Rowen looked down at her feet. “Row?” Seb asked.
“It smells like pee.”
Not wanting to know more about that, Seb nodded at her in a way that was actually like her own quiet headshake and no more was said.
Glancing at his watch, he determined they had time to do a small load and still get to the grocery store to replace the empty milk container and other used-up essentials like eggs and bread. He didn’t know how his mother and sister handled it all when he wasn’t around—actually, he understood now how Matty had become so integral. Matty even made sure Mom and Steph ate lunch by bringing it to them in the shop on busy days.
Laundry running, he bundled the girls in their parkas, hats, and mittens, and they all set out in Steph’s Highlander. Once the girls were strapped in, he cautioned them in the rearview mirror, “This has to be quick. We don’t want the clothes to sit around in the washer too long or they get a musty smell.”
“What’s muzzy?” Rowen asked.
“Musty,” he corrected. “It means like an old, wet smell. Like the smell of fall leaves after a big rain. You know that smell?” In the mirror he saw Rowen scrunch her nose.
Seb spent the rest of the day getting a firsthand taste of what being a parent of small children entailed—alternately watching bemusedly as the girls played an imaginative game involving fairies and dress-up mixed with snippets from various movies, extemporizing a solution when Rowen wanted a turn at being Rapunzel and Chance insisted that Rapunzel had to be blond like herself, cajoling them to finish their egg salad sandwiches—crudely cut into shapes in an effort to ‘do it like Uncle Matt does’—and reading what felt like a library’s worth of books to make sure they got the ‘quiet time’ Steph had emphasized as very important.
When Steph and his mom got home, they ate breakfast foods for dinner, which delighted all the women in the family. Seb prepared french toast as well as bacon and turkey sausage links. His nod to healthy was the fruit he served with the french toast—bananas and pears with a sprinkle of dried cranberries. To top it off he dusted it all with powdered sugar—a handy tip from his favorite caterer. He was delighted by the messy smiles he got as they dug in. After dinner he disappeared to shower before helping the girls pack for their overnight.
Steph found him folding pajamas in the girls’ room. “You sure you don’t mind dropping them off? I could do it if you want.”
“Nah, it’s close and I’ll be heading to Matty’s right after.” He pointed to the folded array of children’s clothes on the bed near the open tote bag. “Do I have everything?”
Inspecting, Steph tossed over an extra pair of Rowen’s panties mumbling, “Just in case.” Then she smiled and picked up a clean and fluffy Mr. Duffy, eyeing it with a raised brow. “Did you wash him?”
“Yep. I ran a laundry load earlier while we shopped for groceries.”
“Oh my God, how has some man not snatched you up yet, little brother?”
“Maybe I’m not that great a catch?” he tossed back.
She smirked. “I know you don’t believe that.” Her face softened. “Still waiting for the right one?”
“I don’t need a man to be happy,” he replied, which made her laugh as expected.
“Touché.”
“Pack your own bag yet?”
Flushing, he gently nestled Mr. Duffy in the tote and didn’t answer. After a few moments he said, “You’re on your own for breakfast.”
Stephanie squeezed his shoulder and swished her ponytail as he finished packing everything up. “Good.”
HAVING only nibbled during the family dinner because Matty was cooking for him, Seb was starving by the time he rang Matty’s doorbell.
Matty kissed him at the door with a loud smack and grabbed the overnight bag as Seb hung up his jacket. Matty ran it up the stairs while Seb walked into the kitchen, where a delicious smell was coming from the slow cooker on the counter. He was about to peek inside when he was enfolded in strong arms.
“Uh-uh. It’s got….” Matty leaned over his shoulder to peer at the timer. “Three minutes left.”
“Smells amazing,” Seb said.
“It should. It’s been cooking for like ten hours.”
Seb detected the comforting aroma of beef, sweet carrots, and onions. “Stew?” he guessed, turning to face Matty.
At Matty’s affirmative nod, Seb smiled. “My favorite. Mom made it in the slow cooker when we were kids.” Matty smirked. “Wait. Is this my mom’s recipe?”
“It could be,” Matty admitted. “I added some beer, but it’s basically the same.”
The timer went off and Seb felt saliva pooling in his mouth. He was so hungry he could eat the whole thing on his own. “I made dinner for the family but didn’t eat with them.”
“French toast… I heard. Chance and Row FaceTimed me. They looked like they were doused in flour, but they informed me it was powdered sugar. They’ve warmed up to you. It’s great.”
“They are great kids. And so smart. Sometimes when Rowen’s talking, she doesn’t seem like a three-year-old. Like we got to talking about owls, not sure why, and I brought up that they’re nocturnal and that’s why they aren’t around much. And I’m thinking I’m going to have to explain what ‘nocturnal’ is or that she’ll ask. But she doesn’t—she says instead, ‘That’s not right. They are there but you can’t see them in the dark.’”
Matty smiled, shiny teeth gleaming. “That’s my Row. Smarter than the average bear.”
Warmth filling his insides like he’d swallowed hot tea, Seb said, “That’s one of your things with her. I’ve heard you say it before.”
“Can’t go wrong quoting Yogi.” He carefully unsnapped the slow cooker’s lid. “Were they happy to go spend the night with Ava and Darren?”
“Oh yeah. Couldn’t jump out of the car fast enough.”
After filling up plates, they ate side by side at the counter. Matty’d offered to set the dining table but Seb didn’t mind informal. He’d had a lifetime’s worth of formal dinner settings. The meat was butter-tender and the vegetables all blended in savory goodness to explode in his mouth with warmth and well-being. Eating the stew reminded him of snowy days with his family, setting up the Scrabble game to play with his dad and sister while his mother chopped celery and potatoes and told them to wait for her, she needed a few more minutes. Seb would help her then, so she could join the game. He’d learned a lot of life skills by her side that he hadn’t appreciated, but they were coming back to him during this visit, and he was glad to realize they were fallow but not dead.
“The beer’s a nice touch.”
“Yeah, I started adding Guinness a few years ago and never looked back. It’s got that malty touch, you know.”
“It’s great,” Seb said between mouthfuls. He thought he should slow down as it hit him that he’d been literally stuffing his face.
“I’m glad you like it.” Matty gave him a crooked grin before taking another bite from his own dish. “I made a ton. I’ll give you a container to take back for the family, okay?”
“Sure. That would be super.” Matty had served the stew with Newcastle Brown Ale, and Seb took a sip from the tall glass. He was more a wine drinker than a beer connoisseur, but the malty punch and caramel underpinning complemented the meal and the ale was light on the alcohol, which he appreciated. Above all, Seb wanted to enjoy this evening. Every sensual moment of it.
They loaded the dishwasher side-by-side and Seb leaned against the lower cabinets as Matty started it up. He blinked and then flushed when he realized he was being watched. “What?” he asked at Matty’s sly gaze.
“Nothing. Just… you.” That made Seb’s cheeks heat further. What was it about this man that made Seb feel like a teenager? Well, he knew the answer to that. The truth was that he needed to get his head out of the past. It was starting to complicate things and this was simple, not complicated, right?
Pushing off from the cabinet, Seb stood in front of Matty. He wanted to ask what they
were doing, what it meant. He could tell from his furrowed brow that Matty was aware that Seb was holding something back. He prided himself on having quite the poker face, but not here, not with Matty.
After a small head shake, Matty asked, “Want to watch a movie?” Grateful for the reprieve, Seb agreed.
They settled into Matty’s luscious sofa and Seb couldn’t help but smile when Matty lifted his arm in invitation for Seb to cuddle against him. A warm puff of breath grazed his temple and it was all Seb could do to hold in the sigh wanting to escape. It was comfortable, it was warm, it was safe. His apartment in New York was also a safe space for him, but in a different way. In fact, safe wasn’t the right word in that instance—his space in New York was quiet. His job entailed noise and bustle and streams of people. Landing in his apartment at the end of a long event, he’d shut the door and the sparse serenity would wash over him. It wasn’t so much that his decorating style was minimalist, but rather that he needed that feeling of orderliness so he could recharge and get back in gear for the next event.
This, however, was something else. The girls hadn’t been over yet to hang ornaments on the Christmas tree in the corner, though Seb could spot several green and red plastic boxes stacked against the wall to the right of the tree. Matty had strung the lights and put a sparkling glass star on top, giving the fir the feeling of waiting expectantly for its adornments. The red-and-white gingham tree skirt with the edge of dancing elf appliqués clashed with the orderly patterns and earth tones that dominated the rest of the room. Following Seb’s gaze, Matty chuckled.
“Ma made me the tree skirt for my first Christmas back in this house.” With his face so near, Seb could feel the curve of Matty’s lips against his jaw as he grinned. “So, I love it, you know.” Tugging him closer, Matty brushed his fingers against Seb’s shoulder, strumming as if Seb were an instrument. “Oddly enough, my parents also sent me a tree skirt that year. It was….” He paused in thought, fingers still playing with the seam of Seb’s shirt. He exhaled a wry chuckle before he proceeded. “Elegant. Gold sateen with embroidered poinsettias in gold and white thread.”
Seb couldn’t help himself; he knew his mom meant well but that gingham was awful. “Why don’t you use the one your parents gave you? Gold would look incredible against your dark floors, and Mom would understand your wanting to use a gift from your parents.”
Next to him Matty stiffened. “I know she would.” Shifting, Matty put his socked feet on the sofa, leaning sideways against the wide rolled arm, knees bent and hands wrapped around his legs. He looked like a turtle retreating into a shell and Seb’s heart contracted. He hadn’t meant his words to be upsetting.
“Matty?”
Meeting Seb’s eyes Matty had an inward expression, so different from his normal animated open face. “I know,” he repeated. “Ma would understand. But I would never—” Squeezing his knees inward, Matty looked defensive. “I get this seems weird, my attachment to your mother. Especially as I’m not some poor orphan. Hell, I still have both my parents whereas your dad….”
The reminder of his father’s death caused an immediate clench in Seb’s gut. It was a wrongness he didn’t think would ever fade. He nodded because he didn’t know what to say.
He’d met Loraine and Griffin Starr several times after he and Matty had started hanging out as teens. Loraine was a slight woman with dark brown hair, an oval face, and a pointed chin. He couldn’t remember ever seeing Matty’s mother not wearing a pencil-thin skirt with a button-down blouse that shimmered in the light. Griffin Starr was a quiet man who doted on his wife.
They were wealthy, and Seb remembered his own parents saying the Starrs were descended from the Fir family who had founded the town and established the glass factory. The Starr home had been one of the first built, and it was set on the only hill in the area. As a child, Seb had imagined mountains of dirt piled under the foundation to make the house taller than its neighbors.
“Which side of your family is related to the town’s founders?” Seb asked.
Matty blinked in surprise. “My father’s. My great-grandfather was Edward Fir. His daughter married Robert Starr, my grandfather. The factory closed under his stewardship.”
“I was very young when that happened. I remember my folks huddled around the table talking and clamming up when my sister and I appeared.” He’d been helpless then, which was why he was grateful when he was finally able to make a difference financially.
“I’m sorry.” Matty’s eyes took on a molten glow in the low light.
Reaching forward to take each of Matty’s hands in his own Seb said, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“My father didn’t even try to save the family business. He just helped his father liquidate all the holdings, pay out the meager severance, and board up the factory.” The flatness in his tone made his features seem stark. “They kept some of the glasswork. I don’t know if you visited the factory as a kid. There was this one display case with art pieces dating back decades.”
Seb nodded. He remembered that. But it hadn’t left the indelible mark on him that it had on Matty. “Is that part of what interested you in the art that you do?”
Matty’s finger trailed up Seb’s palm, nail grazing along the sensitive skin. He stared at him wide-eyed. “I never thought about it like that. Always credited my mother for my love of art. She took me to a lot of museums. We’d head into New York City a few times a year. Or up to Boston. She introduced me to RISD long before I considered going there.”
“Was she proud when you were accepted?”
“I guess she was, yeah. I mean everything is understated with Mother. But she did say, ‘Well done, Matthew.’”
Seb stopped himself from responding to that. Well done? The Rhode Island School of Design was one of the premier art schools in the country and denied many more students than it accepted. He’d looked into it for kicks a few days ago when Rowen had announced to Seb that she was going to be an artist like Uncle Matt and go to the same school he did. He’d thought at the time, who picks out their university at three?
Looking at Matty’s inward gaze, Seb pulled Matty toward himself. Close to his ear he said, “Well I think you are an incredible artist. And if I haven’t said it before, I should have, but thank you for being such a wonderful uncle to my nieces.”
Unfolding his arms, Matty met Seb halfway, placing a soft kiss on his lips. “I’m so glad you came home,” he whispered, stunning Seb with his directness.
Home. As their lips met, Seb felt like he was swimming in the word. Around him the smell of balsam needles from the tree and cinnamon from the candle that Matt had lit on the mantel drew him into the holidays like he hadn’t felt in years. It had seemed a waste in the past, all that fussing and decorating, gift shopping in crowded stores playing the same five holiday tunes incessantly.
He had forgotten this—the glow, the stars, the clear angelic voices in sync. Saying not only thanks but also welcome. Matty’s tongue flicked along the seam of Seb’s lips until he parted them, and Seb’s breath left him in a quick whoosh. Their evening stubble slid together with wonderful friction as Seb tilted his head to deepen the angle. He felt the slip of Matty’s tongue inside his mouth, making him shiver from navel to tiptoes. Matty brought his teeth together to tug at Seb’s bottom lip and lowered his palm to the small of Seb’s back, drawing them close, chest to hip. A rough sound escaped Matty’s throat and Seb thrust his tongue deeper, wrapping around Matty’s and sucking gently.
Seb swallowed hard, breathing uneven and heart slamming in his chest. When Matty pulled back, he let out a whining groan and was consoled by the firm caress up his back. “I’ll go make us some popcorn and bring us a couple more beers for the movie.”
“We could skip the movie,” Seb suggested, huskiness still infusing his voice.
Matty beamed. “We could.” He stood and pulled Seb up with him. Taking a purposeful step back, he said, “I’m going to put the leftover stew in the fridge and lock u
p for the night. You go on up and I’ll meet you. Okay?”
Taking the steps two at a time, Seb made his way to the master bedroom. He spotted his overnight bag on a chair in the corner. After pulling out his toiletry case he walked into the en suite bathroom and set it down on the long countertop. He had removed his toothbrush, skimming the slim job offer envelope with his fingers, when his cell vibrated in his back pocket.
Wondering if it would be Steph with some unsolicited big sister guidance, he glanced at the screen for several long moments before opening the email from Premier Planning’s HR representative.
…. Sorry to have to push the issue when we said you could reply by January 2, but circumstances now require your acceptance no later than Tuesday, December 20 and commitment to a January 3 start date….
Staring blindly into the mirror, Seb squeezed the phone so tight it felt slippery beneath his sweaty palm. He had one week to reply. It shouldn’t be so shocking. He’d known he was going to give them a decision and the answer hadn’t been in question. But… he could still feel the warmth of his nieces’ hugs as they’d said goodbye on the doorstep of their friends’ home. His mother’s eyes, warm and pleased when he placed the sugar-dusted french toast before her. Steph’s smirk and wink at the door.
And Matty… on his way upstairs in a few moments. Expecting more of the intimacy they’d shared. What had Seb been thinking? How could he sleep with Matty and commit in just a week to moving to another country? If he allowed this to continue, if he stayed tonight… it would be more than just a fling to Seb. But his plans made more than that impossible. Matty had proven capable of having sex and then walking away. But that wasn’t Seb, wasn’t the way he was wired. And he’d been fooling himself that this time would be different.
Ten years ago, after whatever they’d had ended, Matty had tossed him a friendly grin as he passed him in the school hallway, laughing with another boy, checking the boy with his hip in that affectionate way he’d done walking with Seb. And Seb hadn’t even been granted anger, because not once had Matty ever promised anything more than casual.
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