So This is Christmas: The Adrien English Mysteries

by Josh Lanyon

  Jake laughed and shook his head. He came up behind me and nuzzled beneath my ear. “Okay, baby. And God help them.”

  * * * * *

  Pa and Ma Riordan lived in Glendale, not too far from Jake’s old place.

  The house looked exactly as I’d imagined. Like June and Ward Cleaver still lived there. Maybe they did. Maybe that was the trouble.

  No white picket fence, but it was a traditional 1950s ranch-style sitting on a half-acre lot with mature oak trees. There was a basketball hoop in the driveway and a tree house with a rope ladder in the backyard. Colored Christmas lights were wound through the trees and along the eaves of the house. Cars crowded the driveway and I could hear music from inside.

  Jake didn’t say a word as we strolled up the brick walk. I wanted to reassure him, but I didn’t know if reassurance was called for—and I didn’t know if it would be welcome in this situation.

  So, yes, I was nervous. Something about the glimpse of that damned tree house had triggered a whole host of insecurities I’d figured I was over.

  Jake ran the bell.

  His dad answered the door. I knew him at once, because he looked like an older, heavier version of Jake—although it was hard to picture Jake going in for oversize cardigans and argyle socks.

  He looked slightly taken aback. “James?” He shoved open the screen door. “Come in. Come in.”

  “Happy New Year.” Jake handed over a bottle of Laphroaig. “This is Adrien. Adrien, this is my old man.”

  I said automatically, “Pleased to meet you, sir.”

  Even if Jake hadn’t informed me years ago that his old man was a cop, I’d have known it instantly. He gave me a searching look from beneath startlingly black brows, shook hands, and instructed me to call him “James Senior.”

  Which, after all, is an improvement over Officer.

  The house smelled of baking and cinnamon candles. We were ushered inside and down the long hallway lined with photos of Riordans old and new. Somehow my eye zeroed right onto Jake and Kate’s wedding photo. Kate stared at me. I blinked first.

  “Look who’s here,” Jake’s dad called in warning, and a slim woman came bustling around the corner.

  Jake’s mom was a few years older than Lisa. Her hair was styled in a silver bob recalling TV moms of an earlier generation. Her face was youthful and still pretty. She wore what I think used to be called ski slacks and one of those deliberately ugly Christmas sweaters. On her, retro was kind of cute.

  She hugged me briefly, told me to call her Janie, and ushered us into the middle of what appeared to be a cop convention in the living room.

  Yeah, they were all cops. Clearly. In fact, I wouldn’t have sworn that Jake’s mom wasn’t a retired desk sergeant. Father, brothers, wives, girlfriends… There were a couple of toddlers playing with toy police cars in front of the television.

  I won’t say that everyone stopped talking when we entered the room, but…yeah, for a couple of seconds everyone stopped talking. Janie began to make the introductions, and people put aside their drinks and got to their feet.

  Neal, the middle brother, was a police detective with Glendale PD. He took after Janie’s side of the family. Shorter, slimmer, browner. He was married to Brenna, who looked so much like Kate my heart skipped a couple of beats. Brenna was also a detective with Glendale PD. The two toddlers, Rory and Cory, belonged to them.

  A great deal of explanation seemed to be going into the introductions, and I think it was because they had no idea what to say to us. Or certainly not to me. It was pretty obvious no one had thought we’d show up.

  “Very nice to meet you,” I said, shaking hands with Neal and Brenna and Dusty. Dusty was Danny’s girlfriend. She had blue eyes, black hair, and adorable freckles. She worked Metro Traffic.

  Danny, Jake’s youngest brother, looked like a shorter, squarer version of Jake. He had not yet made detective at Pasadena PD, but was naturally working toward that ultimate life’s goal. One thing Jake had told me was that Danny was having a particularly tough time with Jake’s revelation, and his handshake was hard and hasty. He did not wipe his fingers afterwards, but I think it went through his mind.

  In fairness, his palm was moist. I think he was genuinely nervous.

  “Danny.” Jake’s hand rested lightly on my back.

  “James.” Danny did not meet his eyes.

  Janie came to the rescue asking us about our Christmas.

  It occurred to me that I had made little to no effort to learn anything about Jake’s family. My relationship with him had existed outside the boundaries of his normal life for so long that even once we were officially a couple I had stuck to the old parameters. So in that sense, we were all starting from go. My only advantage was I’d known they existed.

  They were a boisterous bunch—everyone, including the kids, talked at the same time. And talked loudly. But then, they were well-lubricated by the time we’d shown up.

  The subject of Jake’s trip to London—the idea of Jake traveling to foreign lands—was a source of great interest and greater amusement.

  Listening to them, I realized how absolutely alien my own family must seem to Jake—and what a really patient guy he could be.

  “What would you like to drink, Adrien?” Janie touched my arm tentatively.

  “Anything really. Beer. Wine. Whatever you have.” I smiled at her, and she blinked.

  “You know, you look so much like that actor. I forget his name now.”

  “Montgomery Clift?”

  “Who? Oh no. No. Matt Somebody. He used to play a jewel thief, I think.”

  “I’ll get him a drink, Mom,” Brenna said, joining us. She gave me a cool smile and nodded for me to follow her into the kitchen.

  Having had sisters for a while, I knew what that look meant. I braced for trouble.

  Breanna went straight to the fridge, which was papered in childish colorings. I thought some of the crayon drawings looked like early attempts at mug shots, but maybe I was wrong.

  “What would you like?” Breanna was brisk. “Beer? We have everything.”

  Not the fixings for Black Orchids, I bet. I said, “Maybe a wine cooler?”

  “I can do you a wine spritzer.”

  “Sure.”

  She scooped a clear plastic cup into a giant bag of ice in the sink and said, “Kate’s more than my sister-in-law. She’s my best friend.”

  Fair enough.

  I said, “This is hard for everybody.”

  “Yes. It is.”

  “I’ll try not to make it harder.”

  She splashed some ginger ale and wine into the cup and handed it to me. Her green gaze held mine steadily. “It’s just…going to take some of us longer than others.”

  I nodded.

  Her smile was more of a grimace. She walked out of the kitchen. I sipped my drink, examined the drawings on the fridge, and then followed her out. Jake was watching for me, and I smiled.

  He looked relieved. I came to stand beside him while he continued to argue good-naturedly with Neal about something only a cop or an ex-cop would care about. I liked Neal, though. He made eye contact, and he tried to address comments my way now and then.

  The TV was on with the sound muted. New Year’s Eve Live with Anderson Cooper and Special Co-Host Kathy Griffin silently counted down from Times Square. Meanwhile a stereo system was playing an endless loop of Peggy Lee, mostly holiday hits, but every now and then “Is That All There Is?” popped up.

  Each time, Jake would look at me and we’d smile at each other.

  Janie told me all about Cory and Rory, which took longer than one might imagine, considering they were only four years old. I told her my sister was expecting and we were all pretty excited, which was certainly true. Although agitated might have been more accurate.

  I ate Chex Mix and chicken wings and Swedish meatballs and onion dip and celery sticks filled with blue-cheese spread. I had two ginger ale wine spritzers, and then I settled down to drinking straight ginger ale,
having offered to be the designated driver that night. I figured Jake was going to need the numbing effect of alcohol more than me, but he was not drinking much as far as I could tell.

  “What is it you do?” Dusty asked me when we happened to meet over the dips and veggies.

  “I own a bookstore.”

  “I didn’t think Jake liked to read that much.”

  So many responses available to me. I settled for, “Well. You know.”

  They did not, of course. It was quite obvious they had no clue.

  Which had probably been a lot of the problem. The other problem was they had known and loved Kate, and even if I’d been another woman, I would not have been welcome. They were trying. I could see that. For Jake’s sake they were going to make the effort.

  And I would do the same.

  “You like Peggy Lee?” Jake’s dad asked in a challenging tone when he found me studying the photos in the entry hall.

  “I do, actually.”

  He looked nonplussed. “What songs do you like?”

  “For starters, I like this one. ‘My Dear Acquaintance.’”

  “What do you know,”—he called over his shoulder—“someone else in this house has good taste!”

  There were immediate cheers and boos from the living room, and James Senior chuckled, looking pleased with himself.

  I’ve had better times at New Year’s Eve parties. I won’t argue that. It was a long-ass evening, and we’d had a long-ass couple of days preceding it, but as the evening stretched on and on and Anderson Cooper and Kathy Griffin—who Jake’s mom kept calling Kathy Lee—looked colder and more strained, Jake’s family began to defrost. Began to warm up. And as Jake stopped looking so pinched and on guard, my heart began to warm too.

  Maybe it was the booze. They could drink, that was for sure. Even Janie could put it away. Whatever it was, round about eleven thirty, the brothers started slapping Jake on the back during the storytelling, and the sister-in-law and aspiring sister-in-law stopped visibly wincing every time they caught my eye.

  By the time the ball dropped—Pacific Coast Time replay—and we all gathered around to sing “Auld Lang Syne,” I felt like maybe, with enough time and effort from both sides, maybe it really would be okay.

  When the song ended and everyone turned to kiss their spouse, Jake rested his hand against my face. His own face was flushed and his eyes were bright. He looked self-conscious in a way he had not looked all evening. I opened my mouth to say—I have no idea what. Hey, don’t worry about it.

  Old habits die hard.

  But he cut me off with a kiss, his mouth firm, almost gentle on my own.

  Come to think of it, it was the best New Year’s Eve party ever.

  * * * * *

  “I mean, if you can put up with my family,” I said, continuing our conversation from the drive home. I spat toothpaste into the sink and turned on the taps.

  Jake replied, but I couldn’t hear over the rush of water.

  “What?”

  My gaze fell on Tomkins, who was delicately perched on the rim of the toilet bowl. “If you do, I’m flushing you down,” I informed him. “You’re not licking me with toilet water tongue.”

  “I hope you’re talking to the cat,” Jake called.

  I rinsed, used the towel, and poked my head out of the bathroom. “What?”

  “My mother said you have very nice manners.”

  “I do.”

  “Yes. You do.”

  I stepped over Scout, who was observing events unfold in the bathroom like he was watching a play, and crossed the room to the bed. “And I’ll keep having nice manners. Whatever we have to do to make this work.”

  Hopefully that didn’t sound too inspirational posterish. Teamwork! Change! Endurance! Jake was watching me attentively. Very attentively for someone not already between the sheets.

  He had discarded his jacket, loosened his tie, and removed his shoes, but that seemed to be as far as the disrobing had gone.

  I said, “It’s a great note to start the year on, I think. The fact that they invited us. Me, I mean. They wanted you there. That was obvious.”

  “Thank you for tonight.”

  “You don’t have to thank me. I mean it. Your family is my family.”

  Unless they hurt him again, in which case next holiday season I’d be poisoning the gift baskets.

  He was still giving me that look. I glanced around uncertainly—and did a double take. He had the gas fireplace blazing and a bottle of champagne uncorked and ready to go on the small table. Two flute glasses stood at the ready.

  Like the night hadn’t been long enough for him?

  “Oh, you found the champagne glasses. Great! Now if we can just find the flannel sheets…”

  Jake drew a deep breath. “You know the other night when you were talking about being a better boyfriend?”

  “Okay,” I said quickly. “I haven’t signed the dog up for obedience classes yet, but I did talk to Natalie about not working every Sunday. I’ll take three Sundays a month off so that she can have a Sunday too. And we’re starting interviews next week.”

  He said quietly, seriously, as if I hadn’t spoken, “Boyfriends don’t come any better than you.”

  “Oh. Well…” I grinned. “Thanks. Of course you haven’t really had many boyfriends to compare. Me and that homicidal maniac you used to go out with.”

  He said—and he was not smiling, not seeing the humor—“That homicidal maniac was never my boyfriend.”

  “Okay. Sorry.”

  The clock downstairs struck two. We listened to the silvery chime die away. It sounded…portentous. Not that two was an especially significant number.

  Well, come to think of it, yes. Two was a significant number. Especially for us.

  I said, “It’s the first day of the first New Year we’ve spent together. Shall we drink to it?”

  “Yes. first…” Jake’s voice got that funny, slightly winded sound to it again. “I have one last Christmas present for you.”

  “Oh? Really? You don’t want to save it until next year?”

  “No.” He looked momentarily confused. “I don’t.”

  “Okay.” I can’t pretend that I wasn’t starting to feel anxious at the strange way he was acting. Even the dog seemed to sense something was up, turning his head this way and that, like he couldn’t quite catch the frequency. Tomkins stuck his head out of the bathroom, whiskers twitching.

  Jake inclined his head toward the table. I followed his gaze and noticed there was a small white-wrapped box tied with a gold silk bow next to the ice bucket.

  My heart gave a stutter as it hadn’t done in six months.

  “This is it? This is for me?” Now my voice sounded funny.

  Jake nodded.

  I picked up the box and gave the ribbon a tug; it fell away with a silky whisper.

  Jake said suddenly, as though he couldn’t take the suspense, “I brought it with us to London, but it didn’t seem like the right time. I hope this is.”

  I unpeeled the paper and studied the small blue velvet box. I looked at him and swallowed.

  “Jake.”

  He said, and his voice cracked ever so slightly, “I got this wrong the last time. I’m sorry. For that. And for—”

  I said, “You think I don’t know? You think there’s some part of me that hasn’t forgiven you?”

  “No. But I understand if you’re not ready yet to take a chance on…this.”

  “Jake. Come on.” I opened the box and saw the gold, milgrain-edged band before it dissolved in the sudden, hot blur in my eyes.

  I wiped my eyes, looked at him. In the soft light his gaze was shiny and solemn, his face a little pale.

  “Will you marry me, Adrien-with-an-e?”

  I closed my fingers around the loosened loop of his tie, drawing him slowly, inexorably in. Before our lips met, I whispered, “Baby, I thought you’d never ask.”

  Author Notes

  Happy Holidays!

&
nbsp; It’s a lovely thing to know that I’ve created characters that readers are so very fond of. And it’s been a genuine pleasure to revisit A&J and see where they are—and where they’re headed.

  Thank you to Keren Reed for spending way too much of her holiday working on this.

  I hope you’ve enjoyed this long-promised holiday novella. And now… Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night!

  About the Author

  Bestselling author of over sixty titles of classic Male/Male fiction featuring twisty mystery, kickass adventure, and unapologetic man-on-man romance, JOSH LANYON has been called “arguably the single most influential voice in m/m romance today.”

  Today Josh’s work has been translated into nine languages. The FBI thriller Fair Game was the first Male/Male title to be published by Harlequin Mondadori, the largest romance publisher in Italy. The Adrien English series was awarded the All Time Favorite Couple by the Goodreads M/M Romance Group. Josh is an Eppie Award winner, a four-time Lambda Literary Award finalist (twice for Gay Mystery), and the first ever recipient of the Goodreads All Time Favorite M/M Author award.

  Josh is married and lives in Southern California.

  Find other Josh Lanyon titles at www.joshlanyon.com

  Follow Josh on Twitter, Facebook, and Goodreads.

  If you enjoyed this story, check out the following titles, also by Josh Lanyon:

  Novels

  The ADRIEN ENGLISH Mysteries

  Fatal Shadows

  A Dangerous Thing

  The Hell You Say

  Death of a Pirate King

  The Dark Tide

  Stranger Things Have Happened: A Write Your Own Damn Novel

  The HOLMES & MORIARITY Mysteries

  Somebody Killed His Editor

  All She Wrote

  The Boy with the Painful Tattoo

  The ALL’S FAIR Trilogy

  Fair Game

  Fair Play

  The ART OF MURDER Trilogy