by V. L. Locey
I ran my fingers over the rich, buttery leather. “Gorge, who makes your belts and wallets? That Gorge?”
“Yes, that’s the man. You’re a professional now, working in an office building and meeting with clients. You cannot continue carrying your important papers in an Iron Man rucksack.”
“Iron Man is rich, too,” Liam interjected as he flew his new Quinjet over our heads. “And he’s got robot suits that shoot rockets. And he’s smart and billionaire thrillapiss.”
“Philanthropist,” I corrected gently.
“What’s a philatoepiss?” the lad asked as he made another high-speed lap around the circle.
“That means he’s generous to those who are less fortunate than he is, which is something to think about now that you’ve gotten a bunch of new toys. Perhaps when you get home, you could go through your toybox and give the toys you don’t play with anymore to children who aren’t as lucky as you.”
His green eyes darted to Bryn. My husband nodded in confirmation.
“I think Cap would do that with his toys,” Liam said.
“I’m sure he would,” I hurried to agree. The last time I had brooked donating his older toys, the boy had melted down like a candle on a hot griddle. Liam nodded, revved up the Quinjet and flew off into the next room, giving us a moment of peace and quiet. “Well, that was an unexpected reply. This is beautiful, Bryn, thank you so much.”
“You needed it to carry that new day planner and all those pens.” He patted my thigh softly.
“Oh, yes! And my lunch, and my laptop. It’s just mouthwatering.” I stoked the case like one would a beloved cat.
“Look inside,” he whispered, his hand giving my leg a squeeze. “No need to appear so suspicious, nothing inside will leap out or snap shut on your fingers.”
“What are you up to?” I asked warily, unzipping the case, then slipping my hand inside. The soft lining brushed over the backs of my fingers. My fingertips grazed an envelope and I lofted it out into the blinking glow of the tree lights. I threw an arched brow his way, then slid my finger under the flap. Having no clue what the paper folded so carefully said, I laid the envelope down and unfolded the handwritten note from my husband.
“I apologize for not having the actual blue folder from the travel agent that you so like to look at and touch, but the travel agent was only able to email me the itinerary.”
My eyes darted over the printout, then lifted to Bryn. “Germany? We’re doing Germany over the summer for our first anniversary?!”
He nodded, his dark eyes rich and warm like melted chocolate. “If you’re behind the idea. If you’d rather go somewhere else—”
I threw my arms around him and kissed him four hundred and seventeen times, all while gushing about Germany, his parents who I’d only met at our wedding, and schnitzel.
“What did Uncle Bryn get you Uncle Mike?” Liam asked as he clambered over the back of the sofa, fancy hero jet in one hand and a massive glass of chocolate milk in the other. The milk sloshed out of his glass, ran over his fingers, and speckled the sofa. Bryn’s brown eyes widened, but he didn’t speak harshly to the lad, as some neat-nicks would. He simply asked him to pass the glass to me until he was seated. Thank goodness for rug and upholstery cleaners. Kids and expensive furniture and carpeting didn’t tend to cohabitate well.
“Tickets to Germany,” I beamed. Liam scowled at us.
“You should not go there; Red Skull is hiding there. He’s a bad man!”
“I’m sure Red Skull has moved on. The people of Germany are lovely, as is the country. Remember, you met Bryn’s parents at our wedding?” The lad nodded. “And you liked them, right?”
“They gave me cookies and funny German money.”
“That’s right, they did. So I’m sure we’ll be perfectly fine in Germany.”
“I don’t like Red Skull. His soul isn’t special for Christmas Day like ours is because he’s got no good spirit in his heart. Cap says Red Skull is so bad that the only things Santa brings to him is a lump of coal and a sock with a thorn in it. Can I has my milk please?”
He held out his hands, so I carefully passed the glass back. Lord knows what the kitchen looked like after his drink prep. The milk was a touch on the dark, dark, dark, dark, dark brown side. Probably half the jug of chocolate syrup had been used.
“A sock with a thorn?” Bryn asked, sitting back to enjoy the story that was about to rush out of Liam.
“Yes, socks get thorns in them and they poke your feet. So, bad people gets coal because I don’t know why or what coal is, but they get that and a thorn sock or sometimes a dog turd.” He sipped loudly then sighed as if he’d been parched. “Jimmy Powers says his big brother got a dog turd in a box.”
“I highly doubt that, Liam,” Bryn chuckled as I hugged my attaché case and my itinerary for Germany close to my breast. Bryn spoiled me terribly. As he did Liam and Kelly. He was just a giving man. I loved him so damn much. “Perhaps it was a gag joke.”
“It would make me gag,” I tossed out, kissed my nephew’s wild hair, then forced myself to open the other presents I’d set aside for myself. Clothes, aftershave, a new picture of Liam—his first real school picture—and a box of Turtles to snack on.
Liam climbed over Bryn when he was done with his milk and pulled out another new toy. I rose from the couch, placed my trip announcement and my attaché aside, and gave Bryn a wink. That was the signal and so off my hubby went to fetch the bike. I gave the laptop a spin to find my sister sound asleep, her phone resting on her cheek. I had a lovely view of the inside of her nostril. I rang her a few times but only got a loud snorty cough in reply, so I opted to leave the call open and record the big moment. Liam had just asked me to open his new Legos when Bryn appeared in the doorway. I leaned forward, hands on my knees, and watched his face light up.
“It’s from Santa,” I managed to say, before the boy shrieked so loudly he probably woke the neighbors on the first floor. I prayed the walls were as thick as the building super boasted they were.
“It’s a bike! It’s a bike!” Liam shouted, dancing and pumping the air with his fist.
“What? What? What happened?” Kelly shouted, so I lifted the laptop and pointed the camera in the direction of the happy dance. Bryn placed the bike to the hardwood floor. Liam climbed on, his face split in half with a joyous grin.
“I want to ride it!” Liam began pedaling. Bryn grabbed the handlebars before he could take off.
“Big boy’s bikes are not ridden inside. They’re ridden outside,” Bryn reminded the boy. We’d had this discussion before, when he’d asked for a bike for Labor Day, Halloween, and Thanksgiving. “When you were little and had a little bike to scoot around on was different. Big bikes like this one, with training wheels, will mark up the floor and harm the furniture.” Bryn dropped down to look the boy right in his excited emerald eyes. “You understand, yes?”
“Yes, yes! Can we ride outside? Now!”
I glanced at my phone. “Buddy, it’s not six in the morning yet. It’s still dark out, and I think it might have snowed.” A slight upending of his life as he knew it took place, and he grew cranky. “Why don’t we eat and tidy up the living room? Then, we’ll see how much snow there is and if we can sweep the path in the community garden,” I offered to hopefully cut off the temper flare-up I was sensing.
That seemed to stall the impending upset, and so the Herculean clean-up of the living room began. I left Bryn to tidying up and I took the laptop into the kitchen to chat with Kelly while I stirred up some scrambled eggs with bacon bits. Liam had rolled his bike to the front door with great care and was now sitting on it pretending to be taking part in the Tour de France.
“I think he liked it,” I said as I tucked the Dell safely under the cupboard. I glanced at the screen and my sister was crying big old silent tears. “Hey, whoa, hey, what’s wrong?”
“I should be there with him when he gets his first big boy bike.” She wailed. Adam sat up beside her, popping up li
ke a piece of toast in an overexuberant toaster. His hair was tangled, his face covered with pillow creases, and his eyes unfocused. He gave me a look of utter confusion.
“Not here for the first bike,” I told him.
“Shit, baby, no, don’t cry,” he said and Kelly rolled into him, sniffling and moaning about water weight and old people and bikes. I glanced around, unsure of what I should do. There was really nothing for me to do, and it looked like Adam had what I should be doing—comforting my baby sister—well in hand. How dare he be such a great sort? Didn’t he know patting her back when she was upset was my job?! Toe stepping good guy. Pfft.
“Why don’t I go feed Liam? Hey, call me when things are sunnier, okay?” I asked, got a nod from Adam and a gasping cough from my sister. I eased out of the video call, exhaled long and hard, and went off to find a frying pan. I might not be able to console my sister, but I could feed my guys.
Chapter Four
Bryn
It was cold. So damn cold. Despite all my years of calling Pittsburgh home, the brutal cold snaps that settled over the city from time to time still astounded me. Yet, despite the four degree thermometer reading and light wind, here we were, outside, cheeks red and eyes watering, to help Liam ride his bike. I’d volunteered to sweep the four or so inches of fluffy snow away from the walkways that circled our tiny garden area. It was a small but beautiful space just for the residents of our condominium to enjoy. During the summer, it was lovely. The trees were leafed out, the flowers in the beds blooming, the birds sang, the bees buzzed, and a man could rest on one of the wrought-iron benches with a book and a glass of lemonade. Today, there were no flowers, birds, bees, or glasses of lemonade. Any kind of liquid would have frozen within minutes. Yet, Liam and Michael seemed to be oblivious to the wind chill.
The boy was pedaling around the circular route. Michael was jogging along behind him, arms stretched out in front of him should the boy teeter over, shouting encouragements to his nephew. I doubted the bike would tumble over, given it had training wheels, but my husband was a worrier. I loved that about him. That, and his innate, nurturing heart. Resting under a maple tree that had long ago shed its leaves, broom in hand, I smiled at the moment. It stirred something profound in me, something that I’d shelved years ago. Sure, I’d dust it off from time to time, study it as one would a tome of ancient texts, and return it to its home to molder a bit longer. I was going to be thirty-four in a month. Perhaps it was time to give it some serious thought.
“Oh, my…sides…need air…fat uncle…dying,” Michael panted as he stumbled along in Liam’s wake. I chuckled at the man I loved and decided to give them another pass or two, then call it off. Liam’s cheeks were scarlet now and Michael was exhausted.
“Perhaps we should go back inside now?” I called as the twosome rode closer. “I can make some hot chocolate…”
Liam skidded to a wobbly halt a few feet from where I stood. Michael fumbled around the boy and fell into my arms.
“Thank you…thank you…thank you,” he huffed, his breath warm and moist on my neck. I hugged him close, kissed his icy nose, and then rounded the winded pair up and led them inside. The warmth of the foyer was lovely.
“After we make hot chocolate, we should build a snowperson,” Liam announced as we waited for the elevator. I handed the boy my handkerchief so he could wipe his runny nose.
“We can do that after lunch. Maybe it will warm up,” I offered and got a head bob from Michael, who was still huffing and puffing. “Perhaps we can dig through our old clothing for the snowman.”
“I want to make a snowperson who hasn’t picked his or her gender yet, Uncle Bryn, and send the picture to Peter. Peter is in my class and is transgender. He picked his name. Peter likes Thor best, even better than Captain America. We play on the monkey bars. Can we invite Peter over to play the new video games I got from Santa? Why is the elevator taking so long? Did you see me pedaling? My legs feel like kooky foam. Did you have bikes when you were little, Uncle Bryn? The elevator is here! Hot chocolate!”
Riding up with the jabber box, it struck me yet again how marvelous children are. They accept everyone openly and with trust. It’s only after adults begin to cram outdated ideas into their glorious loving minds do we witness the birth of hate and mistrust.
We got lucky after the hot chocolate and Liam dozed off watching a movie with Michael. The temperature climbed up to ten, and so, we called off making a snowperson, which made Liam sulky even after his nap. By the time dinnertime arrived, he’d forgotten his snit and dove into the ham, mashed potatoes, corn, and tube rolls because everything a five-year-old likes comes out of a tube or a box, it seems.
We played board games and video games, built a star ship out of Legos, called Kelly and Adam, and then finally carried the exhausted young man to his bedroom. While Michael helped with the bath, I loaded the dishwasher, wiped off the counters, and tidied up the living room. Dimming the lamps, I stood in the silence, watching the multi-colored lights on the tree blinking and grinning at the steady patter of dialog between Liam and Michael. I made my way down the hall, pausing in the open doorway of the bathroom, and smiled at my husband when he glanced back over his shoulder.
“He never gets all the shampoo rinsed out,” Michael explained as he dumped another plastic cup full of warm water over Liam’s head. The boy laughed and sputtered. “Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“No, I’m just wondering which book we’re going to read tonight.”
“A Bear Called Paddington!” Liam exclaimed before dunking a plastic troll into the soapy water hugging his bare belly and back.
“Paddington Bear it is.” I slipped away from the bathroom and entered Liam’s room, giving the Marvel posters a quick glance. Cap was waiting on the twin bed, his stuffed arms and legs tossed out at odd angles. I pulled back the covers, tucked Cap in where Liam would rest, then went to the big bookshelf to locate the night’s read. The boy owned hundreds of books, gifts from myself and Michael, as we wanted to instill a love of reading, if at all possible. Liam’s own reading skills were coming along wonderfully. He’d picked up writing and reading quickly, but still liked to be read to at bedtime.
I sat at the foot of the bed, child’s book in hand, waiting and listening to the chitter-chat and splashing of water. Ten minutes later, Liam arrived, freshly scrubbed and in clean star-spangled pajamas. He dove into the bed, grabbed up his Cap doll, and wiggled into the covers. I wiggled around a bit, pulled the comforter up under his chin, and smiled down at the boy.
“Here I am! Just had to hang up the towel and run a quick mop,” Michael announced, hustling into the room. He sat down on the other side of the bed, by Liam’s feet, and as had become custom, Michael and I stretched out on either side of Liam. My ass hung off the side of the bed, and I had to constantly maintain my balance, but there we lay, just the same. Sometime right after the friendly bear from darkest Peru was discovered at Paddington Station, I fell asleep, head resting on my bicep.
I came awake shortly afterward when I moved to my side and nearly fell to the floor. With a jerk and a soft gasp, I rolled to my feet. Michael startled awake as well, chuckled, and slowly got to his feet.
“Long day for all of us,” I whispered, dimming the light beside the sleeping boy, then pressing a kiss to his blond hair. Michael nodded, kissed the lad goodnight, and we crept from the room on silent feet.
“I’d love a snack,” Michael announced as we got ready for bed. I pulled off my slacks and crawled under the covers in my briefs. Michael shimmied closer, his warm body cozying up to mine as we settled in. “If I asked really nicely would you go grab me a dinner roll with some marmalade?”
“Let me hear you ask nicely.”
“Pretty please with sugar and a blow job on top.”
I groaned at the pun. Hmm, I did enjoy his mouth on my cock. “I’ll get us both one, but I’d like to talk before we eat.” I tossed aside the covers and hurried to the kitchen. When I returned to our bedroom
with two warm rolls slathered with butter and marmalade, Michael was sitting up in bed looking quite worried. “Your roll, my love.”
He took one of two plates from me, placed it on his lap, and then stared openly at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, nothing is wrong. I just wish to talk about something.” I sat down, back to the pillows piled up by the headboard, and crossed my legs at the ankle. Balancing the roll on my thigh, I peeked to the right. Michael was still tense. “Please, no worries, it’s just that…well,” I picked at my roll, flicking a small crumb off to the plate. “Having Liam here for so long, and over the holiday, it has made me think that perhaps we should discuss having a child of our own more seriously.”
“I am…what?” He lowered his roll from his mouth to gape at me. “Okay, wow, this is serious.”
“Mm-hmm, it is.” I fingered my roll a bit, touching the sweet orange jam then licking it off my finger, trying to get my thoughts aligned. “I know that you’re obviously an incredible caretaker and lover of children. And I, too, like children, a great deal, more now that I’ve been spending so much time with Liam. This holiday has been…well, it’s been the most blessed and enjoyable Christmas I’ve ever had, and that’s due to you and Liam sharing it with me. I’d like to think on possibly having our own child more deeply. Would we adopt or use a surrogate? Would we wish to move before we have a child so we could have a proper yard? What kind of daycare would be the most suited to our unique needs? Oh, and schooling! Where would we send our son or daughter? There are numerous quality schools, both public and private here in Pittsburgh and—”
“Okay, just, wow. I love that you’re so excited about discussing this in depth, because you know I adore kids and would love to have a couple, but this is just so…unexpected. I thought you were happy with things as they are, just you and me being newlyweds.”
“I am, I am incredibly happy. I adore you. You’re my whole world, Michael.”
