No, Nathan, don’t be a silly billy,” she said, approaching her husband to swot his arm. “Giovanni is half-Italian.”

  “Spencer said all the best things are Italian,” Gio chuckled.

  “No, no I didn’t,” Spencer immediately snapped back. “I would never—”

  “German motors are better, for a start,” Mr Grant interrupted. “And Italian beer is vile.” He snarled and shook his head.

  Gio looked to Spencer, pressing his smile together while Spencer looked back, the smile of someone who would’ve said ‘I told you so’, and he would’ve, if in the next moment Gio hadn’t lowered his head and pressed his lips to Spencer’s lips.

  He kissed him.

  THREE

  Spencer hadn’t pulled away at first. He let Gio linger. He was in shock; this hadn’t been part of the deal. They hadn’t signed this in their terms and conditions, but in Spencer’s mind they had non-verbally agreed ‘no kissing’.

  “Adorable,” Mrs Grant let out with a squeal. “Our own gays. And under the mistletoe too!”

  The comment made Spencer slightly nauseas. He pulled back and looked away. His father, staring back at his own feet and the foam topping his beer. “I’ll be in the den watching TV.”

  Mrs Grant wrapped her arms around them both, squeezing them as she cooed at their presence. She pulled back and smiled. “Right, you show him around and I’ll order supper in. What are you wanting?”

  “Fish and chips,” Gio said with a nod.

  “Careful,” she chuckled back. “It’s better than that London tosh.”

  “Same,”
Spencer answered with a nod.

  “Mum,” she called to her elderly mother in the chair. “Want something from the chippy?”

  “Bleeding heck, Rhiannon,” her mother shouted back, puffing deep on a new cigarette end. “You’re fattening me up. I’ve told ye already I’m on orders to cut down.”

  “Mum,” she said, softly, approaching her mother in the chair. “They said cut back on the cigarettes.”

  “Ah right, then I’ll have a fish cake and chips.”

  Spencer turned back to Gio, nodding his head. “See,” he mumbled.

  “Mushy peas too,” Nora snapped.

  “Go on,” Mrs Grant said, waving Spencer and Gio away. “Show him around. Take him upstairs.”

  “Will do,” he said, matching his mother’s level of pep in her voice.

  “Upstairs,” Gio chuckled back.

  Spencer smacked his arm as they walked forward. “She probably just wants me to show you all the decorations she’s put up,” he said. “We’re not religious, but she’s oddly obsessed with those little Jesus statues.”

  “I have family in Italy like that,” he said. “Except, they are religious.”

  “Awh,” Spencer said, pouting his lips. “So, I don’t get to come and be your boyfriend for Christmas next year?” his eyes rolled, nodding to the staircase.

  “The sass,” Gio chuckled. “So, will I get to see all your childhood stuff in your room. Probably a bit weird. You were a weirdo, weren’t you?”

  “You’ll be sleeping in the cellar at this rate,” Spencer replied.

  “Your family seem fun.”

  “Keep walking.”

  At the top of the stairs, Gio turned and looked at Spencer with raised brows. “So, which room is yours? I hope it’s filled with teen angst I can tell people at work about.”

  “That’s as long as being my fake boyfriend doesn’t cramp your office cred,” he snapped back. “And no, I don’t have anything embarrassing in there.” He walked ahead, down the hallway to the door marked with a wooden letter ‘S’ and red tinsel tacked to it.

  “Honestly, your mum’s a gem,” he said.

  “She works in a school,” he added. “She does this for everything. I’m sure she owns shares in a tinsel factory.” He stood at the door for a moment, the regret coming back through. “Just to remind you, you decided to come with me, not the other way.”