Chapter Forty-Nine
Blake
M y mom and I are in the kitchen, making sugar cookies while she quietly sings along to the Christmas music playing in the background. It’s a tradition we’ve had for almost a decade now.
Every Christmas Eve morning, we make biscochitos . It’s something she’s been doing with her mom since she was a little girl. But one year, Calypso Davies asked if we could try making decorated sugar cookies too.
Calypso, her little sister Vivi, and I used to spend all evening with our moms just like this. They’d be drinking sangria and singing along to Last Christmas, while we ate way too much sugar, and made more cookies than our families could eat. We’d go pass them out around town the day after Christmas.
It’s been a few years since our families spent Christmas together—at least since I was fourteen and before Grady went off to college. But even by then, we’d all started to grow up and grow apart.
As we started spending the holidays as individual families, my mom and I never fell out of our Christmas Eve tradition.
The butterflies in my stomach are new though and have been fluttering around since I woke up this morning. I thought after we had sex, there wasn’t going to be a lot of big firsts anymore. But I was wrong.
Because spending Christmas together for the first time feels monumental. And I hope it really is just the first of many.
Fingers crossed.
The doorbell rings as I’m just starting to knead the next batch of dough. My head whips up at the sound, only now realizing how late in the afternoon it is. It’s one of those activities that makes time fly.
“I’ll get it, morrita ,” my mom tells me and gently rubs my back. I smile at her over my shoulder and try to get my nerves in check.
It’s almost five p.m. when Adrian gets here; it’s still earlier than I expected since he worked today. My dad isn’t home yet, but he typically stays until everyone, minus the overnight staff, has already left on holidays. So, I don’t really expect him back until closer to seven when we sit down to eat.
The soft sounds of my mom and Adrian talking flitter into the kitchen, except I can’t make out the words until they’ve rounded the corner.
“Oh, you didn’t have to do that, mijo ,” my mom practically coos. “It’s enough of a gift to have you here with us, but I do appreciate it.”
She leans over to pat him on the cheek before taking the gifts out of his hands and moves to put them under the tree. I’m still at the counter with my hands sticky with cookie dough so, when his eyes move to me, I just offer him a small, sweet smile.
“Hi,” I murmur as he walks over to me. There was a bit of doubt he’d actually wear pajamas when he showed up for Christmas Eve dinner. I shouldn’t have questioned him for a second. It’s not nearly as festive as my gingerbread print set, but the dark green flannel bottoms and plain tee check the box in my opinion.
It’s a tradition around here.
“Hey, Storm Cloud.” His eyes glance to my mom, who seems to be distracting herself in the living room. I figure she’s doing it to offer us a private moment to greet each other—and I appreciate it.
“I’m glad you’re here,” I admit quietly.
“Me too.” Before the words are even out of his mouth, his lips are already on mine. It’s not a quick kiss, but it is chaste and tender. Pulling away, he moves toward the sink and asks, “How can I help?”
Seeming to hear his question, my mom makes her way back toward us and re-washes her hands as well. “Oh, do you like baking? Blake mentioned you enjoy cooking and trying different types of food.”
He nods and moves to stand next to me, examining some of the cookie cutters that are piled nearby. “I love to cook—got into the hobby from my dad. I’ve never experimented with baking much, but I’d love to help, if that’s okay.”
His eyes move from my mom to me, then back again.
I gently nudge him with my shoulder. “Of course it’s okay.”
“Blake’s almost done with the next batch of dough, so she can show you how to cut and lay them out. I’ll get the frosting ready, and we can start on the ones cooling next.”
“Sounds good to me,” he easily agrees, and waits for me to give him his next instructions.
This isn’t the hardest part of the process, but it helps that Adrian listens and takes instructions well. He’s also not scared to ask questions rather than assume he can figure it out. It makes sense why my dad enjoys having him as an employee so much.
The conversation between my mom, him and I flows easily. We talk about my friends, and Adrian’s parents, and how my parents usually pop over to see their best friend Bonnie’s family before bed. I don’t go, though I always spend the day after Christmas with Bonnie for lunch and for presents.
My dad gets home earlier than expected. By seven-thirty p.m., we’re done with dinner, and drinking hot chocolate with only a few more cookies to decorate.
“This is really good, by the way,” Adrian tells me. “I like peppermint, I just never think to add it.”
I roll my eyes and admit, “It’s my brother’s recipe actually. He spent a couple winters perfecting it.” My dad chuckles at the memory of a young Grady making little Vivi very sick one year.
At the same moment, my phone starts to vibrate on the counter.
“Speak of the devil,” I say as I accept the FaceTime call.
Grady’s looking down at his infant daughter, who’s currently perched against his chest as he uses his free hand to hold her little nose up like a Who from The Grinch. His head snaps up when he hears me.
“Excuse me, you’re one to talk.”
Laughing, I shake my head. “We were just talking about your hot chocolate. And will you leave the poor girl alone?”
At that, my mom jumps out of her seat to look into the screen. Her eyes squint, relaxing as soon as she realizes her granddaughter isn’t in any real danger. Only at the expense of my brother’s boredom.
“Oh, pollito ,” she muses when she sees the two of them cuddling. I can’t help but snort when she uses that childhood nickname for him. Depending on the context, ‘morrita’ just means ‘little girl.’ Sometime during Grady’s toddler years, he was given the nickname of ‘little chicken.’
And considering the fact he was scared of the dark until middle school, it easily stuck.
He rolls his eyes at her, but it’s affectionate. “Hi, Mom. Where’s Dad?”
Grabbing the phone out of my hand, she rounds the island to put my dad in frame. “He’s here.”
“Hi, Grady.”
“Hey, Dad. How was the cl—”
Before he can finish the question, my mom is walking around the other side of the island, toward Adrian.
“We have a guest with us tonight.”
“Oh?” Grady asks cautiously. And I don’t blame him. You never know what my meddling mother has up her sleeve.
“This is Adrian—Blake’s boyfriend and your dad’s employee.”
“Oh,” Adrian mutters as she forces the phone in front of his face. “Uh, hey, man.”
It’s the most awkward I’ve ever seen Adrian act—which does make me snicker a little—I’m sure this isn’t how he expected to meet my brother. It isn’t out of the question for it to be on a FaceTime call, but I don’t think anyone thought my mom would do the honor of introductions.
“Hey,” Grady greets, seeming to recover from the weirdness. He’s much more used to our mother. “Nice to kind of meet you.”
“Yeah, you too.”
“I’ll be right back to talk to you more. Can someone hand me to Blake for a second?”
Snatching my phone back, I tell Grady, “Sorry—”
Interrupting me instead, he adds to the moment by saying, “Boyfriend?” There’s surprise in his tone, but it’s mostly just happiness and even a bit of pride. There was definitely a fifty percent chance I was still going to chicken out of pursuing things with Adrian the last time I talked to him about it.
“Oh my God, you’re on speaker, you know.”
His smile is mischievous because he does, in fact, know that. “It’s adorable, kid.”
“Thanks, bye,” I tell him with a fake smile, and hand my phone back to my mom.
I can hear Grady’s laugh as she takes the phone and spends another fifteen minutes talking to him about God knows what. Before he hangs up though, I take the phone and Adrian to the couch.
The three of us sit and talk for a while—mostly about Stella, but a little about their college courses.
During a lull, Adrian tells him, “Blake’s thinking about sending in a late application for the fall.”
I wasn’t really planning on telling a lot of people until I figured out if I was starting in the fall or spring. So it’s not that I was hiding it from my brother, but we hardly talk anyway. There’s so much warmth and pride in Adrian’s voice, I’m not mad at him for doing the honors.
“Really?” Grady asks. He tries to sit up straighter, though Stella whines a little until he settles back again.
“Yeah,” I admit as my cheeks warm. “It all kind of came together after we got in trouble with Dad recently.”
“ You? In trouble with Dad? Yeah, right.”
“No, he was pissed… then I was pissed.” I quickly fill him in on what happened and where we went wrong in trying to be helpful.
Grady blows out a breath as I finish. “Yeah, that wasn’t your best plan. But your heart was in the right place. Both of yours,” he adds with a nod in Adrian’s direction.
Nodding, I tell him, “It was. Dad knows that even though it was still wrong. Because of that, and with Adrian’s help”—I glance up at him quickly—“I’ve realized I want to create something that allows me to help in a way that’s ethical and beneficial.”
“That sounds amazing, Blake.” He smiles gently at me, and I remember the night I told Grady I didn’t want to go to college yet.
He was in town on a break, and my parents didn’t know yet. He was the one who convinced me they’d understand—which they did, with some conditions, like working at the clinic, and continuing therapy. But he also told me he wasn’t worried. He knew I’d figure it out when the time was right for me, and when I did, ‘it would be amazing .’
With more gusto, I tell him everything. “I don’t know if it’s too late to get into UCAH for the fall. So, that’s why I hadn’t mentioned it. I’m thinking I want to major in nonprofit management, with a minor in business administration. It seems to make the most sense?”
It ends with a question, and I glance between Grady and Adrian.
Adrian wryly shakes his head, not saying anything. We’ve talked about this a lot, and he agrees it seems like the best route. Even so, I have an appointment with an advisor in January to make sure.
“Sounds like a great plan to me,” Grady confirms. He assesses me for a moment, seeming to take in all the small differences from the last time we saw each other. “It actually seems like the most perfect career I could think of for you.”
I grin at him, and before I can say anything, my dad’s voice comes from behind me. “I agree.” Leaning over the back of the couch, he puts his face in frame. “I’m proud of both my kids.”
“Excuse me—I’m creating a program that could change thousands of lives, and he lost his chance at the MLB, and got his girlfriend pregnant at twenty-one. How can you even compare us?”
Grady laughs, knowing I’m joking. There was still a chance he could’ve had an athletic career after his injury, but I think the ACL tear and Stella’s conception happening so close together, flipped his world upside down.
And being a father suits him in a way baseball never did.
Ignoring me, my dad continues, “I came to say bye and that we’ll call you tomorrow. We’re going to head over to Bonnie’s for a while.”
As if she’s already in tune with her dad, Stella lets out a startled cry at the mention of the Davies family. Grady and I both can’t help but burst out laughing at the coincidence. My dad rolls his eyes and walks away.
“On that note,” Grady says and sits up now that she’s awake. “She’s probably hungry, and Arielle is with her mom in the back.”
“Okay, Grady. Thanks for calling.”
“Love you, kid.” His tone is giddy with affection and pride, and it almost feels like a gift of its own. “Adrian, it was nice meeting you. Can’t wait to do it in person.”
“You too,” Adrian nods. “See ya.”
After a quick goodbye, I hang up and turn toward Adrian. “Sooo, what should we do?”
One of his brows flicks up and he glances toward the back door before tilting his head in a way that suggests he has a few ideas.