Gabe went willingly, wrapping his arms around Mark’s neck. “You haven’t seen the cheap bottle of wine I got her.”
“Is it chardonnay?”
“Yep.”
“Then she’ll love you anyway.” Mark’s smile was contagious, and Gabe couldn’t help but grin back at him. Mark leaned forward and nipped at Gabe’s bottom lip making Gabe groan. It had been more than a week since they’d really kissed, and Gabe was thirsty for it. He tried to deepen the kiss but Mark pulled away.
“Are you nervous about meeting my family?” His smile was still there, but it had become a little sad, a little wistful.
“No,” Gabe lied.
Mark’s smile brightened immediately. “You are sure you’re not contagious, right?”
“Cleared by Dr. WebMD.”
“Good enough for me.”
Gabe surged forward to meet Mark’s mouth, sliding his fingers into Mark’s hair. He’d missed this. Not just the kissing, or the sex, but the closeness of it. Having Mark dote over him while he was sick was a particular kind of intimacy, but this was more comfortable. Gabe knew what to do with lust.
He closed the short distance between them and brought his chest flush with Mark’s. Gripping his ass, Mark held them tightly together as his tongue swept into Gabe’s mouth. They kissed and groped until they were both panting and hard. A spontaneous makeout session was a great way to get in the holiday spirit.
Mark pulled back first, pressing a few closed-mouth kisses to Gabe’s lips and chin. “We should get going.”
It was a good thing Gabe was getting over being sick. He could pretend the pounding of his heart and the spike of nausea in his stomach were new symptoms.
“Okay. Let’s go.”
December 24th
THE BANG AND clatter of pots and pans woke Gabe before his alarm. He had set it for a respectable 9:30AM, not wanting to sleep in on his first day with Mark’s family but also not wanting Mark to fuss at him over not getting enough rest. He’d slept most of the drive, letting Mark humming along to Christmas music on the radio lull him into a nap. He shouldn’t need more sleep.
He took a deep inhale through his nose and, shockingly, could actually breathe. He’d take some more cold meds just in case, but he was only a little sick now, so Mark should have nothing to fuss about. Losing Mark’s concern over his health was a bit sad, but it filled Gabe with warmth that Mark cared so much.
The banging from below continued. Mark was nowhere to be seen which left Gabe in the awkward position of needing to decide what to do next. It seemed rude to take a shower in someone else’s house before you actually met them.
Traffic had made them later than planned the night before, but Gabe had napped through most of it. The house was dark and quiet when they pulled up. Mark gave him a quick tour in the mostly dark before they went to bed, so he could at least find the bathroom. The tour was quick not only because they were trying to not wake anyone up, but because the house was small. Like, really small.
The front door led into the kitchen. A very 1990s country kitsch sort of kitchen with a wallpaper border of chickens and herbs above the cabinets. Definitely not what he’d anticipated based on Mark’s sense of style. A small bathroom was squeezed in behind the kitchen with a laundry room across the hall. An open doorway connected the kitchen to a living room filled with overstuffed furniture and dark wood paneling. Gabe had noticed a fireplace the night before but wasn’t sure if it got any use. The only lights still burning when they arrived were a harsh fluorescent bulb over the sink and the glow of the Christmas tree.
The tree stood next to the cold fireplace, multicolored lights twinkling. Gabe hadn’t been sure in the dark, but it didn’t look like a real tree. He caught a glimpse of ornaments made by children’s shaky hands mixed in with cheap red and silver glass balls.
Mark’s mother’s room was on the first floor, on the other side of the living room. A carpeted staircase led up to two bedrooms with a bathroom shared between them. Mark had ushered him to the bedroom on the right. The door on the left was firmly closed.
“Jess’s room,” Mark had whispered as he closed the door behind them, locking the two of them into a private haven.
This had been Mark’s room when he lived here. The relics of childhood were still around, but tamed. No posters taped to the walls or forgotten stacks of adventure books sitting around. The room was painted a tasteful light gray with a newer dark wood bedroom set arranged in the small space. Some trophies sat on the dresser, and a picture of Mark in some sports uniform hung on the wall. Gabe had been too tired to catch the details last night.
He checked now. It looked like lacrosse, but Gabe wasn’t sure. Mark held a stick with a net on the end, and that was lacrosse, right?
It was strange to see Mark’s face so young. No creases outlined his broad smile. His hair wasn’t streaked with silver. He still had the same startlingly clear blue eyes. He looked like the kind of boy Gabe would have crushed on in high school but never spoken to. Hell, Mark still looked like that.
Another benefit of Cruised, the hookup app that had brought them together. Gabe and Mark talked before they met. Gabe was already smitten before he laid eyes on Mark. Maybe Mark had been too.
Gabe couldn’t wait to see more old pictures of Mark. Did he have acne? There wasn’t any in the lacrosse picture. Who did he take to prom, if he even went?
The ceiling sloped down on the sides of the room, making it feel like the top of a barn or a loft. Somewhere without a lot of headroom. The bed sat under a window opposite the door, so at least he didn’t have to worry about hitting his head when he stood up. Mark would need to duck if he walked anywhere but down the center of the room. Gabe hadn’t noticed that last night.
It would probably be best to get dressed and go downstairs. Brush his teeth but skip the shower until introductions were made, at least. He swung his feet over the side of the bed and pulled on yesterday’s khakis. They weren’t too badly wrinkled.
“Morning,” Mark said, leaning against the doorjamb. Gabe hadn’t even heard him come upstairs.
“Hey. How’d you know I was awake?”
Mark pushed himself away from the wall and walked to the bed way more gracefully than he had a right to. It was absolutely unfair that he was so effortlessly sexy. Someday, Gabe would punish him by ignoring it. But not today. Mark sat on the edge of the bed, next to him, and Gabe slid his hand around the curve of Mark’s thigh.
“Heard you downstairs. We’re above the kitchen, and there isn’t a lot of insulation.”
Suddenly self-conscious, Gabe ducked his head. “Oh.”
“Don’t worry. Jess’s room is above Mom’s. That’s much worse.” Mark kissed his temple. “You want to take a shower before you come down?”
Yes. “No, I’ll just brush my teeth and wash my face. I can shower later.” Gabe realized he had no idea of their plans. There might not be a chance to shower. What if they’d been waiting for him to get up? “Right? I mean, there’ll be time?”
Mark flopped backward on the bed and laced his hands behind his head. “Yeah, there’s no schedule today. Jess is here now, but Darrin and the boys are coming after lunch. Tomorrow there’ll be a bigger crowd.”
“A bigger crowd? Here?” Gabe did the math. He and Mark plus Jess and her family plus Mark’s mom meant five adults and three kids in a house this size. How were more people supposed to fit?
“Only for the day. Uncle Gareth and Aunt Susan and their daughter, Holly, and her kids, and I think one of Darrin’s brothers is coming, but I’m not sure which one. And one or two of Mom’s friends from church.” Mark shrugged, as if having so many people around was normal.
Was this what it was like to take on someone else’s holiday traditions? Gabe viscerally missed his family’s very boring, quiet Christmases, but being here with Mark was important. He wanted to experience Mark’s family holiday in all its overwhelming glory.
A strip of pale, hair-dusted skin appeared along Mark’s be
lly, the consequence of his sweater riding up when he stretched out across the bed. Gabe kissed it. “We should go down.”
Mark arched an eyebrow at Gabe’s bare chest. “You should put on a shirt.”
“I was going to.” Gabe rolled his eyes. “Don’t need to shock your mom too badly right away.”
“She’s a tough old broad. She can take it.” Mark stood up, tugging his sweater back in place, much to Gabe’s dismay. He did stoop a little, standing in his oddly shaped childhood room. It seemed like an unconscious reaction, something he did even if he wasn’t near the low ceiling.
A lump lodged in Gabe’s throat seeing Mark like this, sliding back into behaviors Gabe had never seen but were obviously part of him. He was getting a more complete picture of the man he spent all his time with, that he had deeper feelings for than anyone else. It was strange seeing these unexpected pieces of Mark coming to the surface, yet those pieces were all familiar.
He glanced at the lacrosse pictures. He wouldn’t have guessed Mark played sports, especially such a bougie white-boy sport, but it made sense. Mark was athletic, graceful, and charming. Exactly the kind of person who would have been an athlete in high school. The surprising information slotted perfectly into place.
He’d ask Mark whether it really was lacrosse later.
“COME ON, SIT down. There’s a quiche for breakfast, but I can make you something else if you’d like.”
This was where Mark got his fussing from then. Gabe wasn’t used to so much attention.
“Ah, thanks Mrs.—”
“Oh, call me Candace. No Mrs. nonsense.”
Gabe lowered himself to the chair Mark had pulled out for him. Right at the head of the table, next to the stove. The air in the kitchen was already warm and thick. Mark sat next to him and stretched his legs out until his feet nearly peeked out on the other side of the table.
Candace came at Gabe with a huge slice of quiche on a tiny plate. “Or did you want eggs? I can make you eggs instead.”
“Mom, quiche is eggs.”
She huffed at Mark. “I know that, but it’s also spinach, and ham, and cheese, and some peppers. Maybe Gabe doesn’t like spinach.” She turned to Gabe, looking far more concerned than she should be about a stranger’s breakfast. “Do you like spinach?”
“No, no. All of that sounds fine. I’d love quiche.” He couldn’t help but smile at her. She seemed like the mom out of a movie. Shorter and rounder than he’d expected, especially considering the build of her two children, with snow-white hair arranged in a sort of complicated poof on top of her head, and blue eyes a shade or two darker than Mark’s. She was older than Gabe had expected, too, probably close to eighty years old but energetic. She fussed and hovered and randomly stirred things or took items out of the fridge while Gabe ate. She checked on him every few minutes and brought him orange juice without asking.
The coddling and constant attention was strange. Not bad, exactly. But his own parents were straightforward and practical. Not unloving, but if you didn’t like quiche, you’d make your own eggs or wait until lunch. It was different, and comparing the two families all through the visit wasn’t going to make Gabe feel any less awkward.
Candace and Mark talked about plans for the next few days, what Candace might need from the grocery store, and gifts they’d gotten for Jess’s children. Gabe mostly listened, finding the easy back-and-forth between mother and son comforting.
He pushed his plate away, leaving only the crust behind. Mark picked up his plate with a wink, spun around to the sink, and flicked on the water. It took Gabe a moment to realize there was no dishwasher. He hadn’t noticed before. He wanted to take over for Mark, embarrassed he wasn’t washing his own dishes, but it seemed like stopping your boyfriend from washing a single plate and fork would draw more attention than not doing it yourself. Looking at how many dirty or soon-to-be dirty dishes were crammed on the countertop and stove, Gabe made a mental note to wash dishes later.
“We’re glad your family could spare you for Christmas, Gabe,” Candace said over her shoulder as she opened the oven to check on something. It smelled like turkey?
Gabe sat up taller in his seat. “Yeah, they’re in France, so I wasn’t going to see them anyway.”
Turkey apparently going as planned, Candace turned to him. She rested her hands on the back of an unoccupied chair. “France? That sounds like a nice place to spend Christmas.”
Mark knew all of this but apparently hadn’t told his mother. He had nothing secret or scandalous to hide, but answering questions about his family felt like an interview. Something he could fail, especially since it was obvious Mark’s family was so different from his own.
“Oh, they live there. My mom was born in France but came to the US as a kid. She and my dad went back when I was in college to take care of my grandmama. After she passed, they decided to stay.” He sipped his orange juice for something to do with his hands.
The water cut off, and Mark turned to face Gabe. He stood behind his mother so she couldn’t see his teasing grin, enjoying Gabe’s discomfort. Clearly, Mark wasn’t going to come to his rescue. Asshole, Gabe thought, but his favorite kind of asshole.
Candace sat next to him, taking Mark’s previous seat. “Do you get to visit them sometimes?”
“Not really. Not in years. We Skype a lot though.”
“A lot” was relative. A couple times a month? That could be a lot, right?
Mark rested his hands on Candace’s shoulders, giving them a squeeze. When they were both standing, he was probably a foot taller than his mom. He loomed over her as she sat. “Don’t pester. We’ll be here for days.”
“I’m not pestering. I just want to get to know the boy, that’s all.”
“He’s not a boy.”
She reached across the table and patted Gabe’s cheek. “But he’s got such a babyface.”
Gabe laughed. If they’d been alone, he would have called Mark an old man. But pointing out their twelve-year age difference might not be the right thing to do in front of Candace. Gabe still wasn’t sure of that.
Mark rolled his eyes, and even though Candace couldn’t see, it was like she knew. “Stop making faces. Stir the pot on the back burner; it’s pie filling.”
He gave another squeeze to Candace’s shoulders and retreated to the stove. Instead of turning his back on Gabe and Candace at the table, Mark stood sideways, leaning his broad shoulders against the wall, while he stirred the pot and watched Gabe with a small smile. Mark’s eyes were full of something Gabe couldn’t place.
“What?” Gabe asked.
Mark shrugged, and his smile grew a little bigger. “Nothing. Just enjoy having you here. That’s all.”
The sweetness of it smacked Gabe square in the chest, followed quickly by embarrassment. He would never have said something so emotional in front of his own mom. They loved each other, but they weren’t sharing kind of people. Having Mark express unfiltered feelings in front of Candace made Gabe stutter with awkwardness.
“Yes, we’re glad to have you. It’s been more than twenty years since Mark brought someone home for Christmas.”
Awkwardness fell away as Gabe scented an embarrassing story in the air. “Really?”
“Mom—”
“Keep stirring until I tell you to stop,” Candace snapped. Turning back to Gabe, she became all motherly affection again. “When Mark was twenty-one, he brought home a boy he’d met at college. None of us liked him. Well, Jess hated him immediately, but I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. Ben, Mark’s dad, was still with us back then and wasn’t impressed either…”
Gabe listened to Candace’s very biased story about how this unnamed boyfriend was obviously not right for Mark, how they all knew it, and how he eventually broke Mark’s heart with a smile on his face. Mark chimed in here and there to add details or correct Candace’s memory. They laughed about that uncomfortable Christmas together, all three of them.
Mark stirred the pie filling, probably
way more than it needed, only abandoning it to give Gabe a quick kiss at a particularly funny part in the story of his first disastrous breakup.
Candace patted the back of Gabe’s hand. “Well, anyway, we’re glad you’re here.”
Gabe was too.
HE HAD NOT expected the adults to be louder than the children. Mark’s nephews, three of them somewhere between three and five feet tall, Gabe had no idea how to tell children’s ages, were content to watch TV and play video games.
The rest of the family, however, were not so content with quiet activities. Mark, Jess, Darrin and Gabe sat around the table, elbows knocking together, while Mark tried to teach Gabe some treasured family card game.
“It’s sort of like Rummy, but not quite,” Mark explained.
“That doesn’t help.”
Darrin laughed at them and started to shuffle. The massive stack of well-worn cards flew between his fingers.
“There’s more than one deck of cards?”
“Yes.” Mark wrote each of their names on the top of a notepad. “Mom? You in?”
Candace hesitated, obviously torn. “No, I’ve still got some things to do. And I might go sit with the boys. You teach Gabe, and we’ll play again before you leave.”
“Do you need help with something, Mom?” Jess was halfway out of her chair before she finished asking. She sank back as Candace waved her off.
“No, no. Just going to do some tidying and get gifts under the tree.”
Candace disappeared into the living room at the same time Darrin did something complicated with the cards, drawing Gabe’s attention.
“Okay, so, there are ten hands and in each hand you’re trying to get something different. The first hand is three sets—”
“A set is three of a kind,” Mark said.
Gabe must have looked as confused as he felt because Jess leaned across the table, frowning at him. “You don’t know what a set is?”
Gabe shook his head, bewildered. “I’m not much of a card player.”
Holiday Gridlock Page 2