by David Connor
“It was there… on the news. Noah Netherland even mentioned it. Mom told me Spencer wasn’t the only one who got that look. She showed me a picture, Daddy, of you holding me the night I was born, of you sitting by my bedside when I broke my arm at cheerleading camp, and one when I told you guys Troy and I were expecting. Mom’s not jealous of it anymore. She swears she’s over it, and I… How can I be so bratty to keep you from the person you love so much?”
“The way we were fighting against each other the whole time, it was like one of those movies she makes me watch.” Troy snuggled up to her. “Our love for each other made it all happily ever after, though.”
If it wasn’t so adorable, Spencer may have wretched. “So you kids are good?” he asked.
“Totally. I’m pretty sure he’d have brought me around, like Joey from Blossom did Sabrina the Teenage Witch in Hitched for the Holidays.”
Spencer shook his head. “You two watch too much TV. You really need to find something else to do with yourselves.”
Isabelle turned to her dad, knocking over a bowl of crushed peppermints with her belly in the process.
“Um, strike that,” Spencer said.
By Christmas Eve, all but two cakes had been delivered and baked. Kevin and Stefan’s wedding was scheduled for the day after Christmas, with the final Twelve Gays of Christmas ceremony scheduled for New Year’s Eve, and one more in between. Rex and Charlie, the first to wed, had sent honeymoon pictures to Holiday Bakery’s Facebook page, and some rather explicit personal ones that would later appear on their porn site to Spencer via direct message.
“I knew it!” Spencer said, as he showed them to Getty.
“Damn! Not as hot as you half naked on the news, but… Damn!”
Stefan and Kevin dropped by Christmas Eve afternoon to offer final approval on their three cakes. “What a surprise,” Stefan said bitterly. “It’s not at all like what we ordered.”
“Let me guess.” Troy stepped between his brother and the lawyer. “You’ll sue.”
“I believe it’s what you asked for,” Spencer said. “It matches the sketch exactly.”
“I think it’s beautiful,” Kevin told him. “The groom cakes too.”
“I can’t imagine how you could screw up something as basic as a black briefcase, but voila! You did. And how dare you take someone else’s side in front of me?” Stefan said to Kevin.
“The cakes are perfect.”
“What would someone so mundane and flawed know about perfect?”
Spencer bit his tongue. He wanted to throw Stefan Noir through the storefront window, then press himself against Getty as they held up plywood to fix it before going upstairs to make love.
“I… I...” Kevin came close to Spencer’s plan. He threw ol’ Steve Black into their wedding cake instead.
Spencer turned. Noah Netherland and his partner, there on a break for warm doughnuts, were getting it all on film.
“The wedding is off!” Kevin hollered. “This time for good!”
“I’ll sue you too,” Stefan yelled. As a round of applause went up throughout the last minute shoppers in the store, he bellowed some more. “I’ll sue every one of you!” Stefan pushed through the door, getting icing on the knob and halfway down the cleared sidewalk outside.
“Lucky for you, Mr. Raginini’s oldest son is gay.” Spencer put an arm around Kevin’s shoulder. “And if you two don’t mesh, so is Kim Cunningham’s business partner, her cousin, and her next door neighbor. Plenty of fish, Kev, plenty of fish.”
Troy found Noah Netherland’s report for the fifth time that night. “Their love story did not end so merry and bright,” Noah said, “but one would-be groom did end up white this Christmas, all covered in frosting.”
“Okay. Turn that off,” Spencer told his brother. “It’s time to open our one Christmas Eve gift before we go to bed.” He kissed Getty on the way to the tree, where he grabbed two small boxes. “Not that that’ll leave us much to open in the morning. This is for you, Troy, and one for you, Isabelle, that I ran by knucklehead first.”
Troy ripped into his immediately.
“Damn, Turkey! Maybe I wanted to save that paper for next year.”
“It’s been a long road getting to Christmas presents, okay?” Troy opened the box. “Oh.”
“Christmas tree, oh Christmas treeeeeeee. Do you hate them?” Spencer asked.
“I love them! Please accept my business card,” Troy said jokingly snootily to Isabelle, as he handed one over. The cards featured the bakery’s new name Holiday Brother’s Bakery, with a jack-o-lantern for the o, and patriotic spiral for the e.
“I’m going to have the window done right after the New Year… if you’re still interested.”
“Totally.” Troy gave him a hug. “Thanks, Spenny.”
“One day printing. Christmas shopping took a back seat this year. I’ll make up for it at the sales next week.”
“And in the bedroom for you, Gettysburg.” Troy raised his black, bushy, smart-alecky brows.
“Eww,” Isabelle said.
“Ignore him. Open yours.” Spencer handed Isabelle a box even smaller. “I got it a long time ago, right after you told us about the baby.”
Isabelle ripped off the paper, then held up a silver pendant.
“As the oldest brother, it’s my responsibility to gift each new member of the Holiday family with their pendant. Dad wore a graduation cap, because his older brother thought he was smart. Mom got a fourth of July firecracker, because Dad said she was one. Since we have some Irish blood, and I was born March seventeenth, mine was pretty easy.” Spencer patted the shamrock charm at his chest. “I took over when this one turned five. I chose a turkey, because… well… isn’t it obvious. I chose a heart for you, Isabelle, to represent Valentine’s Day, and also because you know love when you see it.” Spencer looked to Getty.
“I love it, but you bought it before you even knew… before I came around,” she said.
“That didn’t even factor in at that point. You held a special place in my heart from the day you were born. You always felt like family to me, even if… Now it’s going to be official, and that makes my heart even fuller.”
“Damn, bro! Schmaltzy much?”
“Shut your bagel hole, Turkey.”
“I think it’s sweet.”
“Two against one, now?” Troy asked.
“Seems like.”
“You and my dad…” Isabelle’s lips pursed. “It’s still… weird.” Eighteen-year-olds spoke their mind. “But I’m trying, and I know I’ll get used to it.”
“We’ll be sure to be discreet in front of you,” Getty promised.
“And tell this one to keep his mouth shut,” Spencer added, nodding toward his brother.
A few hours and several slices of allegedly unsalable wedding cake later, the kids were about to retire to the bedroom, as Getty and Spencer quietly debated their overnight plans.
“Mom invited both of you to Christmas dinner,” Isabelle announced.
Spencer looked to Getty, who nodded.
“Oh. Okay. Sure.”
“Unless you had plans…,” Isabelle said.
“I’m pretty sure we were just having wedding cake,” Troy told her.
“Again?” Getty asked with faux disgust.
“Tell your mom I’ll bring dessert,” Spencer joked. “Lots and lots of it.”
He was already thinking about something special he could whip up in the morning.
“Cool. Bertram is coming,” Isabelle said. “Is that okay, Daddy?”
“Of course.”
“We introduced them,” Troy said proudly. “I’m getting good at this matchmaking stuff.”
“Must be all those Hallmark movies.” Spencer rolled his eyes.
“Must be. ‘Night, bro.”
“Good night. Merry Christmas.”
Once the kids were gone, Spencer kissed Getty goodnight.
“I guess that means I’m going home?”
�
�I’ll see you tomorrow—and maybe after Kirstin’s, I can stay over at your place.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Getty kissed him again, and put a hand down his pants. “That doesn’t feel like goodnight. What’s that in your pocket?”
“I’m just happy to kiss you.”
Getty pulled out an envelope.
“That too,” Spencer said. “Oh yeah. A Christmas card from Kirstin.” Spencer opened it. A photograph fell out, which Getty picked up.
“Me and Isabelle,” he said, forming an expression of puzzlement. “The one Isabelle was talking about… me holding her the night she was born.”
“Merry Christmas, Spense,” he read aloud. “Good luck, and you’re welcome.”
“I told you she loves you.”
“And you too, still.”
“I’ll have to thank her for playing matchmaker.”
“Me too.” They kissed again. “I love you, Augustine.”
“Who’s that?” They shared a laugh. “I love you too.”
“And it looks like the holiday jinx is over.”
“And now we get our happily ever after—unless Grayson Devries gets his way.”
“We could always get married someday next week.”
The words had barely been spoken when the light in the star atop the tree went out.
“Or maybe not. The jinx continues.”
“Please. A burnt lightbulb… nothing major.” Spencer waved it off, accidentally tapping the wreath on the door right beside them. It fell and hit a giant stuffed snowman, which knocked into the tree, sending it over, so it caught in the garland that was looped across the ceiling. One, two, three, four, all around the room, thumb tacks flew and pinged like stray bullets, and the ceramic bell hanging in the center X of tinsel rope came crashing to the coffee table. A glass of wine fell over, spilling onto an extension cord. It made a sputtering sound, and the lights in the apartment went off.
“Should I go flip the breaker?” Getty asked.
“In a little while. I kind of like it dark.” They kissed again.
“Hey!” Troy hollered from his room. “What happened to the lights? We were watching something.”
“The Hallmark Channel, no doubt,” Spencer quietly said to Getty. “Let’s go downstairs.”
“Do you still have that moving blanket?”
“I do. My bakery kitchen is smaller than the hotel’s, though. We’ll be right on top of each other.”
“That’s the plan, Spence. Merry Christmas. I got what I wanted.”
“Me too.”
They headed out.
“Oh. Head on down. I’m right behind you.”
Spencer went back to disconnect the effected plug.
“Dude! Troy came shuffling out from his room. “What happened to the power?”
“It’ll be back on in a minute,” Spencer told him. “Don’t come downstairs.”
“SpeGetty?” Troy asked.
“SpeGetty,” told him.
THE END