A Very Badd Christmas (The Badd Brothers #19)

12. Hayden

CHAPTER 12

hayden

I didn't see Emerson the next day and barely had time to text her. She was busy at her Uncle Xavier's house for the day, and Mom and I spent the day together exploring Ketchikan. We bought each other gifts and went to comical lengths to keep them a surprise. I decided I needed to get Emerson something and decided on a necklace with a gold sunburst pendant inlaid with a large iridescent opal in the middle. Mom got Olivia an interior design coffee table book. We went in together to get Bast and Dru a book of historical photographs of Ketchikan.

Mom seemed…sad, I suppose. More so as we neared Christmas Eve. Understandable. I felt it myself. I kept finding myself checking my phone for a text or a call from Dad; I couldn't imagine how it must feel for Mom, who'd been with him her whole life.

Christmas had always been Mom's favorite holiday. She loved to decorate the house until Dad teased her about it. She'd spend the entire week leading up to Christmas baking cookies and pies, and every time I'd come over, the house would smell amazing. Dad would be chopping wood or watching football, or they'd be snuggled up together on the couch watching black and white Christmas movies on TCM, getting a little tipsy and acting like love-sick teenagers.

We'd watch National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation on Christmas Eve and quote the whole thing to each other—mainly Dad and me, driving Mom nuts. Shitter’s full!

We'd order Chinese and Dad would read the Christmas story from the Bible. No matter how old I got, I cherished those traditions, even if they sometimes seemed a little cheesy. Now, I'd give anything to have one more holiday with Dad.

This was on my mind as I walked Mom to her room.

"Thinking about Dad?" I said as we reached our doors that evening, after dinner onboard the ship.

She nodded, fiddling with the rope handle of the gift bags. "Missing him. Remembering our first Christmas together."

"That's one I haven't heard," I said, leaning against the wall between our doors.

She smiled, eyes glistening. "We were so broke, Hayden. We'd just gotten married and had moved in together a few months prior. Your father was still in school, and I was waitressing to put him through it. I got him a digital wristwatch, a refillable pen, and a tie. He got me…oh my, let’s see…oh! I remember! How could I forget? It was so bad I could only laugh. He got me a purse. It was so sweet. He was so excited for me to open it. But it was something my grandmother would have liked, maybe. It was enormous and just absolutely hideous."

I laughed. "Dad was not great at gifts."

She shook her head, wiping at her eyes, sniffing and laughing. "No, he most certainly was not."

"What'd you do?" I asked.

She swallowed hard. "What could I do? He was so proud, thinking he'd gotten me something I would love. I couldn't crush him by telling him I'd rather have gotten a blender. I pretended to love it. I should have gotten an Oscar for that." She laughed, ending in a sigh. "A few years later, we were moving, and he found it stuffed in the back of the coat closet. I'd told him I'd misplaced it, acted all heartbroken."

"Mom! You lied to Dad?" I was faint with shock.

She just snickered. "Oh, honey, yes. He realized what had happened the moment he pulled it out. He looked right at me and said, 'You hate this, don't you?' And all I could do was admit that I did. He looked at it and started laughing. 'It is ugly as hell, isn't it?' he said." She shook her head. "After that, I made sure to give him a wishlist sometime around Thanksgiving. That way, he'd know what I wanted and liked. It took the pressure off. He didn't always go off the list, though. Sometimes that worked out, sometimes it didn't."

"Was that the worst gift he ever gave you?" I asked.

"Oh, goodness, no. Not even close. One year, you were…oh, three? Four? He gave me an antique lamp. To be fair, it was a beautiful lamp, and I did like it. But I'd made it clear, I'd thought, what I wanted, and what I was expecting—a pair of earrings. Why he thought I'd like a lamp we didn’t need instead of the earrings I specifically showed him and told him I wanted, I'll never know. Men are mysterious that way." She laughed. "I was annoyed, and he didn't get any Christmas—” she cut herself off abruptly. "Anyway. But I got over it, and he bought me the earrings and gave them to me New Year's Eve."

"Remember when he gave me that GI Joe for my birthday?” I said, laughing. “I was turning thirteen. I was like, Dad, this is what I asked for six years ago."

Mom covered her face. "I tried to tell him. He insisted thirteen-year-olds still played with GI Joe."

"The Walkman I actually wanted was from you, then, I assume?"

She nodded. "Of course." She closed her eyes and leaned her head on the door. "I miss him so much, Hayden. Especially now. I miss the way he used to take cookies right off the baking sheet fresh out of the oven and then huff and puff when they burned his mouth. I miss…my god, I miss everything. I miss his stupid gifts. I miss watching Miracle on 34th Street with him. It's just not the same."

I moved in and pulled her into my arms. "No, it's not."

She sniffled, pulling away after a moment. "Today was fun, though. This trip has been fun. You've really gone out of your way to distract me and cheer me up, Hayden, and I want you to know that I see it, and I’m grateful." She patted my cheek. "I love you, Son."

I kissed her on the head. "Love you, too, Ma."

"So. What shall we do tomorrow?" She asked.

"I don't know. I was thinking about all the traditions we used to do and how much I miss them. I just…I guess I don't know where to go from here." My eyes burned, and Mom wiped at my eyes.

"Don't you dare, Hayden. If you start, I'll start, and if I start, I'll never stop."

I fought like hell to regain composure. "I know. I know."

She rested her hand on my cheek. "Let's sleep on it and decide together tomorrow, okay?"

"Sounds good."

When I got into my room, though, I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I just…lost it. Ugly crying. Snot, sobs, the works. All the grief I'd been shoving aside to be there for Mom all came out at once.

And, of course, my phone burbled—a FaceTime. I answered it instinctively because the thought of talking to Em soothed me. I kept the camera facing away as I tried to put myself back together.

"Hayden? Why am I looking at the ceiling?" She was outside, wearing a white puffy coat and a purple hat that clashed gloriously with her hair; chatter and laughter in the background sounded merry, and I heard a few people singing "Jingle Bells" off-key while someone else cackled.

"I, uh—" I cleared my throat and sniffed hard. "Hold on."

"Hayden?" She heard it—of course she did. Why did I think I could hide it? "What's wrong?"

To be honest, it took a hell of a lot of courage to show her my face on the camera, knowing I was all blotchy and red-eyed and snotty.

"I'm good. I'm good. Just…ah—um. Let me call you back, okay?"

"Don't you dare hang up on me, buster." There were jostling sounds, and then the noise faded. "There. Now. Talk to me, honey. What's going on? Why are you crying?"

"Mom and I were talking about Dad. And I just…" I shook my head, feeling it all trying to come back up. "About Christmas. I just miss him, you know? It sucks. I'm trying to be happy and in the spirit for her, but it's hard. I miss him. But he was her husband for fifty years . I can't imagine how hard it must be for her."

"Hey, it's not a competition. He was your father. Of course you're gonna have a hard time. It's your first Christmas without him." She sighed. "I wish I was there to hug you."

I groaned, wiping at my face. "Me too." I cleared my throat and tipped my head back, taking a few deep breaths. "So. How's the party?"

"Oh, it's fun. It's always fun. Xavier rarely cuts loose, but tonight he's actually a little drunk. Aunt Low got him to recite The Iliad in the original Greek, and he turned it into a one-man play…in ancient Greek."

I scoffed. "For real?"

She nodded, laughing. "He's a savant with an eidetic memory. He can quote entire plays by Shakespeare. Beowulf in Old English or whatever. His pet project right now, apparently, is a three-dimensional model of the constellations as seen from Ketchikan from the first record of humans in North America to the present."

I gaped at the phone. "What? Why?"

She just laughed. "It's Uncle X. Who the hell knows? He likes an academic challenge."

"Inventing some of the most important technology of the twenty-first century isn't challenge enough?"

“Apparently not." Someone in the background shouted her name. "Hold on one sec," she murmured to me and then paused the screen; a few seconds later she was back. "Sorry. So, um, do you and Kaye have any definite plans?"

I shrugged and shook my head. "No, not really. We were gonna figure that out over breakfast. Why?"

"Because I talked to Mama Dru and Big Daddy Bast—"

I guffawed. "Wait, hold up—Big Daddy Bast?"

She clapped her hand over her mouth. "Crap. You cannot call him that."

"No shit!"

"Delia hates it when I call him that."

"Can I ask you a personal question? You don't have to answer."

"Sure."

"Why don't you call him Dad?"

She dropped her eyes. "I don't know. He told me I could a long time ago, but I…" she trailed off, looking away at nothing. "That's probably a deep conversation for another time. Something to do with daddy issues stemming from my actual biological father."

"I don't mean to pry, Em. It's none of my business."

She shook her head, smiling. "Not at all. I don't mind talking about it, just not now. The reason I'm calling, other than just to talk to you because I missed you today, was to invite you and Kaye to stay with us tomorrow night and do Christmas Day with us. Please don't feel like you have to get anyone anything. We want you to spend it with us…if you wanted.”

"Em, we can't crash your family Christmas. That's…"

She swallowed hard. "Hayden, I want you to. So do my parents." She smiled faintly as if she had a secret. "We may not be your family, but we're family. And you guys deserve to spend Christmas with people who know you and care about you. I get it if you guys would rather spend it together."

I didn't answer for a moment. "Are you absolutely sure, Emerson?"

"It's not pity. It is compassion, I suppose. But not pity, if that's what you’re worried about." She bit her lip, smiling at me. "It's also selfish on my part. I want to see you. I want to be with you. And, um…you'd be with me. Um. In my bed. Dunc and Dane can stay in the basement and your mom can take Dane's room on the end. The room in the middle will be empty."

I realized what she was saying. "Em…"

"Please say yes? I can't bear the thought of you two in some little cabin, no tree, no stockings, no singing carols…" she shrugged, trailing off. "Being alone with you tomorrow night would just be a really major bonus. I want to spend Christmas with you. I don't know… what you and I are or what’s going to happen. I don't expect you to know. There are no expectations."

She was nervous, perhaps even scared.

It was a no-brainer. I hadn't been looking forward to a weird, awkward Christmas on the cruise ship myself, as lovely and thoughtful as it seemed it would be. Spending it with Emerson and her amazing family just seemed like the best thing I could ask for.

I knew Mom would agree.

“If you're sure we won't be imposing or anything, then we would love to accept your invitation, Emerson."

"Oh my, so formal, Mr. McCaffrey."

"Indeed, Ms. Day."

"And again, don't get us anything—we're just happy to have you guys come."

I laughed. "Too late. What do you think we spent today doing?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "You're ridiculous. Did you get stuff for your other family?"

“Don't have any other family. It's just Mom and me. My parents were both only children. Mom's folks both died before I was born. Dad's dad died when he was like seven, and his mom when I was twelve, I think. If either of them has any extended family beyond that, I have never met any of them. So, no extended family."

"Jeez. So my family is crazy to you, huh?"

I laughed. "Um, yeah. But in a good way. It must be amazing having so many people around you for the holidays."

"Oh, it is. It can be exhausting, especially with so many parties for like three or four weeks straight, but it's fun, and there's so much joy and so many traditions." She grinned. "Speaking of which, just so you're aware, we have a fun Christmas Eve tradition. Everyone gets matching PJs and a book, and we have a low-key, no-cook dinner, and then we watch Die Hard ."

" Die Hard ?" I asked, laughing. "I've heard of people who watch that on Christmas, but I’ve never met anyone who does."

"Well, now you have. It's the best Christmas movie ever. We actually all group-watch it, like the whole clan, everyone in their own houses—it's a whole big watch party thing. We have quote-offs which usually turn into a drinking game. Just so you and Kaye are aware."

"Thanks for the heads-up," I said. "That should be fun."

Someone yelled her name again. "YEAH, ONE MINUTE!" she yelled. "I'm gonna have to go. We're playing Cards Against Humanity. We're also going to a candlelight service tomorrow night, by the way. You don't need to be, like, super dressed up or anything, but most of us do dress nice.”

"Mom will appreciate that," I said. "She's…well, not religious, although she grew up religious. She's spiritual. Dad wasn't, though, so we stayed home, and he read the Christmas story in the Bible every year. I think Mom would've liked to go to a service, but I think that was a thing they fought about and that was the compromise."

"Hayden, about you being interrogated—" Emerson started.

"Em, it's fine. I'm glad they did—it means they care. You really don't need to worry."

She rolled her eyes. "I just…You don't…whatever's going on with us is between us. They know that. They just—"

"Emerson, for real. It didn't bother me. I was a little nervous, especially after, um…you know. But I like your dad. I like your family. I'll answer any questions they have."

She gave me a look that I couldn't quite decipher. "I know my family can be kinda intimidating. My uncles especially."

I just laughed. "Kinda? If someone had told me about them, I wouldn't have believed them. Your family is patently absurd. And I mean that in the best possible way."

"We kinda are, aren't we?" Someone shouted her name yet again.

"Go," I said. "I'll call you in the morning?"

She blew me a kiss. "Can't wait. Merry Christmas! Love you, bye!" Her eyes flew wide and she clapped a hand over her mouth; the screen went black as she hung up.

All I could do was splutter a laugh of disbelief. I immediately texted her.

ME: Don't freak, Em. It's cool. Way I look at it, either you slipped because you're around your family, in which case, all good, no worries. OR…you really meant it and it just slipped out, in which case, I wish you'd given me a chance to say it back.

My phone binged a few minutes later.

EMERSON: It slipped out. I'm not sure if it's the first or second, TBH. I'm not sure which is better, either. But thanks for that, regardless.

ME: No pressure either way. Whether it was an accident or a Freudian slip, it's fine. We can just pretend it didn't happen if that's easier.

EMERSON: I've never said that to anyone. I barely say it to my family. I don't want to have said it to someone I really do feel it for by accident. It's a big f'ing deal to me.

ME: I understand that completely. I’ve never said it either, and I feel the same way.

EMERSON: So we agree it was an accident and never happened.

ME: LOL. Agreed. Pick a gnarly card pairing for me. I love that game.

EMERSON: I will. Can't wait to see you tomorrow.

I hearted the message so she'd know I saw it but didn't feel the need to continue the conversation when she was busy with her family.

I turned on a documentary and spaced out, thinking.

Did she love me? Did I love her? I wasn't sure what love was, other than what I'd seen in my parents: dedication, affection, mutual respect, consideration, compassion, and generosity. They hugged each other, kissed, and held hands right up to the day he died. They argued, not a lot, but they did, yet even in a fight with raised voices, there was never name-calling or insulting or aggression, and they were always careful to make sure I saw them having made up the next day. I saw them love each other every day my whole life.

But what did that mean for me? What did I think about love? What did love mean for me? What did love look like for me?

Something like what Mom and Dad had. I wanted affection, respect, attraction, laughter. I saw all that with Emerson. I saw our relationship developing into something meaningful and long-term. There were a lot of details to work out, major ones with no easy solutions. But before that…I just wanted to see what it could be.

Was I in love with her? That was less easy to nail down. I cared about her deeply, and in a very short time, she'd come to occupy a huge place in my heart. I wanted to know more about her. I wanted to be with her every moment. I wanted to belong with her.

I suppose that sounded a lot like love, didn't it?

I turned off the TV and tried to sleep, but all I could think about was Emerson. Being in bed with her. Sex, yes, of course—after what we'd already shared, it was nearly all I could think about. But there was just as much thinking about just holding her, being with her.

I wasn't sure where things would go or how they'd work out—or even if they would—but I was damn sure I wanted to try.