Out for the Holidays

by Cara Dee

  “If it’s related,” he pointed out and reached for his cell. “And you answered your own question. I’m not on Instagram, so they have to get in touch with me the old-fashioned way. Like normal people—fuck.” He grimaced. “It’s Joseph.”

  “Someone’s forgotten to unfollow me,” I said with a grin.

  He sighed and answered the call. “I’m not sure we have anything to say to each other, Joseph.” He listened to whatever the asshole had to say, and the more Joseph spoke, the grimmer Henry’s expression became. “Are you quite finished? Because I am. I’ll miss the friend you used to be, but frankly, I’m beyond ready to get rid of the vindictive person you’ve become. Zachary’s told me everything.” I studied Henry’s face while Joseph replied, and I could hear him getting heated. So was Henry. “You’re damn right that I trust him. For chrissakes, you’re living in another universe if you ever believed I—what?” He blew out a breath, frustrated. “The way I see it, I’m not throwing away a fucking thing.”

  Joseph had more to say, but Henry was done. I could tell.

  “Let me say it, please,” I whispered urgently. “I can’t take it anymore.”

  A spark of rueful amusement lit in Henry’s eyes, and he finally—fucking finally—conceded. With a small nod, he let me take over, and I grabbed the phone from him.

  Sheer giddiness exploded inside me as I said my piece. “Bye, Felicia!” I ended the call, groaned loudly in relief, and flopped onto my back. “Oh God, was that as good for you as it was for me?”

  Chapter 8

  I Still Want My Sword Fight

  “We need to decide on Christmas presents for the boys,” Henry said, taking a sip of his coffee. “Sunny-side up for me, please.”

  I bobbed my head to the beat of the Christmas song playing in the background and flipped my eggs. “Maybe we don’t discuss it when they’re upstairs?” It was nine o’clock, and they’d be up any moment. The toilet flushed a while ago.

  “I probably shouldn’t tell you what Martin wants to give them.”

  Uh, no. Plating the eggs, bacon, and two bagels, I brought the food to the kitchen island and sat down on the stool next to Henry. “Is it a three-letter word?”

  “Possibly.”

  Then, fuck no. It irritated me something fierce. “He’s not giving them new cars again,” I hissed.

  “To be fair, it’s about upgrading the lease—I see your point.” He switched gears at my glare. I drew the line at upgrading vehicles as if they were cell phones. It was fucking insane. Bad enough that they had cars in both Camassia and here. “You’ll give Martin the news, yes?”

  “No problem.” I dug my phone out of the pocket of my sweats and sent him a text. The queen could try to guilt me all he wanted; I’d heard it before.

  “I have no kids of my own. What’s so wrong with spoiling my pseudo-nephews?”

  Nope, it wouldn’t work on me anymore. “I think we should make it a rule that all gifts gotta be able to fit under the tree at home.”

  “Works for me.” He used utensils to eat his bacon. The man was strange. “Is there anything in particular you want?”

  “What any gay man wants.” I scratched my exposed chest and bit into the crispy bacon. “No soft packages.”

  Henry chuckled into his coffee mug. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  Let’s be honest, though. The best part about Christmas, aside from the food, was the stocking stuffers. Few things topped gift cards and humorous trinkets. Last year, Henry gave me glow-in-the-dark condoms for shits and giggles, but he drew the line at being my Darth Gayder and engaging in a lightsaber fight. No matter how much I begged, he wouldn’t go there.

  “Penny for your thoughts?” he wondered.

  “Lightsabers.”

  “Oh Jesus Christ, not this again.”

  I laughed and took a gulp of my juice.

  Moments later, a heavy thudding traveled down the stairs, and we looked up to see Ty and Mattie joining us. They were acing the messy bed heads and, like me, wore only sweats. And what in the actual fuck.

  “Mattie, when did you pierce your nipple?” I stared at him incredulously.

  He yawned and went for the coffeemaker. “I don’t know, few months ago. Didn’t you see the memo in Nipples Weekly?”

  Henry snorted. “You’re two smartasses in a pod.” He eyed Mattie pensively. “Don’t let it get infected, though. I’ve read some horror stories about piercings.”

  “Yeah, Mattie.” Ty slapped my brother’s shoulder. “Horror stories. Promise Daddy H you’ll rub aloe on it every day.”

  “I’ll be careful.” Mattie smirked sleepily and sat down with his coffee. Next, a thought hit him because he furrowed his brow at Ty. “I thought we were changing it to Big Poppa.”

  Or you can just go with Dad…

  They made me grin. As we’d slowly morphed into a family, Henry and I had been assigned very different roles. And they thought they were sly when they joked about Henry being the father in the house, but I saw through them. They’d both found something they’d needed in Henry, and it was mutual.

  I’d been given the role of older brother, even by Ty, though they respected me a bit more than a regular brother. They asked me for permission and stuff when they knew it was necessary, but it was Henry who received papers from school and whenever they needed something signed.

  Henry ate that shit up.

  Breakfast continued amidst mindless chatter and more food being added to the island. Henry and Mattie took turns with the various sections of the paper, Ty was scribbling notes on his digital sketchpad, and I scrolled through my notifications on Instagram. Given the number of complete strangers that followed me now, I had to sift through a lot of heart-eyes emojis before I found comments from actual friends.

  Which reminded me… “By the way, we’re engaged,” I told the guys.

  Their heads snapped up, a dual, “What?” slipping out.

  “I asked Zachary to marry me last night.” Henry kissed my temple.

  “That’s awesome. Congrats, guys,” Ty said with a smile.

  “Yeah, congratulations.” Mattie nodded and refolded his paper. “Maybe Zach can stop filling his Pinterest boards with engagement ideas now.”

  I had no idea what he was talking about. Ty and Henry clearly did, ’cause they thought it was worth some serious laughing at.

  “I don’t know how Pinterest works,” I defended. “I’m not even on there!”

  “That’s so funny,” Henry chuckled and pulled out his phone. “I have to tell Martin.”

  I rolled my eyes.

  “You’re such a couch hog, darling.”

  “I know, this is amazing.” I stretched out further and bit his flannel-covered thigh playfully. He was the best pillow in the world, and this was a seriously fantastic couch. The L-shaped slice of heaven divided the living room and kitchen, meaning the cupboards of snacks were never far away. The coffee table was full already, and we had the latest season of The Walking Dead playing to complete the perfect engagement celebration.

  Henry combed my hair back with his fingers and smiled down at me. “You’re happy.”

  “I’m fucking blissful.” I’d be even happier if he lost his tee. I liked having a masculine chest to ogle. “What about you?”

  He stroked my cheek. “If the old me met me today, I would’ve found this new version obnoxious for how happy he is.” He nodded at the table. “Hand me some of those gummy bears, will you?”

  Ah, my snob. Regular ones weren’t good enough. He bought this stuff at some upscale boutique in Beverly Hills and kept it hidden from Mattie and Ty. I wasn’t going to admit I loved the candy too. I had a reputation to uphold.

  He took the colorful pieces and tossed a couple into his mouth. “When do you want us to speak to Mattie?”

  I checked the clock above the flat screen. “Before I step out to get us dinner—or whenever he has the time.” I looked back up at Henry. “Is Ty going up to Malibu tonight?”

  He nodd
ed, and I wasn’t surprised. Ty usually spent the night above the bookstore and had dinner with Martin when he didn’t have classes the day after. As for Mattie, he was trickier to pin down. He was upstairs studying right now, and he had class later. There was something about a study group too. He had too much going on.

  Henry and I spent the next few hours cuddling our asses off, eating too many snacks, drinking sodas until we almost burst, and losing a few characters on The Walking Dead. Mattie came down here and there, only to get a drink before running up again.

  In between episodes, I responded to messages from friends congratulating us on the engagement, and Henry had a minor bitch fight with Martin about everything from the wedding, engagement party, to the boys’ Christmas gifts.

  “Just let him host a damn party,” I said, biting off a piece of candy. Coke-flavored gummy worms this time. I’d already finished the chocolate and probably gained a ton. Brooklyn was gonna love that.

  “He wants us to extend our stay,” Henry replied. “That’s why I said no.”

  “Oh. Good boy.”

  He cocked a brow at me. “Careful, Zachary.”

  I poked his nose. “Boop.”

  His eyes lit up with laughter, though he actually managed to keep from grinning.

  “You two are nauseatingly sweet.” Mattie was at the bottom of the stairs, and he pretended to gag before veering right for the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”

  “Benny’s Tacos.” I sat up and ran a hand through my hair. “You look tired, little brother.”

  He lifted a shoulder and grabbed a bottle of water. “I gotta hand in a paper tomorrow.”

  Henry cleared his throat and sat forward a bit. “Sit with us for a moment, Mattie. Zachary and I have some concerns we’d like to discuss with you.”

  Mattie wasn’t used to being in trouble, so he always got this wary look on his face when someone wanted to talk. Closing the fridge, he walked over and sat down on the short end of the couch.

  “What’s up?” He reached for a bag of chips but didn’t open it.

  “We think you’ve signed up for too many classes,” I stated.

  He frowned. “The more classes I take now, the easier it’ll be when I’ve picked my major next year.” He’d long since zeroed in on engineering, and I’d been told they often went into their field earlier.

  Henry leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “There’s no rush, though, sweetheart. If this is about your scholarship—”

  “Fuck the fucking scholarship,” I said. “Mattie, I’m finally in a position where I can pay for your education. But you insist on this shit, and it’s turning you into a zombie. When was the last time you slept eight hours?”

  “That’s not a thing,” Mattie joked. “People don’t actually sleep that long.”

  I stared at him, not finding it funny. Dammit, he was too much like me. Even now, thinking back on what I said just ten seconds ago… Henry had been offering to help Mattie for as long as we’d known him. Mattie refused. My brother had been busting his ass to get perfect scores for years, and I wasn’t sure he knew how to power down and take it easy. Kinda like I’d struggled—and still did. Henry and I could go fifty-fifty on everyday stuff, and the fact that it was my name on the mortgage here in Santa Monica provided a fuzzy blanket of comfort. But it was bullshit.

  “Fuck this.” I gripped my hair, realizing what I had to do. It was time to accept and go all in. At that thought, I glanced at my hand. At my ring. All in. “Okay.” I swallowed. “From now on, we’ll do the merge thing.” I waved a hand, uncomfortable as fuck. “It’s not about Henry paying for your college or me paying. It’s us. You’re working yourself into an early grave because you put yourself on a deadline and think you’re gonna lose the scholarship.”

  Henry shifted closer and threaded our fingers together, holding my hand firmly.

  “But I’m fine, guys,” Mattie insisted. “I have…maybe ten more days of this. I’ll hand in my paper and finish the damn Calculus that’s hanging over my head, and then I’ll have two weeks off. Plenty of time to rest, right?”

  Yeah, and then what?

  Mattie rose from the couch and smirked tiredly. “I’m serious. I appreciate what you’re doing, but I’m fine.”

  I didn’t believe him. I knew my brother’s tells, and he was more anxious lately. I’d missed it somehow, which made me feel horrible.

  Mattie returned upstairs.

  I tilted my head at Henry.

  “We’ll convince him when he comes home for Christmas,” he murmured.

  I nodded.

  “Did you mean it?” he wondered.

  I knew he was talking about the finances, and I nodded again. “I’m sorry it took me a while.”

  He shook his head and pressed his lips to my forehead. “You and Dominic are the same.”

  What? The mention of my buddy from back home caught me off guard at first. Then I realized Henry was right. Given Dominic’s rough past, one where money mattered the most because nothing else would keep you fed for the day, he’d struggled a lot to accept what Adrian did for him. Their circumstance was more extreme than ours, yet the principle was the same.

  Henry kept reminding me that much of his wealth was inherited; there was our age difference, and there were things more important than money in our situation. It was about time I listened to him.

  Shrugging on my leather jacket, I walked over to the kitchen island and wrote a note for the boys while Henry took our luggage out to the cab.

  Good morning, Earthlings

  We expect you at home on the twentieth. Martin will be here with dinner on Wednesday, don’t forget. Call us if you need anything. Love you both,

  Zach & Henry

  “Are you ready?” Henry asked.

  I nodded and left the kitchen. “I found a receipt for the cleaning service, so I used your credit card to pay for the next month.” It would give Mattie—and Ty—less to worry about.

  “Our credit card, you mean?” He smirked faintly.

  “Baby steps, man. I used it. Focus on that.”

  He chuckled and ushered me outside. Then we took the Uber to LAX and managed to beat traffic—or traffic by LA standards. Breakfast in the lounge led to celebratory mimosas because we were finally going home.

  The flight was uneventful, as was the ride up to Camassia, and I couldn’t fucking stop smiling. Washington was covered in snow, and after just recovering from a three-day blizzard, there were reports of a storm much worse rolling in. Thank you, Canada!

  Neither Henry nor I wanted to leave the house for a while once we got home, so as soon as we entered the town limits, we visited Nan and then went grocery shopping.

  “I’m gonna be naked the entire time,” I declared.

  “It’s the holiday season, darling. I want candles lit everywhere to make it truly cozy.”

  “Okay, so I’ll wear fireproof boxers.”

  “And definitely no sword fights.”

  I looked to him accusingly. “Funsucker.”

  He laughed. “Cocksucker.”

  Hnngh.

  Nothing could ruin my Christmas now.

  Chapter 9

  Forgive Me, Father, For I Hate Sexathons

  Day four of being home alone with my fiancé, two dogs, and one cat: I’m loving life.

  “Something smells awesome, baby,” I said absently, scrolling down on my laptop. We’d officially welcomed the snowstorm of the century, and that meant online shopping. While I occupied the sofa in the living room, Henry was experimenting with making holiday candy.

  “I think this batch will be successful.” He was trying a recipe for fudge that Martin had sent him. “Would you like some more hot cocoa? I’ll bring it to you.”

  I grinned to myself, finding him too fucking cute. He was in his Christmassy doting mood, and I got everything handed to me. In his words, it had to be perfect. Soft Christmas music was playing in the background, the tree glowed red, green, and gold with its lights and dec
orations, the dogs were napping on the rug in front of the fire, and there was always a delicious smell coming from the kitchen. When he’d told me he was obsessed with the holidays, he hadn’t been lying.

  To top it all off, the snow was coming down hard outside the big floor-to-ceiling windows. The river was just a blanket of white.

  “Do you think Martin will like bunny slippers as a stocking stuffer?” I asked.

  “Describe them for me.” He wrestled with a bag of mini marshmallows as I caught his reflection in the window.

  “They’re pink, and one says ‘Fucking,’ and the other says ‘Like.’ There’re sparkles on the bunny ears too.”

  Henry laughed. “You have to get them.”

  That’s what I was thinking. We had six stockings hanging over the fireplace, and I wanted them all full of funny shit.

  Since my laptop and phone were synced, the alert for a text from Martin popped up in the middle of my shopping spree.

  I have to tell someone, but you cannot tell Henry. I saw my ex last night, and it was amazing. Picture me drawing out the word. That amazing! Don’t tell Henry.

  “Henry! Martin’s with the car thief again, and I can’t tell you.”

  “I swear,” Henry growled. “What the hell is wrong with him? You know what, I won’t help him this time. When his car gets stolen, I’ll give him the number to a car dealer. Mark my words.”

  I wasn’t gonna mark them.

  He came over with a mug of steaming hot chocolate, topped with whipped cream and marshmallows. “Ask him what happened to that nice man he was dating before Thanksgiving.”

  I complied, firing off a reply.

  What happened to Thomas?

  “Thank you.” I accepted the mug and took a slow sip, then licked the excess cream off my upper lip, and Henry sank down on the couch next to me. “He’s typing.”

  He turned forty.