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“Seriously, I’ll get an okay rate selling your old car for scrap. It’s a reasonable trade.”
“Fine. Deal.” We shake, and Marcus pulls me into a hug.
“I know you’re used to being on your own, but I want to be a better brother and uncle to you and your kids, Angel. Please don’t be a stranger?”
“Yeah. I’ll try. Thanks, Marcus.”
A cynical part of me is still upset that it took his wife going through a rough pregnancy to wake up to what I went through alone. I needed my big brother and he wasn’t there. But he’s genuinely been doing his best to make up for that lately.
It’s not fair to hold our parents’ sins against him. I sure as shit didn’t advertise how miserable I was in my marriage with Trevor. Marcus isn’t the most socially aware guy, so I can either continue holding the past against him or build a better relationship with my brother now.
I’m glad we’re reconnecting. I like Marcus’s wife and her family a lot. It will be nice to hold his baby in a few months, breathe in that sweet newborn smell and fall in love with my niece. It doesn’t hurt that I’ll get to hand her back to her parents at the end of each visit.
The baby years are hard. I don’t precisely want to go back, but I like the idea of having a new baby in the family. As long as there is another adult to hand them off to when I’m exhausted.
And it helps that a small part of me likes the fact Gail gives me another connection to Saint through her brother. A way to touch other parts of his life outside the bedroom without scaring him off. Or at least, I hope so.
I’m looking forward to seeing Saint at the party tomorrow. Better to look forward to that than to spend my entire night dreading saying Merry Christmas to the kids before packing them off to their dad’s place for the holiday. Our first one apart.
I’m grateful not to have the time to dwell on that fact as I go back inside to a packed lunch service that keeps me running from start to finish.
Chapter 13
Saint (December 23rd, 2023)
“Dancewithme?”Angellooks radiant in an oversized, slouchy sweater and tight jeans. Their long hair is pulled back into a tidy tail with a festive light-up scrunchie. They’re smiling, but I can see the traces of sadness in their eyes whenever their gaze falls on the several children and teens in attendance.
It’s obvious they miss Meg and Owen already, and that they want a distraction.
“Sure.” I flash them a tight smile. Angel guides me into the little knot of people dancing to the holiday music while most of the other guests mingle and snack on hors d’oeuvres.
So far, I’ve spent most of the night lurking at the edges of the crowd and feeling sorry for myself that Carl is having an amazing time with Nick. And working really hard not to resent my bestie’s new boyfriend for monopolizing his time.
The goofy grin that hasn’t slipped from Carl’s face once all evening has gone a long way to assuaging my jealousy. As long as Carl is smiling like that, I’m a fan of this Nick. But I have my doubts. For a start, this is the first time in years that the man has come home to spend the holiday with his aging mother.
Nick seems nice enough. I’m just wary of his priorities. Carl deserves the very best, not to settle for another workaholic like me who can’t give him what he needs from a lover. But so far, they seem perfect for each other. It’s good. And so is holding Angel close and swaying to the music.
“Do you remember the first time I asked you to take me home?” Angel murmurs.
I have to stoop to hear them. I catch a glimpse of Nick alone with Eliza’s wife, Grace. Hmm, I wonder what Eliza has planned? Carl’s sisters are nosy as fuck, god love them.
“Mhm.” I flash Angel a distracted smile as I turn us in a spin, casually sweeping the room for Eliza and Carl. Angel’s smile dims, their expression closing off. “What?”
“Nevermind.” They stop dancing.
I remember that night like it was yesterday. The warmth of their body in my arms. The thrill of taking them home and unwrapping them like a much anticipated present. My excitement when they agreed to see me again. I remember how we danced, just like this.
Their hair—silky when it brushes over my hand on their shoulder—was shorter then, and equally gorgeous. They’d buzzed it all off to celebrate their separation from Trevor and starting hormones once they were free of their old life. So a couple years out from that, it had just brushed their shoulders in an awkward rockstar do, and it’s longer now. Their smile that night drew me to them, and I could kick myself for banishing it.
“I remember, Angel.” I don’t want to reminisce like we’re lovers. Even though, aren’t we? Idolove them. But it’s never the right way and I’m so tired of losing people when they realize it never will be something out of one of Carl’s romances. That he’ll always be my—what was that word Meg taught Angel for queer platonic life partners? An aubergine? No, zucchini. I’ll have to ask the kid if us old folks are allowed to use that one. It’s what Carl is to me, though. The one I want to grow old loving, having movie nights and gym dates together. I want to live beside him until we’re the cranky old men telling the neighborhood kids to get off our lawns.
Except, maybe Carl and Nick—or whoever he ends up with—will be those kids’ grandparents. And maybe I’ll be something to Angel’s grandkids too. If I can figure out how to be something to them and their kids.
The thought gives me a visceral reaction, a hot flush I don’t know how to quantify. Fear? Excitement? Some rancid combination of the two? I have no idea how to be a partner to Angel. Let alone a step-parent to their kids.
“Cool. Is everything okay?” Angel looks concerned. They lift the back of their hand to my brow in such a parental gesture that I almost laugh. I’m the furthest thing possible from one of their kids, but it’s a painfully loving touch. I can’t tell them the reason I’ve broken out in a flop sweat is that I’m having a mild panic attack about getting to know their kids.
“Yeah.” There’s Carl, by the punch. And from his fidgeting and the ‘save me’ eyes he’s casting in my direction, he needs an extraction. Yep, Carl needs me. I’m not fleeing in terror of the future at all. “Of course.”
