by Mari Carr
“Damn, sweet girl,” Oliver said. “How the hell are we supposed to sit next to you in a restaurant and keep our hands to ourselves with you looking like that?”
Erin flushed slightly at their responses. Gavin got a sense she sometimes struggled to accept their compliments as true. Crazy woman seemed to think she was fat, something that drove him nuts. She was curvy in all the right places.
“I don’t mind canceling,” Gavin said, drawing their attention to his erection.
Oliver punched his upper arm and shook his head. “Nope. We’re not letting you back out, so you might as well give your dick the old ‘down boy’ command right now.”
Gavin grimaced. “Easier said than done.”
Oliver laughed and pointed to his own crotch. “Tell me about it.”
Erin rolled her eyes as she passed between them, continuing down the hallway to the front door. “If we canceled everything on our social calendars based on your hard-ons, we’d never leave the apartment. Let’s get this over with so we can come back here and you two can go down on me. I look fucking hot, and I don’t want to waste it.”
Gavin reached for Erin’s coat, helping her put it on, while Oliver, the devil, lifted her skirt slightly and ran his hand over her slit.
“Panties are already damp,” Oliver mused aloud.
“Fine,” Erin hissed, his light touch obviously making an impact. “It’s not just your dicks that would be responsible for our lack of a social life.”
Gavin placed his hands on her shoulders and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. “Which is why you’re perfect for us.”
They hadn’t come out to anyone yet about their changed relationship status. Not because they were keeping it a secret, as much as Erin hadn’t been lying about their inability to leave the house. Apart from going to work, the three of them were always in too much of a mad dash to hop back into bed together to do much else. Of course, it didn’t help that the pub, the place where they’d always hung out the most, was gone. Gavin figured the last few weeks were the longest he’d gone without seeing the countless Collins cousins, aunts and uncles, as well as Pop Pop. He was glad it was almost Christmas so he could reconnect with everyone—particularly Padraig, whom he’d only seen once since the fire.
“Ready?” Erin said, giving him a sweet, comforting smile. Gavin knew she was worried about him and he appreciated her concern.
He nodded. “Yeah.” He put on his own jacket, then patted the pocket to make sure the wrapped gift Erin had helped him pick out earlier in the day was there. When his mother had mentioned having a gift for him, he’d sort of felt like he needed to reciprocate. Erin had suggested earrings, then helped him decide on a pair of silver hoops.
The three of them piled into Oliver’s pickup truck and they drove to the restaurant. They’d picked a quiet place off the beaten track. It wasn’t super fancy, but in Gavin’s opinion, they served up some of the best crab cakes in the city.
His mother was already sitting at the table when they arrived, and he tried to swallow down his nervousness and anger when he saw the glass of wine in front of her. They hadn’t progressed beyond general niceties, and he hadn’t felt comfortable asking about her recovery. It occurred to him—belatedly—he should have had that conversation before they went out together in public.
“Gavin,” she said, smiling as they approached the table. Unlike him, she didn’t seem to be suffering from anxiety, and he wondered about that. She’d been genuinely nervous at their first meeting, but there was none of that in her now.
She stood up, her arms outstretched for a hug. Gavin didn’t feel comfortable embracing her, but refusing would be rude, so he accepted the hug, keeping it quick.
He gestured to his dates. “You remember Oliver and Erin.”
His mother nodded, the smile she’d given him fading to something that looked a lot more forced. “Of course I do.”
“It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Hawke,” Erin said, and Gavin could have kissed her for the polite lie. Despite their reservations about his mother and this reunion, neither of them would treat her disrespectfully because they cared about him. They were here to support him, not make things harder.
“Please, call me Cecilia.”
Erin nodded, and the four of them sat down before picking up their menus.
“The crab cakes are really good here,” Gavin said to his mother.
She shrugged slightly. “Shellfish doesn’t agree with me.”
Gavin didn’t know that. Not that they’d had money to buy fresh fish when he was younger. The majority of their meals came from cans, easy things he could heat up in a pan or microwave.
“The burgers are good too,” Oliver offered.
Mom didn’t even glance in Oliver’s direction or acknowledge that he’d spoken.
“I think I’m going for the salad with grilled chicken,” Erin said when the silence shifted into the awkward range. “I’ve already started to pack on my extra holiday weight and we haven’t even gotten to Christmas Day yet.”
Gavin chuckled. “You look amazing, Erin. Always.”
He felt his mother watching him as he spoke, and he wondered what she was thinking. He’d never brought anyone home with him from school—male or female—because he was never sure which mother was going to be waiting for him. As such, it occurred to him she’d never really seen him in any relationship—friendship or romance—with anyone that wasn’t her.
“I thought you might become a chef, Gavin. You were always in our kitchen, cooking something up.”
Gavin nodded, swallowing down an uncharitable retort. He cooked because she was always too tired. “I like to eat, so I cook. I wouldn’t say it’s a passion or anything.”
“He’s an incredible builder,” Oliver said. “You should see this guy on the construction site. Plumbing, electrical work, there’s nothing he can’t do.”
Once again, Mom ignored Oliver.
“You’re rebuilding that pub, the place where you lived before the fire?” she asked Gavin.
“Yeah. Well, not me alone. I work for Oliver’s uncles and Sean at… Well, we’re rebuilding it.”
Mom glanced just briefly at Erin before turning her attention back to Gavin. “And you’ll move back in there once it’s completed?”
While there was nothing wrong with her questions, Gavin bristled at the idea of sharing any private information with her. He’d even stopped himself from giving her the name of the construction company he worked for.
“That’s the plan,” Erin answered for him.
Finally, his mother acknowledged someone else at the table besides him. “All three of you?”
Erin was clearly made of sterner stuff than he was. “Yep. Roommates typically live together.”
The waiter came to take their orders, and Gavin bit his tongue when his mother ordered another glass of wine.
Once the waiter left, Erin, as always, found a way to fill the silence, telling them all a cute story about one of the interns dressing up as Santa for the kids in the pediatric ward, then launching right into her adventures shopping for a Christmas gift for her grandparents. Erin was blessed with the gift of gab as well as a wicked sense of humor. Gavin was never more grateful for that than now, when he was struggling to think of a single thing to say to his mother.
Mom was quiet, and Gavin wasn’t even certain she was listening. Unlike he and Oliver, she didn’t ask questions or make comments, and she looked slightly bored.
Gavin focused his attention on Erin and for a little while, he could almost pretend this dinner was like the hundred others he, Erin, and Oliver had shared together over the past year.
The food arrived, providing them a chance to talk about something else mundane and safe. He and Oliver had gone for the crab cakes, Erin the salad, and his mother ordered pasta carbonara, though she ate little of it and instead moved it around on her plate.
“Is it not good?” Gavin asked after a few minutes. “Should we send it back?”
; Mom smiled at him, reaching over to place her hand on his. “You always did take such good care of me,” she said, as if that answered his question. “Always fretting and worrying about me.”
“Would you like to order something else?” he asked, resisting the urge to pull his hand away from hers.
“I got all your packages,” she said, ignoring his question again.
“Packages?” Oliver murmured.
This time, there was no denying that his mother was pointedly ignoring Oliver.
“It was so sweet of you to remember me. All those years.”
Gavin shrugged, wishing he could think of some way to change the subject.
“What packages?” Erin repeated Oliver’s question.
Mom turned her attention to Erin and smiled, though the gesture didn’t feel friendly as much as threatening. “Every year I was away, Gavin brought me birthday and Christmas gifts. So thoughtful. Not that I should have been surprised. No matter how many times the state took him away from me, Gavin always fought to get back to me.”
He wasn’t sure he’d use the word fight. The state brought him back. Those words pounded in Gavin’s brain, but now, like always, he didn’t say them aloud. He considered the foster families he’d been taken to live with, suddenly seeing them with different eyes. He’d always thought them cold, unfeeling people just using the system to get a paycheck. But it occurred to him, a lot of those homes hadn’t been bad at all, the foster parents genuinely wanting to help him.
His feelings for them had been driven by his mother. She’d been the one to tell him foster parents were bad, that they didn’t want him, that no one would ever want him. Then she’d always insist that she was the only person who would ever love him.
He’d lived over half his life believing himself unlovable. Because of her.
What was he doing at this table?
“You took her gifts?” Oliver asked softly.
Gavin swallowed hard and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Such a good son,” Mom said, though it wasn’t clear if she was responding to Oliver or trying to manipulate him. She leaned close to Gavin once more. “You’ve always taken care of me. You know…you don’t have to rebuild that pub. Maybe you and I…” She let her sentence fade there, the unspoken words hovering in the air.
And that was when he saw it…the slightly unhinged look in her eye, and the slightest smell of whiskey on her breath. She hadn’t started with the wine.
This was a mistake. A big fucking mistake.
“I…” Gavin cleared his throat, fighting to say just that, but he couldn’t be sure what her response would be. They were in public. And Oliver and Erin were there. He didn’t want to subject them to…Jesus…her brand of crazy if this all went south.
“Excuse me a minute, please,” Gavin said, rising. “I just need…restroom.” As far as quick escapes went, that was probably the worst, but he needed a minute to pull himself together and to figure out how to extract them from the restaurant without making a scene.
Whatever numbness or indecision he’d experienced in regards to his mother had just given way to a barrage of red-hot rage.
He walked to the restroom on wooden legs, then straight to the sink, where he splashed his face with cold water, fighting to calm down. He gave himself just a few minutes, not willing to leave Erin and Oliver alone with his mother for longer than that.
He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly. It didn’t help.
Typically he was better at controlling his temper, but tonight…his blood was boiling, his jaw clenched, his shoulders tight. He felt the overwhelming urge to punch the wall.
Dammit.
No. No, he repeated to himself. He wasn’t going to give in to the anger, wasn’t going to lash out. Wasn’t going to be her.
He studied his reflection and fought to clear his mind of everything.
Once he’d managed to calm down, he left the restroom.
As he approached their table, he slowed down when he realized his mother was talking, and the outright anger in Oliver’s expression gave him reason to pause. Gavin was standing behind her, so she hadn’t seen him, didn’t realize he was close.
“…don’t know what your family did to him, but my son isn’t a fag like you. I’m back now, and I’m going to fix him. Even when he lived with you and those freaks you call parents, he never forgot me. Never. Gavin will always come back to me. Always. Because I’m the only one he’ll ever truly love.”
Gavin pulled out a handful of twenties and slapped them on the table next to his mother, causing her to jump in her seat.
“Come on,” he said to Oliver and Erin. “We’re leaving.”
Erin and Oliver didn’t hesitate to rise.
“Gavin,” Mom said, standing as well. It was apparent she hadn’t meant to be overheard. “Wait! Give me a minute to explain. You misunderstood.”
He shook his head. “No. I didn’t misunderstand a thing. But I’m going to explain some things to you, because this explanation is long overdue. You and I no longer have a relationship. Shit, we never had one to begin with. You manipulated, used, and abused me my entire childhood. I’m sorry for what happened to you. I really am. And I know there are some things that are off in your head, so maybe you can’t help how you are—but none of that means I have to stand by as a silent victim and take the shit you heap down on me.”
“Gavin, please!” Mom was crying, and while he wasn’t talking loudly, he could see they were attracting an audience from the nearby tables.
“You want to know what I consider the best night of my life? The night you cut my arm. Because that led me to the Collinses. To Ollie.” Gavin glanced at Oliver.
Oliver, his boyfriend, his foster brother, the best friend he’d ever had, gave him an encouraging nod and an understanding smile. “Don’t stop now. You’ve got this.”
“Those people,” Mom whispered. “The way they live. It’s not normal!”
Gavin laughed. “Jesus. Seriously? That’s not a good stone for you to throw, Cecilia.”
His mother winced as he used her real name. He would never call her Mom ever again.
He had a real mother, Lauren, who loved and supported him. That name was hers from this moment on.
“Gavin. You’re all I have,” she said through clenched teeth. “You can’t leave me.”
“Actually…” Gavin stretched out his hand to Erin, who took it and gave it an encouraging squeeze.
“Say it,” Erin prodded. “Don’t hold back. We’re here. We’re always going to be here.”
She’d stood next to him, offering the same quiet support as Oliver the whole time he’d spoken. Her words gave him the strength he needed.
He turned his attention back to his mother. “I can leave you. Because I’ve found a real family, one who builds me up rather than tearing me down, who supports me, cares for me. And I’ve got Erin and Ollie and a happy future, a lifetime of love and, God willing, a lot of kids. Kids who will never have to wonder where their next meal is coming from, never have to go to sleep afraid, never know what it feels like to be burned or beaten. I’ve got a full life now—and there’s no room for you in it.”
Before his mother could say anything else, Gavin reached out for Oliver, who took his free hand—Erin still clinging to the other—and the three of them walked toward the exit. He could feel the eyes of the restaurant’s patrons on them, but he didn’t care.
For the first time in his life, he was comfortable in his own skin. He was through with guilt, through with second-guessing everything.
The second they reached the sidewalk, Erin turned toward him, hugging him tightly. “That was awesome.”
Oliver tugged Gavin out of Erin’s arms to pull him into his. “You were amazing. You are amazing.” He backed that statement up with a kiss.
“Totally amazing,” Erin concurred.
“It’s over,” Gavin murmured, suddenly feeling empty. After so many years on a roller coaster of pain and emotion, he wasn’t sure wh
at to do with the sudden lack of…everything.
“No, it’s not. It’s just the beginning,” Erin said, clasping his hand in hers as she pulled him toward the parking lot. Oliver matched them, step for step.
“So…” Oliver drawled. “Kids, huh?”
That damn goofy grin was back on his best friend’s face.
Gavin released his first steady breath since they walked into the restaurant, and rolled his eyes. “You can’t just let me have one thing without calling me on it, can you?” he joked. “Fine, Ollie. I was wrong about everything all those years ago. You, me, my sexuality, kids…your wild dreams.”
“They aren’t dreams anymore,” Oliver said, wrapping his arm around Gavin’s waist. “We’ve made them a reality.”
Oliver and Gavin kissed quickly as they reached the truck, then they realized Erin had stopped a few feet away from the vehicle.
“Erin.”
“I’m all for the reality, but just for the record, I think we’re going to need to define what a lot of kids looks like.”
Oliver and Gavin laughed loudly, neither one offering a response, instead walking back to Erin and dragging her into the truck.
“I mean it,” she insisted as Oliver started the truck. “I’m going to need to hear a number.”
“Mmmhmmm,” Gavin hummed, kissing her deeply.
“You’re trying to distract me,” she murmured when they parted to suck in some much-needed air.
“Is it working?” Gavin asked.
Erin pouted adorably. “Dammit. Yes.”
“Good,” he said.
She grasped his hand and lifted it to her breast. “I think you should distract me more.”
Oliver groaned and put his foot down on the accelerator. “Wait for me,” he insisted.
“Always,” Gavin said. “Always.”
15
Oliver looked around and grinned. Apparently it didn’t matter a bit where the Collins clan spent Christmas, it was still going to be fun.
Erin and Layla were two too many cups of eggnog in, giggling loudly with his cousins, Yvonne, Fiona, and Darcy. Gavin was sitting between their dads, Chad and Sean, on the big sectional in Caitlyn’s living room, passing around a bottle of Jameson with Padraig, Colm, and Pop Pop as they watched the football game.
