Chapter Five #2
He beamed. “It really is a Fratmas miracle!”
I’d made his morning, just by saying one nice thing.
Then his smile grew to impossibly wide dimensions, and he said, “Hey, Scout?”
“What?”
“I love you, bro.”
I grunted and punched him in the shoulder.
“You’re a work in progress,” he said, giving me finger guns.
“Go get your boo and get out of here,” I said, “before I tell Trey about the table.”
“Work in progress,” he repeated and bounded up the stairs.
I went back to the kitchen, filled our coffee mugs, and put them on a tray.
Then I headed back upstairs, my heart pounding.
I pushed our bedroom door open and Trey greeted me with an easy smile from where he was sitting, his back propped up against the headboard, reading something on his phone.
I set the tray down on the desk and sat on the bed next to him, my legs folded under me.
“Why is the coffee over there and not over here, Scout?” he asked.
I fiddled with the corner of the quilt, tracing the seam with my fingertips. My nerves jangled like a pocketful of keys, but I pushed them down. I was doing this.
I took a deep breath, and this time the words didn’t get stuck. I pushed them out with enough air behind them to launch a windsurfer, and they only wobbled a tiny bit. “I love you.”
Trey stared at me silently, and all my insecurities rushed up to the surface. But then he grinned, wide enough to make creases appear at the corners of his eyes, set his phone down, and said, “I know, baby. And I love you.”
The relief almost knocked me flat.
Trey reached out and curled his fingers around my wrist, familiar and warm, like he’d done a hundred times before.
Because nothing had changed.
Except also, everything had. And that was fine.
As I got up and went to fetch the coffee, I fought a smile and might have lost.
Which, just this once, was also fine.
Trey and I spent the morning in bed, reading and talking.
I drank my coffee. He drank half of his and left the rest to go cold.
Every time he heard a noise from downstairs—a door slamming, a laugh or a shout—he twitched with the need to get up and go check, but he stayed in bed with me.
Marty sent a text just before lunchtime to say that he was the last one out, and then, finally, the old house was silent.
Trey pushed the comforter back and I didn’t try to stop him this time.
He dressed and headed downstairs. I padded after him, still in my robe, and watched with amusement as he tried to make it look like he wasn’t checking that the guys had cleaned up properly.
He totally was, though, unless there was some other reason for him to open every drawer in the kitchen and close it again.
“Looking for something?”
He hummed and headed for the living room. I sat on the couch as his gaze raked over the walls, the floor, and finally settled on the coffee table. He lifted a corner of the tablecloth and let out a sigh.
“It’s just a table, Trey.”
“It’s over a hundred years old.”
“And now it has character.” I straightened up and tugged the tablecloth back down. “Besides, Marty says he’ll fix it.”
“That is not the reassurance you think it is.”
“No,” I agreed. “But watching him try will be entertaining. And he did do a good job of Fratmas.”
Trey smiled. “Yeah, he did.” He scanned the room again, nodding to himself, and then drew a breath. “Okay, I’d better finish packing.”
I stood, my stomach fluttering unpleasantly. “Okay. But come here first.” I held out my hand.
He raised his eyebrows, still smiling, and let me reel him in.
Kissing Trey was something I did every day, but it always felt like new.
Today, knowing I wouldn’t see him for almost a month made it bittersweet.
I tried to commit every detail to my memory—his scent, the pressure of his mouth, the slide of his tongue against mine—as though I was a prisoner about to embark on a life sentence who would never get to experience this again.
I closed my eyes and leaned into the way his fingers dragged through my hair, and he hummed in approval.
We deepened the kiss until it could have gone either way, and then Trey pulled back with a small regretful laugh. “I have to pack, baby.”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I guess I know where your priorities lie, don’t I?”
He smacked me on the ass as he left the room, and I pretended to be outraged.
I hung around in the living room for a while, breathing in the quiet and the calm but thinking fondly of the night before, when everything had been bright and loud and messy.
It gave me an ache in my chest that could have almost been mistaken for a genuine emotion when I thought of how a bunch of the guys had put their plans on hold, or changed them and come back to the house, just so they could celebrate Christmas with me.
Or Fratmas.
Whatever it was called, it felt nicer than I knew how to deal with. I almost wished Marty had left some of the mess behind, just as a reminder while I was staying here alone. But then I’d be stuck cleaning up, so on balance, maybe not.
“Hey, Scout! Get up here!” Trey called.
I went upstairs to see what the problem was. Although maybe there was no problem. Maybe he’d finished packing and wanted to fool around before he left, which I could definitely get on board with.
But when I walked into the bedroom, I was greeted by the sight of Trey holding two of my hoodies. “You want me to pack one or both of these?” he asked.
“Why are you stealing my hoodies?” I asked. “Wait. Is this meant to be one of those boyfriend things, like when Briar steals Casey’s shirts?”
Trey gave me a look. “Not for me. For you.”
What? “I’m already packed,” I said.
“You’re packed for DC. This is for when you come home with me for Christmas.”
I saw my small weekender bag sitting open on the bed, partially packed. My stomach clenched. “Trey, we already—”
“Scout,” he said firmly. “I love you, and you love me, and what sort of asshole would I be if I let my boyfriend stay here alone for Christmas? So either you get in the car with me and come home to my parents and my sister—who all think the sun shines out of your ass, by the way—or I guess we’re both staying here.
” He folded his arms over his chest, my hoodies still dangling from his hands. “Your choice, baby.”
“I don’t want to be an imposition.”
“Did you hear the part where I said I love you? You’re not an imposition, Scout. You’re my boyfriend and spending time with you makes me happy, just so we’re clear.”
“But your family isn’t expecting me.” I was clutching at straws and we both knew it.
“Yeah, they are. I already spoke to them. So tell me, are you going to be the one who calls my mom and tells her you’re refusing to come to Christmas with my family? Because that will not be a fun call to make.”
“Trey…”
He closed the space between us, dropping my hoodies.
He caught my hands. “Scout, I know this formal etiquette bullshit is hardwired in you, and let me tell you, that’s gonna come in real useful in the future, with your career and mine too.
But this isn’t about that. This is about now.
This is about Christmas. And I want you to come, and my family wants you to come, and I think that deep down you want to come too, so why the hell wouldn’t you? ”
Trey Montgomery was going to be a hell of a lawyer one day, because suddenly I couldn’t think of a single reasonable counterargument.
And I didn’t want to. All my stupid resistance collapsed like a house of cards, and I let it happen.
I didn’t want to spend Christmas alone, and I did need Trey, and I didn’t care if he knew it.
Because he’d always fucking known it anyway, hadn’t he?
“The blue one,” I said, nodding over his shoulder at the hoodies.
Trey’s smile was a little smug, but mostly relieved. “Yeah, that one looks good on you.”
I shrugged. “Everything looks good on me, Trey.”
“That’s good to know,” Trey said, grinning. “Because my mom has matching Christmas sweaters waiting for us at the house.”
“Oh, absolutely not,” I said, pulling my hands away. “There are limits.”
“But, Scout, how will you be in the annual Montgomery family photos if you’re not wearing your ugly Christmas sweater?
” He leaned in and kissed me, which took away a little of the sting of knowing there was a hideous fashion crime in my near future.
When he pulled back, his eyes were sparkling. “Merry Christmas, Scout.”
And I knew what the answer should have been, but there was plenty of time to say it back to him in the coming days, and besides, I’d discovered something new that I needed to say. So I said that instead, just to hear the sound of it out in the world. “I love you.”
And it sounded perfect, even before he echoed it back to me.