Making Merry (A Firsts and Forever/Castaways Series Holiday Collection)

by Alexa Land

  That same aesthetic was repeated all over our house. The furniture was sleek and midcentury modern, which matched the architecture. But our home really came to life with several of my murals and with whimsical touches added by Shea, like the life-size Iron Man suit in a corner of our living room.

  The one thing our home lacked was Shea’s artwork, even though I was always encouraging him to frame some of his drawings and put them on display. My husband was attending Sutherlin, the same art college where I’d met Skye years ago, and he was a talented illustrator who dreamed of publishing his own comic books. But he just didn’t believe in himself. I wished I could change that, because he really was gifted.

  I stopped off in our kitchen and found the snack bag on the dark granite counter. Nearby was a stack of unopened mail from Saturday, a testament to how busy the weekend had been, since Shea normally got to it right away. Since there were several cards in the pile that should really be opened before Christmas, I slid the mail into the canvas tote beside a few bottles of water, a box of granola bars, fresh fruit, and some plain almonds. I could already hear Skye complaining about the healthiness of the snacks Shea had packed.

  My last stop was the garage. I loaded the bags into the back of our SUV, and then I swung a wrapped canvas onto the roof rack. It was my Christmas present to my dad and his boyfriend, and it was eight feet long, five feet wide, and the reason we were driving to southern California instead of flying.

  Shea joined me a few minutes later. He was dressed in faded jeans, a form-fitting T-shirt with a stylized graphic of Captain America’s shield on the front, and a navy blue hoodie embroidered with the Avengers logo. Classic Shea. After he helped me secure the painting to the roof rack, he asked, “Want to drive?” He was being polite, since he preferred to be behind the wheel.

  I climbed into the passenger seat as I said, “No thanks, but we can definitely switch if you get tired.” There was a zero percent chance of that happening.

  Christian: Chapter Three

  Our friends were waiting for us in front of their building, and I chuckled when I saw them. Apparently the text I’d sent when we reached Oakland had woken him, because Skye’s blue hair was sticking up all over the place, and he was wearing baggy, blue footie pajamas printed with clouds. He’d completed the look by sticking his fabric-covered feet into a pair of slip-on sandals.

  As if his outfit wasn’t enough, Skye was holding a metal cage shaped like a rocket, which contained an assortment of rodents. One was the offspring of a wild mouse that had hitched a ride from the junk yard several years ago. The rest were buddies he’d bought for it, including two more mice and a miniature hamster that probably wondered what the hell it was doing with Mickey and friends. Since they were all male and very cozy with each other, he called it his gay rodent commune.

  Skye’s husband Dare, meanwhile, seemed a bit frazzled. He’d actually managed to get dressed, more or less, in black leggings and a black, oversized sweater, and he held two leashes. Their black and white boxer, Benny, was at the end of one leash, panting happily and wagging his stumpy tail. At the end of the other was their cat Draco, who was being a total drama queen. The blond feline flung himself dramatically onto his back, then stood up, made sure his humans were watching, and did it all over again. Apparently the leash and its matching rhinestone-studded harness weren’t his favorite thing.

  Our friends’ luggage consisted of two backpacks, a bulky, wrapped package, and about a dozen mismatched canvas shopping bags. After we helped them cram everything in the back of the SUV, they climbed into the backseat. Dare pushed his dark hair out of his eyes and said, “Our alarm didn’t go off, so it’s a good thing you texted.”

  Their dog settled in between them and seemed delighted. Meanwhile, the cat climbed onto the back of the seat and glared at everyone. As Skye positioned the cage on his lap and fastened his seatbelt, I asked him, “Why don’t you just put the vermin in the back? It’s open to the rest of the SUV, so you could just look over the seat any time you wanted to check on them.”

  “They’re much happier on my lap,” he insisted, as he peered through the bars.

  All the rodents were hidden away in a pink, plastic igloo overflowing with shredded bedding material. I told him, “I sincerely doubt they have an opinion on the matter,” as I handed Skye and Dare cups of coffee and one of the bags from the organic drive-through. Benny sniffed the sack and actually seemed to sneer as he pulled his head back.

  As soon as Shea pulled away from the curb, the cat started to yowl, and the dog turned around and started yipping at it. I called over the racket, “I thought you said the cat’s been on other road trips.”

  “He has,” Skye said. “He complained on those, too.”

  *****

  Draco resigned himself to his fate after about an hour and went back to glaring. Once the cat shut up, the dog did too. That was a good thing, because it saved me the trouble of leaping from a moving vehicle to get away from the noise.

  The landscape along Highway Five was primarily farmland. I’d have thought there wouldn’t be a lot to say about that, but I found out I was wrong. I took my husband’s hand and relaxed as we listened to Skye’s running commentary about what he saw out the window. I actually thought it was cute, and I could tell his husband did too by the sweet expression on Dare’s face as he watched Skye’s enthusiastic reaction to pretty much everything.

  At about the two-hour mark, Skye announced, “The pea soup place is coming up! Can we stop? Please oh please?”

  I knew exactly what he meant, and so did Shea, who took the next exit. With its large windmill, it was equal parts roadside attraction, restaurant, and gift shop. It was also vintage and kitschy, which delighted my best friend. Once we parked, Dare carried the cat and led the dog to a nearby pet area, and Skye asked me to watch the rodents while he went inside. The fact that he was still in his pajamas didn’t mean a thing to him.

  Shea and I took turns babysitting the vermin and using the restroom. After a few minutes, our friends returned. Skye was carrying an enormous gift basket wrapped in cellophane and tied with a red bow. He also had a shopping bag slung over his arm, and as he tried to fit the basket in the back of the SUV, he told me, “I found this awesome present for your dad and Gianni in the gift shop. It’s so great that they’re letting us crash your family Christmas celebration, and I wanted to do something extra nice for them to say thank you. I also bought some proper road trip snacks, so we don’t have to gnaw on the twigs and dirt clods Shea packed for us.”

  My husband rolled his eyes and took a granola bar from his snack bag. While Dare retrieved a water bowl from the trunk and filled it for the dog and cat, Shea pulled out the stack of mail and leafed through it. He paused at a business-sized white envelope and tore it open. His expression went from amused to dead serious, and he handed me a letter and asked, “What is this?”

  I took it from him and looked it over, and then I exclaimed, “Oh wow, Shea, you took second place in the Engelbright Awards for Illustration!”

  Skye had been rifling through his shopping bag, and he looked up from his fistful of candy bars and said, “Congratulations! That’s a huge honor.”

  Shea’s voice was low when he muttered, “But I never entered a contest. Not this one or any other.”

  “Maybe one of your teachers sent in your work,” Skye guessed. “They were always encouraging me to enter national competitions like that one when I was a student at Sutherlin.”

  “Um…actually, it was me,” I admitted. “I sent in a copy of that illustration you did for the cover of your comic book, the one with the gay couple on their balcony, overlooking a cityscape. It was just so well done, and—”

  “Why would you do that?” Shea’s voice was still low, and a muscle worked in his jaw as he ground his teeth.

  “Because your work is amazing, and I knew you’d never enter something like this on your own.”

  “No, I wouldn’t. I wasn’t ready to show anyone.”


  I exclaimed, “But you’re so good, Shea! And sooner or later, you’ll need to put your work out there, since it’s your dream to publish your comics. I thought doing well in the contest would help convince you to take that leap.”

  “That wasn’t your call, Christian.”

  I’d figured he would probably be annoyed when he found out I’d gone behind his back and submitted his work, but he was absolutely livid. That was when I realized just how badly I’d fucked up, and I braced myself and waited for him to start yelling. But after a pause, he muttered, “Come on, let’s get back on the road.”

  I murmured, “Wait…that’s it?”

  Skye and I glanced at each other as we all got back in the SUV. The tension was palpable. It was pretty hard to piss off Shea, but I’d definitely accomplished it, and I felt awful. I’d entered him in the contest with the best intentions, because I believed in his talent and wanted him to believe in it, too. But I’d clearly overstepped. I saw that now.

  I just didn’t understand why he wasn’t telling me off. We both knew I had it coming. I really didn’t think it was because Skye and Dare were with us, either. Those two were family, and we all knew we could say anything in front of each other.

  As we got back on the highway, I stared out the window. Because it was December and that winter had been unusually dry, the fields were brown and lifeless.

  Skye and Dare were both uncharacteristically quiet in the backseat, and Shea concentrated on driving. I could tell by the set of his jaw that he was still angry, though.

  After a while, I blurted, “Why won’t you just yell at me?” Shea glanced at me, and I said, “It’s because you think I’m this frail little thing, isn’t it? Poor Christian, with his hands that barely work and the constant threat of another tumor hanging over him!”

  “Christian—”

  “That’s it, isn’t it? I’m too pathetic to yell at.”

  He asked, “Is that how you see yourself? Because it sure as hell isn’t how I see you.”

  “Then why won’t you just get mad at me? I fucked up! I shouldn’t have gone behind your back like that, and I know you’re pissed off. Just let it out!”

  The little muscle in his jaw worked overtime as he pulled into a turn-out on the side of the road. While the steady flow of traffic streaked past us on the highway, I got out of the car and walked to the edge of an embankment, overlooking a field so dry, even the weeds were dead. He got out too and came up behind me as he asked, “When have you ever known me to get angry and yell at you?”

  I turned to him and exclaimed, “You never had the chance! You found out about my tumor just weeks after we met, and you were so careful with me. You’re still careful, years later. Why can’t you just treat me like I’m normal?”

  “I do! This is just how I am, Christian. I don’t yell and make a fuss when I get upset, because I’m not that type of person. I thought you knew that by now.”

  I studied the ground, and after a long moment, he said, “I didn’t know you were worried about the tumor coming back. The doctor was confident that it was completely gone after the surgery and chemo.”

  “I worry about it anyway, even if it’s not rational. And so do you. Admit it. When we met, you’d pack away a large pizza in one sitting and wash it down with a two-liter soda. You didn’t just randomly decide one day to switch us from that to like, organic superfoods, or whatever the hell that stuff is that you’re bringing home now. It’s because you’re trying to keep me strong and healthy, in case I have to fight for my life again.”

  “Maybe I just thought it was time to grow up a little.”

  “Be honest, Shea. That fear is always in the background, isn’t it?”

  After a pause, he finally admitted, “Yeah. It is.”

  I nodded. “We never talk about it, but that fear affects both of us. It’s why I never really make long-term plans, and why I haven’t brought up the idea of adopting a child…” I hadn’t really meant to go there, not now anyway, but there it was.

  Shea’s voice was so gentle when he said, “Look at me, Christian.” When I met his gaze, he asked, “Is that something you want?”

  I tried to backpedal by mumbling, “It doesn’t matter, because you don’t.”

  “I know we talked about it a long time ago, and it wasn’t that I didn’t want kids. I just thought I shouldn’t be a parent, since I had such lousy role models and I was sure I’d screw it up. But a lot’s changed, and I see myself differently now. I see the job of parenting more clearly, too. When it comes down to it, kids just need to be loved unconditionally, and we’ve got plenty of that to go around.”

  I asked, “Why hadn’t you brought this up before now?”

  “I was going to, especially after watching you in action this holiday season. You went out of your way for kids you don’t even know, from the money and toys you donated to the fantastic murals you created. Their locations weren’t random, either. You painted them near schools and the children’s hospital, and in the roughest parts of town, where they’d be seen by kids who need some hope and beauty in their lives. That says everything about who you are, Christian. I know for a fact you’ll be an exceptional dad, and I think I finally believe in myself enough to want to take that leap with you.”

  “But what if the tumor comes back at some point? How could we possibly deal with that and raise a child at the same time?”

  “I get why you’d be worried, after living through something that terrifying,” he said. “But we can’t let fear stand in the way of something this important.”

  He had a point. I held out my hands and flexed my fingers. “What about this, though? I don’t know if I could take care of a child. What would I do if I needed to feed him and couldn’t even pick up a spoon?”

  “We’d find solutions.”

  After a few moments, I admitted, “I think I’m making excuses because I’m scared, Shea. I’m afraid of not being good enough as a parent, and I’m using my fears about my health to try to talk myself out of adopting a kid.”

  “I understand. But you’d be phenomenal, Christian.”

  “So would you. Any kid would be so damn lucky to call you Dad.”

  “Dad,” he repeated, as if he was trying the word on for size. His smile and the light in his eyes said it was a pretty great fit.

  He took my hand, and after another pause, Shea asked, “Why did you send my drawing to that contest, Christian? It’s really not like you to go behind my back.”

  I considered the question before saying, “Partly, I wanted to prove to you that you’re great at what you do and encourage you to take a chance and publish your comics. The Engelbrights receive over two thousand entries every year, and you came in second! That’s so good! But beyond that, I think I wanted to shake you up. Or maybe I wanted to shake us up. We’ve both been so cautious lately.”

  “I’ve always been cautious.”

  “That’s true.”

  He asked, “Did you want me to get mad at you?”

  “I don’t know. Not consciously, but now that I think about it, maybe that’s exactly what I wanted to happen.”

  “Because you figured I’d only yell at you if I thought you were strong enough to take it. But if I secretly believed you were frail and broken, I’d hold back.”

  I grinned a little. “It sounds stupid when you drag it out into the light and examine it like that.”

  “I get it, though.” Shea gathered me into his arms, and then he said, “This conversation certainly took some unexpected turns.”

  “It did!”

  “So, when we get back to San Francisco, I think we should start researching the adoption process.”

  “Wait, really?”

  Shea grinned at me. “I’m not saying we’re going to bring home a kid tomorrow. I just think we should look into it and begin to figure out what we’d need to do to make it happen.”

  “This is huge.”

  “It is, and we’re not going to rush it,” he said. “But it seems
like it’s something we’ve both wanted for a long time, and now that we’re finally admitting it to ourselves and each other, I think we should act on it.”

  “I think you’re right.” I smiled at him and said, “Looks like there could be some big changes ahead. It’s exciting.”

  “It really is.” After a moment, he grinned a little. “Back to that other subject. I know exactly what the Engelbrights are, and I’d thought about entering but figured there was no point. You proved me wrong.”

  “Congratulations on taking second place. That’s almost unheard of for a comic book artist because the judges tend to be pretty snooty. It’s huge not just for you, but for the entire genre.”

  “You still shouldn’t have done that without asking. In fact, you really should be punished.”

  Shea tossed me over his shoulder with little effort and slapped my ass, and I laughed and admitted, “Okay, that’s totally turning me on.” That made him laugh, too. He carried me back to the car and dropped me onto the passenger seat, and I told him, “It’s hot when you go all caveman on me.”

  From the backseat, Skye quipped, “The good news is, they seem to have worked it out. The bad news: I think they’re about to start doing it. Don’t look, kids!” He put his hands over the cat’s and dog’s eyes, and Benny panted happily while Draco hissed.

  Shea got back behind the wheel, and then he pulled me to him and kissed me passionately. It was forceful and confident, and it really wasn’t the way you’d kiss someone you thought was fragile or broken. Not by a long shot.

  He gave me a playful wink that promised a lot more, very soon. Then he checked his mirrors and pulled back onto the highway as he said, “This is going to be a great Christmas. We have a lot to celebrate.”

  Book Three: Zan

  Featuring Zan and Gianni from Belonging

  (The Firsts and Forever Series, Book Eight)