Alex
Every year, when I come home for the holidays to spend time with my family, I end up feeling like shit. I can only tolerate my parents for so long before my mother has too many martinis and starts trying to set me up on dates, or before Savannah and Austen start their whisper arguments that they think no one notices.
Usually, I put in my hours on Christmas morning at my parents’ and peace the fuck out by the afternoon so I can spend time with Britt and the girls. I would usually leave before New Years, because Ashbourne is boring as fuck, and end up drunk in my condo while waiting for someone who rarely showed up whenIwanted him to. But this year’s different.
My pain-in-the-ass parents have decided in the wake of the crisis known as my brother’s divorce, that they aregoing to be in sunny Italy, and I wasn’t about to protest. It’s kind of a relief, honestly. So I did something I have never done before, because with them gone, I felt like it was the right thing to do.
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” I ask as I run a hand through my hair.
Jordan stares at me over his French toast bake, his hair messy from our Christmas morning fuck. We hadn’t talked about getting each other anything, but I wasn’t about to let one of my favorite past times go to waste. Part of me expected him to bitch about all the stuff I bought him, and maybe I sort of did it to get him all bitchy and riled up, so I’d pay for it later. But he wasn’t as mad as I thought he’d be, so clearly I need to up the budget next time.
Next time.The thought lands. I smile, thinking aboutthe next time.Whenever that is.
“Austen will be there, so it’s not that weird,” he says, but I see the panic in his eyes.
“And Britt and… the kids.” I swallow nervously.
He’s never been Brittany’s biggest fan. I don’t know how much he knows about our current relationship other than we have one. I haven’t talked about it, knowing how heusedto feel. But with Bentley soaking up most of her energy these days, and the fact she’s hosted me for every holiday since she and Christian bought their house, it felt like the right thing to do. But I’d belying if I said I wasn’t nervous. It’s not like anyone knows aboutus.It’s just Christmas dinner at my house. Withfriends.It’s not a launch or anything, but it’s the first time all the most important people in my life will be in the same fucking room, so it’s a little nerve-wrecking.
And maybe I’m a little curious to see how he’ll react to the girls. I keep thinking about that night, the one when I was convinced he’dneverpick me. When he openly admitted he wanted to get married and have kids… withher.I know now it wasn’t true, but I don’t think it was a lie either. Not with the way he looked at me when he answered her. Still, it’s not a conversation we’ve had.
Us. The future.
I don’t want to rush things, and I know I can be impatient, so I just… don’t ask. I don’t bring it up, even though I want to.
Things have been good with us. Really good, despite the fact no one knows we’re together. I wish I could tell everyone. I wish I could scream from the top of my lungs that this man fucking loves me, but I need to be patient. Patience is not my strongest virtue, but I’ve waited this long, thinking I’d never havethis. I wasn’t sure he wouldn’t clam up and find some way to stay home tonight.
His eyebrows furrow, and before he can argue, I say, “Kearstin said she’d drop by.”
He stabs a thick piece of French toast and twists his lips as he looks up at me. The room looks brighter because of all the snow outside, and the red cabinets shine perfectly against the sight.
“Yeah, it’s fine,” he says gruffly, but I hear the nervousness in his voice. It echoes my own.
“Okay,” I say as I sit next to him on his too-soft couch. He leans back into the cushions, his plate in his hand. The sports announcers drone on and on about a bunch of stuff I have no clue about because I’m too busy watching him.
“I should head out soon,” I say, contemplating canceling this whole fucking dinner just so I can stay here with him, surrounded by wrapping paper and rolling hills of snow.
Winter looks amazing at his place. Like something straight out of a Hallmark movie.
“Turkey ain’t going to cook itself,” I say with a smirk.
I leave an hour later than I wanted to, fully because I was too comfortable on the couch cuddling myboyfriend.
We haven’t talked about labels, but he’s still here. He’s staying at my house three nights a week and he’s told me a handful of times how much he loves me—usually in the middle of sex, but I’m not complaining because it’s the best praise ever—so I tell myself it’s okay. He’s my boyfriend, whether he says it or not.
Austen is the first to show up with a bottle of wine, looking awkward as hell, but I’m more than glad to see him. Britt and the kids arrive next, like a tornado. Christian camps out on my couch and immediately puts the game on. Jordan arrives seconds after Britt, and is walking through the door just as I’m picking up Lucy for a hug. I meet his gaze, and for a moment, time and my heart stop. I’ve never wanted to kiss him so badly, but I know I can’t. Not here, not like this. Not yet.
Maybe someday. He looks from me to the wriggling four -year-old in my arms.
“Who are you?” Sarah blurts, and I can’t help but laugh. Lucy turns, eyeing him up like prey. I swear she can smell fear, and he looks terrified.
“This is Jordan; he’s afriend.” I say the word delicately. “Uncle Alex’svery goodfriend. Jordan, this is Lucifer. She can smell fear—” Lucy giggles in my arms.
“That’s not my name!”
I ignore her as she glares at me.
“This is Sarah.” I nod to Sarah, who is hiding behind my legs. I whisper loudly, “My number one bestie.”
