“I want to be at home. In case…” My chest tightens. What if nobody comes over and I just sit there all day, alone like some grumpy old man? “Why don’t you all come to my place?”
Drake nods. “I’ll tell Ember. She’s already bought the turkey and trimmings, but I’m sure we can just bring dinner to you. And there’ll be plenty to go around. Even if other people turn up.”
My gut twists. Usually, Mason splits his Christmas day either coming to my house for dinner or later in the evening. I can’t imagine a Christmas where I don’t see him at all. He might be a little shit sometimes, but he’s still my son.
“Fuck it.” I swerve, taking a right turn out of town.
Drake grabs onto the dash. “Where are we going?”
“You said to go there. If he’s not answering his phone, then he’ll answer me in person. I’m still his dad.”
Drake licks his fingers, then wipes his mouth with the napkin. “Yeah. That’s what I’m talking about.”
As I drive away from town, past snow-dusted hedges and gardens decked out in festive cheer, my pulse quickens. The houses get bigger the closer we get to the coast. Mason’s mom always did like to show off. Thankfully, she’s spending Doug’s money now instead of mine.
I pull up outside my ex’s house. Last time I came here was before Mason could drive, when I used to have to pick him up. Her front lawn’s packed with Christmas lights, glowing reindeer, inflatable Santa, the works, all neatly behind a white picket fence. I kill the engine and stare at the house, bile creeping up my throat.
“You gonna sit around counting the flakes or you gonna talk to the kid?”
I drum my fingers on the steering wheel. “You ever heard the saying ‘let sleeping dogs lie’?”
“Can’t be any worse than running into a burning building.”
“You haven’t met my ex-wife.”
He grins. “Then it’s a good thing you brought backup.”
“You know, I don’t tell you enough, but I’m glad you’re here, dragon boy.”
“Love you too, brother. Now get over there and fix this before I start writing letters to Santa on your behalf.”
“All right, but if I don’t come out within half an hour, send a search party.”
Drake grins. “Copy that.”
I climb out, crunching through the snow to the front door. For a second, I consider turning back. Then the door flies open.
“Flint.”
My ex-wife, Lauren, leans against the frame, dressed like she’s shooting a Christmas ad with her perfect hair and Christmas sweater with more sequins than sense. “Oh look. It’s the father of the year.”
“Good to see you too, Lauren.” I pull my coat closed at the front to keep out the cold. “Is Mason home?”
Footsteps thunder on the stairs, then Mason appears, hair messy under his hoodie, eyes still hard as ice. “What do you want?”
“To talk.”
“About what? Your new girlfriend?”
Lauren crosses her arms, watching this like it’s her favourite soap.
“Mason,” I say, keeping my voice level. “I’m not here to fight.”
“Good, because I’m not staying long.” He grabs his coat. “I’ve got plans.”
I step aside. “Give me five minutes. After that, you can go.”
He hesitates, jaw tight, then mutters, “Five minutes.”
