“Smells good.”
“I was starving,” I reply.
“I wonder why,” he says, chuckling.
“I wonder,” I repeat.
“FJ is sleeping.”
“He does that a lot,” I say.
“I bet.”
“We’ll finish up breakfast and then get ready.”
“I’m ready,” he says. I look him over. He looks fantastic in his dark wash jeans, boots, and gray henley. He slung a blue flannel over the barstool, so I assume he’ll throw that on too. I decide here and now that our first family picture is one where we will be in matching clothes, so I know I’m going to dress FJ and myself in similar outfits.
After breakfast, I take a quick shower and get dressed. I’m not big on makeup, so I throw on some mascara and some lipgloss, calling it a day. I hate to wake FJ when he’s sleeping, but he needs a diaper change, and I need to dress him.
Surprisingly, he doesn’t fuss as I change him. I put him in his car seat and carry him out to the living room, where my dad and Forest are deep in conversation that stops when I walk in.
“What was that about?” I ask as we walk out to my car. I show Forest how the car seat just snaps into the base and get into the passenger seat, letting him drive to Santa’s Tri-State Tree Farm. We used to go there when we were kids. Besides seeing Santa, we can pick and chop down a Christmas tree, but my mom switched to artificial years ago.
“Nothing to worry about, just catching up with Pop.” Everyone but me calls my dad Pop. When we were growing up, all of Steve’s friends and even mine called him that, but Forest was the first person to call him that. He’ll always be dad to me.
“That’s nice. I know he’s missed you, and you’re like a second son to him.”
“I went home while you were in the shower. My mom was like an excited badger once she knew I knew about FJ.”
“I bet. She’s the best Nan a boy could ask for.”
“Nan? That’s what we called her mom.”
“I know. That’s why we picked it.”
“I’ve missed a lot, and that’s all I’m going to say on the matter. It’s not going to happen again, so I we can move forward.”
“Sounds good,” I say, taking his hand. “I really am sorry,” I repeat.
“Don’t apologize again. What’s done is done.”
He has a way of making me feel alive. Thoughts of him are what we got me through the last year. I may have made the wrong choice, but it felt right at the time.
We get to to the tree farm, and of course, it starts snowing. I drape a blanket over the car seat, and he carries it inside the barn where the line is for Santa. Thankfully, the weather has kept people away, and the line is short. I situate FJ in Santa’s arms for a solo picture, then Forest and I jump in on either side of Santa.
We get the prints right away, and I’m in love with them. We look so happy, and I really am, and I just hope Forest is. With our first family photo in the books, we grab hot chocolates for the ride home because it’s really snowing now.
We are no strangers to snow, blizzards even, but this is accumulating incredibly fast. We manage to stop at the store, and I pick up the last-minute Christmas items our mothers just texted us for while he waits in the car with FJ. I don’t want to take him outside any more than absolutely necessary.
On Christmas morning, the Lochlans and the Austens get together as we’ve done for years now. FJ makes it that much easier for our families to be blended now.
“How are you feeling now that he’s home?” Cara, my best friend, and Forest’s sister, asks, sitting down beside me on the couch. She reaches for the baby, and I hand him over. She’s the best aunt.
“I feel great. You know how much I missed him.”
“I do.”
“How’s college?” I ask, not the least bit jealous that she’s a Freshman at Boston University. School wasn’t for me, and I know that now.
“Not great. I miss being at home.” Can she not see that Steve is looking at her like he wants to eat her up?
“No… I think you miss Steve,” I say loudly, without realizing it. All eyes, including Steve’s, land on me. Cara’s mouth drops open. It’s the worst kept secret in the world. Everyone but Steve knows she’s completely in love with him. Everyone but Cara knows Steve’s in love with her. I wonder what the deal is. Why won’t they just tell each other?
“Jesus, Desi. Yell much,” she whispers, mortified.
“What was that?” Steve asks, bounding toward us. My eyes widen, and I take the baby from Cara.