28. Ezra
“What’s all this?” Dad asked when he padded out to the kitchen late morning three days before Christmas.
“The Delatou family holiday party is tonight. They’ve got this tradition where the women cook Thanksgiving dinner and the men handle Christmas. For years, it was obviously only Leon fending for himself, but now that he’s got a whole group of us, we each agreed to pitch in something for the party.”
He raised a brow. “And you’re pitching in by making a five-course meal?”
I huffed out an annoyed sigh, which also served to blow the stubborn lock of hair off my forehead. I was in dire need of a cut, but life had been so crazy lately with the holiday season at the winery, as well as all of Hansen’s end-of-semester programs, that it had fallen by the wayside.
“This,” I said with an eye roll, sweeping my hand over the island, “isn’t a five-course meal. I just want to make a good impression.”
“You cook for these people every day,” my dad said with a snort. “I think you’re doing just fine.”
I glared daggers at him. “Leave me alone.”
“Just saying, kid. You’re putting in a lot of effort for a simple holiday party.”
“If I’m going to win Brie back, nothing about it is simple.”
Dad’s eyes narrowed. “About time you pulled your head out of your ass.”
I chose to ignore that and added, “Plus, you know food is my love language.”
“What’s a love language?” Hansen asked from the living room, where he was building some sort of Legos tower.
“It’s how you express and experience love,” I told him. “Like…you know how you get really happy when someone tells you you’ve done a good job, so you keep doing things that ensure we do it again and again? That makes me think your love language is words of affirmation. You’re happiest and feel the most loved when people are praising you.”
“Hmm…” Hansen said, tapping his forefinger to his chin and looking far older than his five and a half years. “Makes sense. So you feel happiest and most loved when you’re cooking and feeding people?”
“Exactly,” I confirmed, smiling widely.
Honestly, my favorite part of parenthood was watching him grow and learn and discover new things about the world. I knew I was going to fuck up sometimes, but I was thoroughly enjoying this stage. Hansen was so smart and curious, but also silly and playful. In truth, he was the perfect kid, and I counted my blessings every day that he was mine.
“So what exactly are you making?” Dad asked.
“Finger foods,” I replied, spinning from the stove to point at each dish on the island. “Deviled eggs, meatballs on skewers, stuffed mushrooms, fig, pecan, and brie bites, and sesame scallops.”
My dad, who had never been one to beat around the bush, narrowed his gaze on me and said, “You do realize you’re not technically part of the family, right?”
I flipped him off. “Thanks, Dad.”
He shrugged. “I’m just saying, kiddo. This is a lot of work for nothing.”
“It’s not for nothing,” I protested. “At the very least, everyone who attends the party will rave about my food, and that right there is enough to make the night a win in my book.”
“But you want more than that.”
I sighed, wiping my hands on the towel slung over my shoulder and dropping it onto the one bare spot of counter space.
I did want more. When it came to Brie, I wanted everything. The crazy extended family. The mass of sisters and their significant others becoming the siblings I never had. The father-in-law who terrified me and the mother-in-law who fawned over me and my son at every opportunity. The people who, when I was down on my luck and desperate for a change, gave me a soft, safe place to land. This little town and all its quirks.
The bakery, Brie’s cake batter skin. Her calling me “Chef” and me calling her “honey.” I wanted all of it. Forever.
“Do you remember our first Christmas here?” I asked my dad.
“I do,” he said slowly.
“It’s funny to think how much has changed, isn’t it?”
He pondered that for a moment. “I don’t think it’s funny, exactly. That’s what happens in life—time marches on, and the world keeps spinning around us. I think without all the Shannon drama holding you back like it was that first year, you’ve had the chance to become the man and father you were always meant to be.”
“You mean that?” I asked. “You think I’m a good man and father?”
“Hey, Hansen?” Dad asked, ignoring me.
“Yeah, Papa?”
“Do you love your dad?”
“More than anything in the world,” my son said without hesitation.
My dad turned his attention back to me, giving me a soft smile when he saw the tears welling in my eyes. “I think that says enough, don’t you?”
“What about everything else?” I asked quietly, voice hoarse as I tried to corral my emotions.
“I think only you can answer that, son. But if you want me to tell you how proud of you I am, both of the man you’ve grown into and the father you are to my favorite grandson—”
“Hey!” Hansen shouted, cutting in. Apparently, he’d been playing closer attention than we thought. “I’m your only grandson.”
Dad shrugged. “Doesn’t mean you’re not my favorite.”
“Whatever,” Hansen grumbled, though good-naturedly, before returning to his Legos.
“The point I’m trying to make,” Dad continued, “is that you got the short end of the stick with your last relationship. Maybe it’s time you sought happiness again.”
“Brie makes me happy,” I said, fighting to get the words out around the stinging in my nose and eyes. “After Shannon, I didn’t think I’d ever be able to feel this way again. It’s scary, but…I need that woman in my life in whatever way she’ll have me.”
“Then do what you gotta do, kid.”
I smiled, knowing I had his blessing. He knew this pursuit of Brie wasn’t something I took lightly, not when I’d spent the last nearly six years of my life making decisions with only one person in mind—my son. But I was ready to do what I’d been too fucking scared and broken to do before.
This time, I wasn’t going down without a fight.
“Ezra!” Lena gasped when she opened the door to find me standing there, arms laden with as many dishes as I could safely carry. Hansen and Dad weren’t far behind me, each holding what they could as well.
I was pretty sure there was still more in the car.
Maybe I had gone overboard.
“Hi, Lena,” I said, shooting her a wide grin.
“What is all of this?” she asked as she stepped aside to let me and my family in.
“Men cook for Christmas, right?”
“Well, yes…” She trailed off as the three of us formed a procession toward their dining room. “But, you know, you cook for us all day every day. You didn’t need to go through all this trouble.”
Carefully sliding the dishes onto the long buffet table set up under the windows that looked out over the water, I turned to Lena.
“I don’t mind, truly. Plus…” I started, moving closer and dropping my voice. The commotion of our arrival had drawn a crowd, and the Delatou women and their significant others began to filter into the room. “You don’t really want to eat anything Leon cooked, right?”
Lena tipped her head back and barked out a laugh, and I grinned alongside her. Leon approached, eyes narrowed in suspicion, sliding his arm possessively around his wife’s waist.
“No one but me should be making my wife laugh like that, Wendt,” he groused.
“Sorry, sir.”
Leon chuckled and settled his free hand on my shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, son.” He glanced over my shoulder. “I see you came bearing gifts.”
I shrugged. “It is Christmas, right?”
Leon nodded and said, “And because of you, we won’t starve.”
Lena turned to him, the smooth skin of her forehead scrunching in confusion, and I bit back a laugh. Looked like someone was in trouble.
“You spent all day in the kitchen,” Lena said. “What were you doing in there if not cooking?”
“Ahh, well…you see—” Leon started, but Lena held up a hand.
“Save it.” She turned away from him and rolled her eyes. The laugh I’d been holding back broke free, and Leon’s frown deepened. “You were probably watching fishing videos or something equally ridiculous.”
“Fishing videos are not ridiculous!” Leon protested.
Sensing an argument brewing, I slipped away, my eyes scanning the crowd of brunette heads for one in particular. Like the water parting on the Red Sea, Brie’s family shifted out of the way until I had a clear line of sight to her.
“Fuck,” I breathed.
She was…exquisite. A goddamn dark-haired angel sent from above and gliding toward me on bright red satin pumps. My eyes trailed slowly up her legs, covered in black tights, meeting the indecently high hem of her little red dress. The skirt was full and structured, a white sash tied around her trim waist, the corset top suctioned to her full tits, the tops of which bounced with every one of her steps. The long sleeves were sheer and billowy before they cinched at her wrists. A delicate diamond pendant the size of my thumbnail and shaped like a heart rested against her chest, and matching studs twinkled in her ears through the cloud of her curled hair.
But the rest of it faded away when those blood-red lips parted in a wide smile, her green eyes twinkling under the warm white lights and candles Lena had decorated with.
“Fuck,” I said again when she at last stopped in front of me. “You are…”
“Do you like it?” she asked almost shyly, dropping her eyes to the floor.
I tucked a finger under her chin and raised her gaze back to mine. “‘Like’ isn’t even close to strong enough to describe my feelings about it,” I said, using my free hand to smooth down her side, the material soft beneath my touch. “You’re stunning, Brie. But you already knew that.”
“Still nice to hear,” she said, that gorgeous blush blooming in her cheeks.
“I’ll tell you every day if you want. ”
Brie winked. “I’ll take it under advisement.”
I groaned quietly, and her laugh was music to my ears. Truthfully, I liked that she was making me work for it. I’d hurt her, and I understood she had to guard her heart against the possibility of that happening again—especially after what she’d gone through in the aftermath.
The chase would make the reunion that much sweeter, and I couldn’t wait for the day she finally gave in.
“So what sorts of treats did you whip up for us?” I asked, trailing behind her as she skirted the table, eyeing the evening’s offerings.
“Nothing.”
I looped my fingers around her wrist and pulled her to a stop as we reached the end of the table and the tiered trays of sweets.
“You mean to tell me you didn’t prepare any of this?” I asked.
“Nope,” she said happily. “Boys cook, remember?”
“Of course I remember,” I growled, hooking my thumb over my shoulder. “I slaved over that shit for hours.”
Brie giggled. “I’m sure your hard work will be rewarded.”
I raised a brow, not missing the seductive tone to her words. “By you?”
“Maybe if you’re a really good boy.”
Instantly, my cock thickened, and I hissed a curse as I angled myself away from her family and adjusted myself. Brie laughed, the sound more carefree and joyful than anything I’d heard from her in ages. I couldn’t help but grin in response.
“I missed that laugh.”
I missed you , I wanted to add.
She leaned closer, her sugary scent wrapping around me as she dropped her voice and said, “I think it might be back for good.”
I pulled back to study her face, finding nothing but contentment and…happiness. Was I somehow responsible for it?
Awkwardly, I cleared my throat. “So if you didn’t bake, who did?”
Brie turned toward her family and pointed at Logan and Cal. “Those two.”
“You let Logan into the kitchen?”
Brie blinked at me, confused. “What’s wrong with that?”
I’d gotten to know Logan Daniels fairly well during my time in Apple Blossom Bay, simply thanks to proximity to this family and the fact that he was married to the eldest daughter. He was…energetic, a classic Golden Retriever personality, which made it even more fitting that he owned one. He was exuberant and helpful, always down to throw himself into whatever task was asked of him with more enthusiasm than I think I’d ever shown for anything in my entire life. The fact that he was an attorney had done nothing short of blowing my mind when I found out. Rectifying the carefree, energetic man I knew with someone who possessed any sort of gravitas for court proceedings had been difficult.
In short, he was kind of a goof, if one of the best guys I’d ever met, and I couldn’t imagine him slaving away in the kitchen over baked goods.
Cal, on the other hand, was a numbers guy, a perfectionist. He’d follow a recipe to the letter to ensure it yielded the correct results, so picturing him whipping up the treats was a far easier task.
Those two together, though? Oil and water. Yet, somehow, they were great friends.
The only explanation was the women they’d chosen to share their lives with forced a connection that wouldn’t have happened otherwise.
And adding Owen Lawless into the fold? Who was already Cal’s best friend but had easily ingratiated himself into the Delatou family—even before he and Delia had figured their shit out, which they finally had around Thanksgiving.
Brie’s sisters had found themselves some truly impressive partners, and I wanted so badly to be a part of it myself. Did I find myself all that impressive? Of course not. I simply wanted to consider myself an extension of this family unit. I wanted to call Brie mine, wanted to truly have Leon and Lena be like parents to me instead of only considering them as such inside my head.
And I’d never had siblings, so I couldn’t think of anything better than suddenly calling the Delatou women my sisters and their significant others my brothers.
I’d never really stopped to consider it before—what exactly I wanted out of life. I had Hansen and my dad, and for a long time, that was enough. They’d always be my true family, but I didn’t think there was anything wrong with wanting to expand that family to include these people too.
“Ez?” Brie asked, pulling me from my thoughts.
I shook my head to clear them and said, “What were we talking about?”
She giggled and said, “You were concerned that I let Logan in the kitchen.”
“Right,” I said, snapping my fingers as I picked up the thread of our conversation. “I guess I’m just shocked you didn’t take control of all this.”
Brie shrugged. “If it makes you feel better, I did supervise. But you know the rules. Women cook at Thanksgiving, and men cook—”
“Christmas,” I finished for her. “Yeah, I got it. Why do you think I brought enough food to feed a small army?”
“Because cooking for people is your love language,” she said matter-of-factly.
I stilled, dumbfounded, remembering my earlier comment to Hansen. Sometimes, I forgot how truly well this woman knew me. How we’d spent months of phone calls getting to know one another. I was deeply pleased to discover she hadn’t forgotten everything in our time apart.
Maybe she hadn’t forgotten anything and, like me, had simply chosen to keep her memories locked away to protect herself.
After everything had gone down with Shannon, after the judge had granted our divorce and I washed my hands of her, I hadn’t handled it well. I guess maybe I thought it was safe to fall apart because she wasn’t around to witness it, and Hansen was too young to know the difference. When I’d pulled the plug on me and Brie, well…Hansen had still been too young to know anything was wrong, but I had done a much better job at keeping it together, mostly because I knew I’d still have to see her regularly, and I refused to let her see me hurting.
But somewhere along the way the last few years, I’d cracked the lid on that box, and everything about Brie and our time together that I’d carefully stowed away was leaking out into my mind, my emotions and our memories prying the box open wider, freeing themselves at last .
I was surprised to find I wasn’t afraid to face them. In fact, I relished those feelings. I wanted to remember—and wanted to make new ones with her and my boy by my side.
“Ezra?” Lena called, pulling me from my thoughts. I looked at her, and she asked, “Would you be a dear and go grab a few bottles of wine for dinner? Whatever you think will go best with all of this.”
“Sure,” I said happily. Wine selection was one of my favorite parts of being a chef. The component that could make or break a meal.
“I’ll go with you,” Brie offered.
I held out my arm, gesturing for her to go ahead of me. “Lead the way.”
The second we were out of sight of her family, she reached back for my hand, threading our fingers together.
“We’re doing this now?” I asked, glancing pointedly at where we connected as she pulled me through the house.
Brie shrugged. “This feels…safe.”
I snorted, and Brie shot me a glare. There was nothing safe about this woman. Not about her body, her mind, her tinkling laugh and soft moans that grew in volume the closer she got to her climax. Everything about her screamed danger , the kind of warning that urged you to turn back before you fell under her spell.
Unfortunately for me, that ship had already sailed. I was fully entranced by Brie Delatou, had been since the moment I met her.
We didn’t speak further as we descended a staircase into the wine cellar, and goosebumps erupted on Brie’s skin as the cool, dry air washed over us. She let go of my hand to wrap her arms around herself.
“Hurry before I freeze.”
“You don’t want to help?” I asked as I approached the wall of wines.
“N-no,” she said, teeth chattering. “Just w-wanted to be a-alone with you.”
“All you had to do was ask,” I said, not facing her as I perused the selection, ultimately deciding on Pinot Noir. In deference to Brie, I knew to stay far away from Cabernet, but the sweeter Pinot Noir grape was safe territory. I shot her a wink as I turned back to her. “I’ll happily be alone with you anytime you want.”
Brie rolled her eyes, a small smile playing on her red lips. “We’re not there yet, Ez.”
“I know, I know,” I said. “Hand holding only for now.”
She nodded, and I chuckled. Gripping the bottle necks between the fingers of one hand, I reached for Brie’s with the other and tugged us back upstairs. She breathed a deep sigh when the warm air greeted us, her pebbled flesh once again smoothing out.
I wasn’t sure where she stood on wanting her family to know something was happening between us, so I dropped her hand before we crossed the threshold into the dining room.
“Wait!” someone shouted as we were about to enter the room.
Brie and I skidded to a halt, glancing confusedly at each other.
“What’s wrong?” Brie asked.
Lena jerked her chin, and the rest of the family snickered behind their hands as they all looked at something over our heads.
Oh, no…
Slowly, I raised my gaze to the arched entrance, somehow already knowing what I’d find. The Delatou women were the queens of meddling, and I should’ve known we wouldn’t be safe from their handiwork.
My heart dropped then kicked up speed until it was pumping almost uncomfortably against my sternum when I took in what hung above our heads.
A sprig of mistletoe.