Epilogue
Jesse
“Come on, Baloney! Get that sexy ass of yours a’moving.”
I really love it when he does that perturbed eyebrow arch now. Does he think it instills any fear in me?
Silly Murph. He’s so whooped. He loves me too much to kick me in the bussy.
Yeah. I looked it up. And then I channeled Dixon Dallas and made him kiss it to apologize. Highly recommend. Five stars on Yep.
Taking his sweet-ass time, he finally opens Delores’ passenger door and tosses a stack of Christmas cards on the seat before climbing in.
“It’s our first holiday with our families as a couple. I wanted to make sure I look alright.”
“I didn’t say anything! I just came out to warm up the truck for you, so it’d be nice and cozy. I’m a good boyfriend like that.”
Side-eyeing me, he looks amused. “You sure like saying that word.”
“Don’t you?”
“Yeah, and I like hearing it. It’s just… still surreal, I guess.”
Aw. My big tender bear. Leaning over, I press my lips to his for a hot minute. “Well, get used to it. You’re mine. I’ve got the button to prove it.”
Tapping the button pinned to my sweater, I flash him a wink. I’ve always enjoyed witnessing that flicker in his expression when I can crack his deadpan exterior and get a laugh out of him.
“You’re going to wear your Gaytoberfest cruise button to Christmas dinner at Pete and Cam’s?”
“Hey, I earned it. We earned it.” Popping Delores into drive, I wave to Charlotte as she gets into her SUV to follow us. “I figure if there’re questions about how we got together, this will be a nice conversation piece.”
I thought that was a clever idea, but he sobers. “You’re not nervous? I know you said you told Cam, but we haven’t been together around your family since Thanksgiving.”
Reaching over, I grab his hand. Maybe it’s because I don’t like being reminded of Thanksgiving, but mostly, I think it’s because I like holding his hand when he’s worried.
“Nah. I told you already—I told Cam, which means Cam told Pete. And I then told Mom that we’re dating, which means she told the entire planet. You’ve heard of telegrams? Well, the only thing as efficient is Tell-A-Lorraine.”
“I still can’t believe you told her in the middle of the grocery store,” he mumbles, looking out his window.
“Why not? I knew it’d be like killing fourteen birds with one stone. Literally, I think her entire quilting club was in there that day and heard her squeal. She might as well have gone on the overhead speaker and announced, ‘Bisexual! Aisle three!’ So, it was effective.”
“You told her there on purpose? You left that part out.”
“I want everyone to know you’re mine, and I’m sorry, but I have better ways to spend my winter than going door-to-door in Wenatchee. Okay?”
He’s quiet. Why is he quiet?
Taking my eyes off the road, I find the cutest love drunk smile on his face. He really shouldn’t do that. It’s a driving hazard.
“What?”
“Nothing.” Shaking his head, I can tell he’s trying to hide what I just saw as he looks out the windshield and squeezes my hand. His eyes narrow, though, like he’s fixed on something up ahead.
“Jesse?”
“Yeah?”
“Are those… my underwear?”
The navy blue checkered fabric swings from my rearview like a giant deflated balloon. Technically, they’re a driving hazard, but I haven’t been pulled over for them yet. They match the color of Delores so well, it just seemed fortuitous when I found them kicked underneath my bed the other day. Finders keepers. I guess that makes me an underwear thief. Maybe I should say, finders creepers instead.
Whatever. They’re mine now. And, honestly, I’m surprised it took him so long to notice. For an outdoorsman, he’s not very observant sometimes.
I give my dashboard a loving pat. “Delores needed an upgrade.”
“Did you write on them?”
“Favorite son-in-law,” I inform him. “Now, whenever I clean Delores and wash them, Lorraine will know whose they are.”
“Jesse… I don’t need your mom washing my underwear.”
“It’s fine! She loves doing laundry. It’s her maternal instinct to care for me, and this way she won’t give them to Frank. If my dad wore them, I’d have to burn them and steal another pair.”
That seems to settle that silly disagreement because he just shakes his head again and doesn’t say anything the rest of the way to Pete and Cam’s place. I love that he accepts when I’m right.
Whatever silly premonitions he had about showing up together are toppled when we walk in and my mother greets us with open arms. “Oh, my boys! This makes me so happy,” she says, cupping Murph’s face and kissing his cheek.
Is he blushing? Ha! Mister Can-you-hold-my-hand-in-public is blushing. Shit. Guess I’d better save him.
Mom goes in for a hug to go with that cheek kiss, but I stick my arm in between them to hugblock her. “Hands off, Lorraine. Get your own man.”
It’s kind of disappointing what a lack of interest there is over my cruise ship story. Everyone seems more interested in kindly interrogating Cam’s brother, Randy, or making small talk with his mom. I’m glad someone from his side showed up after what went down with his family when they found out he was dating Pete, but hello! I wore my button and everything! Such bullshit.
No matter. I don’t need to gush about Murph. I think I much prefer having him all to myself on this couch now that dinner’s over. He finally loosened up halfway through the meal and slung his arm over the back of my chair. Now, it’s right where it should be—holding me close.
Letting out another food groan, I sigh as we stare at the Christmas tree in Pete and Cam’s front parlor that doubles as their business office. Tracing gentle circles over Murph’s stomach, I watch my niece and nephew play with the train set underneath the tree.
Miranda walks over, sipping her adult beverage, and watches the entertainment for a while too. When she glances over at us, she rolls her eyes and smirks.
“You’re disgusting,” she informs me, but it’s not an insult. I know because she moves in and ruffles Murph’s hair, giving him an affectionate smile before sauntering off.
She’s right. I am. Disgustingly happy.
“That is the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,” I call after her. “Thank you.”
I sense a formidable presence, the kind that’s usually a huge dick. Yup. It’s Pete.
Has he been leaning in the doorway, staring at us this entire time? What did I do—leave a ring on his dining table from my glass or something?
No. That can’t be it. I put a napkin down. Despite what I let him think, I actually make an effort not to trigger him. So, what the heck is he eyeballing us for?
You know what? I don’t even care.
I nestle closer to Murph. Murph warmth is the best warmth.
“Our tree is way better,” I murmur against his chest, thinking about the one we put up at my house, although I’m happy to say I think it’s becoming our house, aside from the occasional night we spend at his mom’s. Thursdays with Charlotte—meatloaf and Breathless. They really should have let me in on that years ago.
“We barely have any ornaments on ours,” Murph counters.
“Yeah, but it’s taller, and we chopped it down by hand in the woods. We didn’t buy it from a lot, which I guarantee is what Pete did. He has a thing about sap.”
“We chopped it down? I distinctly recall not only carrying the axe, but doing all the chopping.”
“You looked good doing it. I was enjoying the view. I did get the tree stand out of my attic, though.”
“This is true,” he concedes.
His fingers card through my hair, making me wish we were home, curled up in bed. Mom announces that it’s time to open gifts, though, and everyone crowds into the sitting area. Snuggle time will have to wait a few more hours.
Pete takes a place on the couch with Cam next to me and Murph. He looks over at me suspiciously, as though I’m a stranger.
“Merry Christmas,” he all but mutters, giving me a nod.
Wow. That was almost the equivalent of a hug for him.
“Back at ya, bro.” Lifting my head, I call out to Cam, “Nice shindig. You outdid yourself, Cam.”
“Oh, thanks. I think the stuffing was a little overdone. It was too dry, but at least I got the turkey right.”
“Everything was fine,” Pete tells him affectionately, squeezing his knee.
They’re so ridiculous. Sitting up, I accept some gifts from my niece, who’s playing Christmas elf. I feel like I’m being watched again. This time, it isn’t Pete whose scrutiny I’m under.
“What?” I chuff, getting a rush of adrenaline when my niece plops my gift for Murph in his lap.
Do you know how difficult it was to find an entire set of ABBA bobblehead dolls? He’s going to love them. Now, Lasso Ted won’t be lonely.
“You haven’t given your brother shit once today,” he whispers. “Are you feeling alright?”
Just as he asks, Pete hands him a card, and says, “Happy holidays, Murphy. Nice to have you here as family this year. I hope we keep seeing you.”
“Uh, thanks.” Murph flusters adorably. “Very happy to be here.”
Glancing at me, his surprise over the compliment is evident. If Pete wants to be kind to me via Murph, I can more than live with that.
“See?” I challenge. “That’s why. There’s no joy in messing with him anymore.”
“Why? Because he’s so happy?”
Possibly, I surmise to myself, but I realize Murph is right. Screwing with Pete wasn’t even on my radar today.
“No. Because I am.”
The misty-eyed look he gives me after I peck him on the cheek tells me he understands he’s the reason why. Apple season is going to be so much more fun next year.
“Merry Christmas, Jesse,” he whispers, threading his fingers through mine.
“Merry Christmas. Best Christmas ever.”
As we wait for the rest of the gifts to be handed out, I take stock of all the love and happiness in the room. It reminds me of the contrast of being miserable not so long ago.
“Hey, I wonder what Philip’s doing for Christmas.”
“From the cruise?” Murph laughs in disbelief.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Now that I know what it’s like to be in love, I kind of feel sorry for him. I did win his man, after all.”
Rolling his eyes, Murph starts tearing the paper on my gift. “Well, with any luck, he’s spending it with this guy Tom I met on the first day of the cruise. I saw them together when we were debarking on the last day. They looked… oddly perfect together.”
“Really?”
“Why so hopeful? I didn’t know you were that invested in the guy’s happiness.”
“I’m not, but it’s cool they were happy.” I shrug. “I mean, I’m not saying he deserves to be as happy as us. He did hiss at me after all. And touch you. A lot. Okay, forget I said anything. I hope they break up.”
An arm hooks around my neck and leverages me so I’m in a headlock against Murph’s shoulder. He plants a hard kiss on my forehead.
Why is he laughing? That shit wasn’t funny, even before I knew I wanted him.
“Jesse Carver, don’t ever change.”