Chapter 34 Clem
clem
The aroma of fresh-brewed coffee wakes me from my slumber. Stealing a look at the clock, it’s just after five. Why is this man up so early, making coffee? Is he trying to wake the boys up even earlier than they usually get up?
The door to my room creaks open, and I expect Jace but am pleasantly surprised when it’s Dax.
“Merry Christmas,” he whispers, the huskiness of his morning voice ringing through.
Clad in a pair of flannel PJ pants and a holiday long-sleeve, he enters the room carrying two steaming mugs of coffee.
Setting them down on the nightstand on what I refer to as his side of the bed, he pulls me to sit up.
“Merry Christmas, Mr. Nicholas. Gotta pee. Be right back.” He steals a kiss before I scurry from the room.
After he dismissed Keith in the most epic way last night, claiming me and the boys as his, he helped the boys set out their treats for Santa, regaling them with stories of what he and his siblings did as kids.
Of course, my boys wanted to do them all, but he reined them in, sticking with sprinkling “reindeer food” on the lawn.
It involved oats, glitter, and something about directing the reindeer to know where to land.
And this man thinks he’s bad with kids? When he mentioned something about “next year,” Atlas grew pensive.
“You’re going to be here next year?” to which Dax replied, “And the one after that. If that’s okay with you and Jace. ”
“And Mama. She’s the boss,” Jace piped up.
“A mighty fine one, if you ask me,” he replied.
It brought me to tears, which I hid only from the kids.
Once they went to bed, he refused to leave, helping me set out the gifts I’d bought, adding a few of his own to the pile.
For the third time, we had sex, though it was different.
Slow, drawn-out, loving, solidifying the change in our relationship.
He then slept on the couch, wanting to be here the minute the boys woke up.
Not once in Atlas’s entire life had Keith been excited for Christmas morning. He didn’t care about waking up early to see his or Jace’s excitement, to be a part of the holiday. I long gave up on having a partner who’d share in the joy of seeing Christmas through my kids’ eyes.
Until Dax.
Now, he’s more into it than I am, and I’m here for it. I’m here for everything with this man.
When I return, he’s tucked into the bed. “At the risk of my children waking up at any time, I’m glad you’re here to cuddle.”
“What would they say if they found me here?” he wonders. It’s mostly rhetorical, but there’s a part of him that’s serious. He hasn’t come out and said we should live together, but the subtle hints are there. When the man commits to something, he’s “all fucking in” on every aspect.
“It probably wouldn’t faze Jace. Atlas would be a harder sell. Though you heard his comments about his future brother.”
I don’t even want to think about the fact that my eight-year-old knows what a shitty father he has.
I suppose it would have happened at some point, but I wish he were a little older when he figured it out.
Or maybe it’s better this way. Especially with Dax in our lives.
He’s also got Beckett, my dad, and other members of the Nicholas family.
He’s going to be okay. I’ll make sure of it.
“I don’t want to make him or you uncomfortable. Until we’re ready to move in together.”
I don’t take his bait, but I ask, “Hypothetically, how would that work?”
“You and me sharing a bed so that when I go to bed, you’re there, and when I wake up, you’re there.”
Shifting my position, I sit cross-legged facing him. “Where, though? Here? Your place?”
“How about somewhere that’s ours? How long is your lease?”
“One year, but I read somewhere I can probably get out of it if need be if I give some notice. The landlord talked about putting it on the market at some point. Not sure what the status is on that.”
I’m talking like I could afford to buy a house, this house especially. It’s serving the purpose for this season of life, but it’s not a forever home. It’s too small. Eventually, I want the boys to have their own rooms.
“I don’t have much, but enough for a small down payment. If we pool our resources, maybe we can make it happen.”
His words bring about a bout of nerves. Not because I don’t want to live with the man, but because it’s fast. More careless than some other decisions I’ve made in my life.
“I’m not sure I can or should rush into buying a house. Or even living with someone else. No offense to you. It’s more of a me situation. I’m just getting adjusted to life in Vermont, being on my own with the boys. I want to make sure I can stand on my feet before I leap into living with you.”
“Give me a timeline. So I can start looking for places, saving more money, preparing my parents for my departure.”
I think he’s kidding on the last one, but he’s dead serious.
“You don’t think they’re planning a party the minute you say you’re leaving?” I hold back my laughter, but he’s a tad delusional.
“They enjoy having me there.”
“Sure.”
He blinks, his lips set in a firm line. “And they trust me as a tenant, know I’ll keep the place neat and not trash it.”
“Makes sense.” I’m on the verge of a giggle fest, but I can’t let him know it. I tuck my lips into my mouth to hopefully control it.
“They’re gonna be sad to see me go. But I think it’ll go easier when I tell them I’m moving in with you and the boys. They’ll be glad there’s someone to protect you.”
That’s when I lose it. A laugh so deep and rumbly tears out of me. I cover it with my hand so as not to wake the boys.
“You’re ridiculous,” I manage through the hysterics.
“Can you prove me wrong?” he challenges with a brow quirk.
I settle myself, pondering his question. “Well, no. I suppose not.”
“I rest my case.”
The boys’ door opens, and footsteps pad out to the living room. “Wow,” Jace observes, his voice full of amazement.
“Guess it’s time to get this day started. Buckle up. It’s gonna be a long one,” I warn.
Before we can move, Jace throws open my door. “Mama. Mama. Santa came.” His eyes are huge as he looks between Dax and me. I suck in a breath, waiting for the comments, the questions, the upset to come. But when nothing does, I let it go. “Dax, you’re here early for breakfast.”
I forget he’s innocent. Less is more. If we make it a big deal, he’ll think it’s a big deal. If we play it nonchalantly, he’ll be more inclined to go with the flow.
“Yeah. I was too excited to sleep. Hope that’s okay.”
Jace nods, his eyes falling to Dax’s pajama bottoms. “Santa Stitch. I want some.”
Dax holds out a leg. “So cool, right?”
“Yep.” Without hesitation, he climbs up onto my bed between the two of us.
If he thinks it’s weird to find Dax in my bed, he doesn’t let it show.
“Atlas is still asleep, but when my eyes popped open, I had to see what Santa brought.” Excitement oozes off him, he can barely contain it.
“A bike. There’s a bike with my name on it.
” He pushes to his knees, bouncing on the bed.
He’s going to wake Atlas, but I don’t have the heart to tell him to lower his voice.
What does it matter at this point if Atlas wakes up?
“No way. You had it on your list.”
“Guess Santa got my letter. Can I ride it today?”
“Probably not.” I don’t let an ounce of guilt filter in about the cold weather here versus North Carolina. No doubt he’d be able to ride if we still lived there.
“Soon as it’s a little warmer out, I’ll take you where my dad taught me.” Dax’s offer is genuine and sweet, and I love how he’s always sharing his history with me and the boys. Traditions run strong in his family. I want that for my boys.
“Great, but I know how to ride. I don’t even need training wheels.”
Dax looks over his head at me, confirming what he says to be true. “He’s been riding since he was four without them. He just needed a bigger bike.”
“No teaching. Just riding. Might have to dig my bike out of the shed, too.”
“Yes,” Jace agrees with a nod.
Atlas appears at the doorway, his gaze volleying between the three of us.
“Merry Christmas, Attie.”
“Dax came over so early because he was too excited to sleep. And look at his pajamas.” Jace points to Dax’s leg, as if Atlas could miss them.
My breath hitches waiting for his response, Jace’s unplanned explanation exactly the words I couldn’t say.
“Did you bring the pancakes and sprinkles?” Atlas asks, directing his question to Dax.
“Yep, was waiting on you. Or we could eat after we open presents.”
The words flow from his mouth as if this were an everyday occurrence.
He doesn’t even have to make something up, to make excuses for something he forgot, to think about how to handle the situation.
It’s intuitive. Natural. Like he was made for this.
Being part of the family, even if not from the beginning.
Maybe it’s fast and easy because it’s what’s meant to be.
A trail of torn holiday paper collects on the living room floor after being ripped off the wrapped presents, the boys oohing and aahing at the gifts. New video games for the gaming console, Lego sets, arts and crafts, books, some new clothes—warmer for a Vermont winter—and board games.
Dax bought the boys a pair of matching PJ pants. The minute they were open, Jace handed them to me and insisted I take the tag off so he could wear them. Given the holiday and his adorable need to match Dax, I couldn’t say no. Not wanting to be left out, Atlas did the same.
“Where’s mine?” I asked, totally kidding. But when Dax handed me a wrapped present, I was giddy to match my guys.
Dax and all.
The tree casts a glowing light in the room, pancakes with sprinkles have been devoured, and I’m a little tipsy from Dax’s holiday mimosa. We eventually have to head to the Nicholases for brunch, but until then, the boys want to enjoy their gifts.