Santa's Last Gift

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Santa's Last Gift Page 13

by Sandine Tomas


  Swallowing, Seb realized that he hadn’t even thought about the potential choking hazard with items that tiny. As if reading his thoughts Matty said, “She’s good about that but it’s best to remind.”

  Nodding, Seb asked, “Should we take it away while we’re driving?”

  They both strapped their seat belts. “Nah. Chance will keep an eye on things.” He glanced in the rearview mirror. “Me too.”

  Seb’s chest felt tight at the notion that Matty would never allow anything to happen to his nieces. His patience and deep well of caring made him a great uncle, more so, a father. That quickened his pulse because Matty wasn’t the same easily distracted boy he’d fallen for all those years ago. And maybe the man he’d become was someone worth the risk to his heart.

  Chapter Ten

  Matthew

  THEY’D split up after the Santa visit, Baz only staying a short while when Matt took the girls home with him, their cajoling paying off and resulting in a sleepover at his home.

  Baz’s mouth had gaped open when the girls grabbed his hand and pulled him upstairs to show off their room in Matt’s house—they spent nights there often enough that Matt had redone one of the bedrooms just for them.

  “We can draw on the walls,” Rowen explained, picking up the chalk.

  Matt had painted the wall behind the girls’ beds with chalkboard paint. Frankly, he wished he had done the same in his bedroom. With a chuckle he wondered what Baz would have made of that.

  Upon seeing Rowen’s demonstration, Baz’s eyes had widened in surprise. “It’s a giant blackboard.” His face broke into the biggest grin. “Cool.”

  Near the ceiling, where the girls couldn’t reach, Matt had chalked in vines, and varied the items hanging off the vines according to the season. Now it was Christmas-themed and Chance had giggled when she spotted the Elf on a Shelf hanging upside down on a wire protruding from the drawn vine, his pom-pom’d cap rustling when the girls jumped on the bed. Matt had his own elf so when the girls visited they’d spot it here as well. It never failed to delight them—or Matt when he watched their enthusiastic reactions.

  Baz was charmed, his lips parted in a wondrous smile. “How’d that little guy get here?”

  “Magic,” Rowen replied with three-year-old definitiveness.

  Leaving the girls to play, he’d walked Baz to the door and the Uber waiting. “Tell Ma and Steph they owe me.”

  But Baz had seen right through him. “Right. Bet you’ll be making milkshakes before the door even shuts behind me.”

  Unable to keep the smile from forming he admitted, “Well, Gertie did sell me some peppermint flavoring that the Beanie uses for its holiday coffees. Mix that baby up with some vanilla ice cream and crushed candy canes….”

  The want in Baz’s stare was palpable and Matt chuckled. “Next time.”

  Baz leaned closer. “Promise?”

  Glancing over his shoulder to ensure the girls weren’t coming down, he leaned forward to plant a soft kiss. “Pinky swear.”

  He was rewarded with a breathy amused huff and a tug on his hoodie strings as Baz backed away with a whispered, “See ya.”

  The rest of the evening passed in comfortable warmth, with a casual soup and salad dinner, sweet drinks, and the usual flurry of questions and observations by his nieces. Now, lying alone in bed, the girls long asleep, he stared at the ceiling, wishing he’d had a way to squeeze in more time to talk privately with Baz. He remained unsettled. On the one hand, Baz had apologized for the way he’d run out, reiterating it during their excursion through Santa’s workshop. There was something about his bashful stuttering that turned Matt to mush. On the other hand, there was an ongoing nervousness filling Baz, as if he were surrounded by live wires that warned “stay away.”

  Matt couldn’t help feeling that even though he and Baz had talked it through, there was something not being said. During their afternoon he’d caught Baz glancing his way and then back at his nieces, something warm glinting behind his cool eyes.

  Rolling onto his side and pulling up the covers, Matt rubbed his lips, remembering the tingling sensation of Baz’s good night kiss. His circular thoughts raced too fast to land. The connection he and Baz shared felt old and new at the same time. It made his skin prickle, like the feeling right before a storm. Baz’s nascent relationship with his nieces, the way he was perplexed around them and treated everything like a discovery. It was sweet in a way that surrounded him in a warming charm.

  Twisting once more, Matt grabbed his phone and clicked on meditation sounds. Trilling bird noises and rustles of leaves bounced around him, whispers of air traveling in lazy arcs through a forest. Visions of long-limbed fairies with translucent wings ringed in gold encircling an ancient grandmother tree danced behind his eyes. As they circled him with fluttering swishes, he drifted off to sleep.

  Sebastian

  AS Seb entered the living room, his mother paused Netflix and drew her legs from the sofa to stretch out and wiggle her feet. “Hi, honey! How was Santa?”

  “The same! I swear that might even have been the same old man.”

  “Maybe it was.” His mother chuckled. “Although that would make him quite old, wouldn’t it?” She clasped her hands together in front of her. “Did Row cry?”

  “Nope. But she did hold on to Chance’s hand until the last second when Santa scooped them up on opposite knees.”

  “You used to cry when you were little. Steph never did, just jumped on up like the old man worked for her and better deliver.”

  “I don’t remember that. I mean my crying.”

  “You were two, like Rowen last year. By the next year you were ready with a list of things you wanted.” Her eyes warmed as she looked him over. “She’s like you, little Row. Quiet and thoughtful.”

  He hummed in agreement because nobody would know that better than his mom. Seb offered his own opinion. “Chance reminds me of Steph.” Sitting in his dad’s armchair, he glanced from the frozen TV screen to his mother. “And Matty.”

  Mom lifted her feet again to tuck them beneath her thighs, gazing at him, expression intrigued. The twinkle in her eyes told Seb she was seeing something more, something buried deep, and he shivered despite the warmth of the room.

  “I don’t want to intrude or make you feel awkward….” She arched her brow and leaned forward. Seb thought that if he’d been on the sofa with her, she would have squeezed his hand. “I understand you and Matt are both adults and there’s always been… well, for lack of a better word, chemistry between you.”

  He choked on his own saliva at that. “Mom! I don’t want to—”

  Tutting, she waved her arm. “I’m not trying to embarrass you. Just so you know if you want to spend time with him while you are here, I understand.”

  That’s when it hit. Always been chemistry. But his parents hadn’t known then that he was gay. He came out to them after he and Matty had broken up or whatever you could call it as they hadn’t claimed to have been boyfriends.

  His worldview upheaved as if someone had reversed the planet’s polar axis. Stephanie had known, but she wouldn’t have outed him to his parents; he was certain of that. Standing, he paced to the fireplace and stared at one of Matty’s figurines, a small doe peering up at a decorated fir tree in a forest, near-invisible wires allowing small fairies to flutter around, their wings edged in what he would have believed was fairy dust given the shimmer that made the air around it look like it was moving.

  “You knew,” he uttered, voice low and small.

  Coming up behind him, she placed a hand on his shoulder, a soft, comforting weight. “Yes, we did. I’ll admit it worried us.” He turned and cocked his head. “Not because of your being gay. But I saw how you looked at Matthew back then. You lit up when he came over.”

  “We didn’t—when you were home, we never….”

  “I know that. And it wouldn’t have mattered either way. I wasn’t worried about you that way, any more than I’d been about Steph. Plus, I made sur
e your dad had that safe sex talk with you, remember?”

  Flushing, he did remember, every excruciating word culminating with the box of condoms his father had handed him. At the time, he assumed his folks hadn’t wanted him to accidentally get a girl pregnant. Nonetheless, Seb had used those condoms and he’d never had unprotected sex.

  His father had said that their mother had told Stephanie the exact same thing. Sex was part of life, but that they always had to be smart so that something fun didn’t become something to regret. After he’d come out, his father reprised the talk, stressing safety once more and asking if he had any questions about sex with boys. He could smile about it now even if the memory of his mortification was a wisp of flame against his face.

  Years later, he’d shared some of that with the few men he’d been involved with and was told each time how special that was—that at best their fathers had mentioned using a condom. More often, the fathers didn’t want to hear about their gay son’s sex life.

  Matty, he recalled now, had eyed the condom box with something close to wonder. When asked how his own father had dealt with the sex talk, Matty had shaken his head and never replied.

  Blinking out of the memory he said, “I remember. No need to have the talk again now, Mom.”

  “That’s not—” Whatever his mother had been about to say got disrupted by Stephanie’s loud steps down the stairs. She was making a strangled sound and tears were streaming down her cheeks.

  “Steph?” Both Seb and his mother surrounded Stephanie. His sister’s face was red and her blue eyes were navy in the dim light, a mix of tears and anger. “Ryan is coming to pick up the girls on Sunday. He wants them with him through the New Year.”

  Seb let out a faint, “What?”

  A throw pillow went flying, landing on the floor near the tree. “I can’t do anything. It’s his turn and he has the right to take them.”

  She collapsed on the sofa, looking as drained as if someone had pulled the plug and flooded all her energy out.

  “Sunday?” Seb repeated dumbly. Tomorrow was Friday—half the month had passed already. And now Premier wanted to know his answer by Tuesday!

  His mind went to Matty. The girls leaving would kill him.

  Mom put her arm around Steph’s shoulders. “Oh honey. I’m sorry.” She took a deep breath. “I know you don’t want to hear this, but he is their father and like you said, that is the arrangement you two worked out.”

  Seb burst out, “But you said last year he’d been willing to come here to keep everyone together! Why—”

  “Well, for starters, last year there was no Brittany.”

  Their mother mouthed, “The girlfriend.”

  Steph shook off her mother’s arm and stood, pacing in a circle. “It’s times like this I wish I smoked, just to give me something to wave around dramatically.”

  Pursing her lips, his mother approached the mantel where Seb stood frozen as if encased in one of Matty’s molds.

  Desperate, Seb pleaded, “Maybe they both can….”

  Stephanie spun toward him with blazing eyes. “No, he won’t come here again. I tried that already—told him to bring her too. I explained that you were here for the first Christmas since Rowen was born, and he said he was sorry but Brittany wants them to visit her family in Rochester. And it is his turn.”

  Seb had to swallow hard against the lump clogging his throat. After years of working through the holidays and never getting to come home, it was beyond ironic that the one time he’d tried to join in, half his family wouldn’t be there. While a few weeks ago he would have thought that might even be a relief, it wasn’t like he was used to little girls, now he thought of Christmas morning and the girls rushing down the stairs to see what Santa left them. Matty’s laugh as he swooped them in bear hugs and flew them around the room with their arms stretched out yelling, “Airplane.” The once lonely boy who’d had to pass other children waiting to talk to Santa, never sitting on Santa’s lap himself.

  No.

  It couldn’t go this way. He had to find a way to keep his family together for the holidays.

  Heart pounding, he fought back an irrational laugh, because it was almost anticlimactic and not even a tough decision. There was no way he was moving across the Atlantic. His family didn’t need him financially anymore. And he found what he wanted to give them and himself was something else altogether.

  Back in his bedroom he stared at his toiletry bag but didn’t bother pulling the hidden envelope back out. It didn’t matter how good the offer was—the cost was too high. He pulled his cell phone out and composed a polite email stating simply that circumstances had changed and that he was declining the position.

  Matthew

  THE following morning, Matt took one glance at Ma’s shuttered expression and sensed something was wrong. The girls scrambled into the house, tossing coats and mittens as they went. “Grandma!”

  From Cheryl’s reaction one would think Chance and Rowen had been gone weeks and not just one night. She hugged the girls to her chest a little too close, making them squirm, and Matt knew.

  “When?” he asked.

  “Day after tomorrow.”

  The air left his lungs, and his heart hammered inside a rib cage that felt too small. “Right,” he replied even though it was anything but. “Where’s Steph?”

  “Shop.” Nodding because he should have known that, Matt looked around. “Seb’s with her.” Cheryl’d read his mind.

  Chance ran back to him. “We’ll see you at caroling later, Uncle Matt.”

  He’d forgotten it was Friday again. “Yes, of course.”

  He glanced over Chance at Cheryl, who shook her head, confirming that nobody had said anything yet to Chance and Rowen. Again, no surprise. He knew that Steph had been avoiding it. The muscles in his jaw jumped. She should have told them, made it something they might even have looked forward to. But even as he thought it, he knew he wasn’t angry with Stephanie. Goddamn Ryan. Why couldn’t he come to Fir Falls again? Matt had tried to be a good host last year, letting the man see the girls in his house and staying in the workshop so it didn’t get weird.

  Cheryl hung the girls’ coats and sent them upstairs with instructions to wash up before lunch. He followed her into the kitchen, slicing carrots as Cheryl started buttering white bread for grilled cheese. The clack-clack of the knife on the cutting board matched the too-quick beat of his heart as he tried to find a way to make the situation suck less.

  “My parents had me stay with my grandparents most Christmases.” He swallowed and forced conviction in his voice. “And it was a good opportunity to spend quality time with them.”

  She’d retrieved a container of leftover soup from the refrigerator, and he heard her stirring it in a saucepan on the stovetop. “If we’d known you then….”

  “Of course. No need to even say it.”

  Cheryl’s voice stuttered. “Do you think Chance and Row will feel like we sent them away?”

  Matt wanted to say no, but he didn’t know. It wasn’t the same situation; he knew that much. “I hope not.” He tried to throw out a little hope. “They had a good time when they spent three weeks with their dad last summer….”

  “I’ve been holding up a strong front for Steph, but as much as I know he’s their father….”

  “Yeah, I get it.” He hugged her from behind, resting his chin on the top of her head.

  She squeezed his arm. “I don’t say it enough, Matthew Starr, but we are so lucky to have you.”

  Coughing to cover up his tight throat, he muttered, “I’m the lucky one.”

  The girls returned, breaking the moment. He helped Rowen onto the tall stool and made sure Chance was settled before placing the sandwiches and sliced carrots and a small bowl of chicken soup in front of them. They dug in as if they hadn’t had waffles with Nutella and bananas for breakfast just a few hours ago.

  Cheryl held a bowl out and asked if he wanted soup. His appetite was dead but he nodded anyway. The girls
ate messily, crunching on the carrots and pulling at the melted cheese. He met Cheryl’s eyes and forced a smile.

  The sound of the front door opening followed by footsteps startled Matt and he lowered his spoon, spinning around. Stephanie met his gaze with a determined tight-lipped expression. “Oh, you’re still here. Good.”

  “Hi Mommy,” the girls called out.

  “Hey munchkins. Were you good girls for Uncle Matt last night?”

  “The best,” he replied at the same time that they both nodded vigorously.

  She glanced between her mother and Matt and something settled behind her eyes, a steel strength that he knew had gotten her through all the hard times. Her eyes were a warmer blue than Baz’s, but at times like this like they reminded him of a frozen ocean.

  Helping them take their plates to the sink, Stephanie watched as each handed one to their grandmother. “I came home to talk to you girls.”

  Chance’s eyes widened and Matt knew that she suspected she wouldn’t like what she was going to hear. Rowen picked up cues from her big sister and stared in her intent quiet way.

  Hustled into the living room, the girls sat on the sofa with Stephanie perched on the coffee table facing them. Cheryl took a seat next to them and Matt moved away to the mantel.

  “Your daddy has a surprise for you this year. You remember Brittany? You met her over the summer. Well, her family lives in a big house not that far from where your daddy lives. It used to be a farm,” Stephanie enthused. Rowen gave her a measured, unimpressed gaze and Matt mused how Baz had that same expression.

  “You know how you visit Daddy every summer? Well, he wants you to visit him for Christmas too. In fact, he wants to take you to where Brittany’s family lives. I think she said there are horses nearby. Doesn’t that sound amazing?”

  “I like horsey,” Rowen said.

  Chance glared at her and Rowen looked down. “We want to spend Christmas here. With you and Grandma and Uncle Matt.”

 

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