“It’s a fair exchange,” Aaron replies without so much as a glance in my direction. He might be better at schooling his facialexpressions, but I know he’s thinking the same thing. “Oliver’s teaching me how to crochet. I’m about halfway through a big project. Would you like to see?”
My mom nods, and he whips out his phone, pulling up a picture of his most recent progress.
“Aaron, this is incredible work. I love all the strawberries.” She admires the photo, zooming in and out to look at different sections. “Why don’t you ever make something like this instead of all those ridiculous toys?”
And we’re back to me. “They aren’t ridiculous.”
“There’s some sort of weird unicorn yeti sitting in my living room right now.”
Oh yeah. That one got out of hand. It started as a unicorn, but I ran out of the yarn I was using and was too lazy to go to the store, so it morphed into a yeti toward the end. Personally, I think it’s cute as fuck.
“Well, I haven’t seen that one, but your son is incredibly talented. Did he learn from you?”
My mom and I burst into laughter at the same time.
“No, Oliver’s artistic ability is all his own. He taught himself.”
Aaron looks shocked. I shrug. “YouTube.” I believe that anything is possible with the help of the internet.
My mom’s inquisition continues for a few minutes, until a cry follows a thunk in the living room. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Are you finished?” I motion toward his plate.
“Yep. Thank you. It was perfect.”
I can’t help the blush that rises in my cheeks. Hopefully, he won’t notice. “Let’s go grab our bags from the car so we don’t have to do it later. Then I’ll introduce you to the kids.”
“Lead the way.”
CHAPTER 21
AARON
Holidays with my family were never very festive. That’s at least what I tell people when they ask. It’s easier than telling them the truth. The reality is that they weren’t overall bad, at least not from the outside looking in. Instead, they were full of all these tiny moments where I had to pretend to be someone else. The son my parents dreamed of, rather than the one they got.
As a kid, I didn’t really understand that, didn’t understand why I felt so different. As a teenager, the pieces slowly started to fall into place, and the chasm between who I was and who I pretended to be grew wider and wider until it almost swallowed me whole.
I still remember the last Christmas I spent with them. It was shortly after I told them I was bisexual. My aunt and uncle were over, gathered around the table with us, and everything was so quiet. At least while I was there. After I went to my room, theyelling started. I couldn’t make out exactly what was being said, but I knew at least a part of it was about me.
Thankfully, the following year, Matthias put his arm around my shoulder and told me I was coming to his house. It wasn’t an invitation, but an order. Since then, his parents always had a spot at their table for me. Every holiday, every birthday, every Saturday. No questions asked. It was a kind of love I’d never known before.
Sitting in the living room, with five kids lying on the floor and adults covering every inch of possible seating space, Oliver’s family gives off a lot of the same vibes. It’s a little more chaotic and a bit more wild, but the same unconditional love fills every nook and cranny of this house.
It’s overwhelming in all the best ways.
“You alright?” Oliver whispers in my ear. We’re tucked in tightly on one of the loveseats. It’s well-worn, probably from years of abuse from the Walsh children and grandchildren, but so comfortable I’m not sure I’ll ever get up.
“Perfect.” I reach between us to grab his hand for a moment. Except, once I give him the little squeeze I was planning, I don’t want to let go. A glance around the room tells me that no one’s watching us. They’re either focused onThe Grinchplaying on the TV, the kids, or half asleep. A few of them might actually be sleeping.
So I don’t move. Holding Oliver’s hand feels right. I know I don’t have our whole relationship worked out yet. Most of the time, I’m winging it and hoping for the best. At work, there are always blueprints, schematics, and detailed plans for me to follow. Nothing like that exists for a relationship.
Trust me, I’ve looked into it.
If Oliver thinks anything of it, he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t attempt to move away from me. It figures, given that he’s better than me at the relationship stuff.
“Alright, I think that means it’s time for everyone to head to bed.” Oliver’s father announces as the credits start to roll. There’s a round of groans and complaints from the floor, but no one puts up too much of a fight. “Everyone knows where they’re sleeping tonight?”
There’s a round of yeses from the adults in the room.
