Boyfriend for the Holidays

Chapter 3. Meet the Family

“Mom, Dad,” I call out as soon as the door closes behind us, and we’re enveloped by the warmth of the house and the mouthwatering smells drifting from the kitchen.

No one seems to hear me over the music and the chaos coming from the dining room, where, judging by the noise, Jemma’s kids are shrieking and running around, their little footsteps thumping against the floor.

I glance at Garred, who has already set down the bags, shrugged off his coat, and hung it on the rack by the door. Now, he’s silently offering to help me with my coat. I let him, and as he eases it off my shoulders, my mom walks out of the kitchen, her back to us. Just in time for the show.

“Mom,” I say, and she turns, freezing as she takes us in.

“Mitch, honey, you’re here!” She flutters her hands and rushes to hug me, though her utterly surprised gaze is fixed on Garred. It’s clear she didn’t expect to see a Greek god standing next to her younger son.

I’d told her I’d be bringing a friend —yes, I said friend, just in case Garred backed out at the last minute, which would’ve left me scrambling to find a stand-in. So I imagine she’s a little shocked to see a Henry Cavill lookalike at my side.

“And who’s your friend?” Mom asks as she releases me.

“Mom,” I start, my voice catching. I clear my throat. “This is, uh—”

“Garred,” he steps in smoothly, flashing her an easy, Hollywood-worthy smile. “Mitch’s boyfriend. It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Collins.”

My mom just stares at him, clearly in shock. “B-boyfriend?” Her gaze darts to me, eyes full of questions, as though she can’t believe I’d managed to bring home someone like Garred. I nod, trying to look as confident as possible.

“It’s such a pleasure!” she exclaims, her voice cracking, and I can’t believe how thrilled she seems that I’ve brought a guy home. She must have really lost hope if that’s her reaction.

Garred, the towering figure that he is, leans down and wraps her in a hug, so genuine and warm that I’m actually a little annoyed it’s all just part of the act for him. The hug seems to make my mom even more ecstatic; I swear I see tears welling in her eyes as she stands on tiptoe to hug him back. Kelly wasn’t kidding—Garred really is a mom charmer.

As if to prove the point, as soon as he lets go, Garred sniffs the air and says, “Something smells amazing. Is that baked potatoes with rosemary I’m smelling, Mrs. Collins?”

My mom’s face lights up like a Christmas tree. “Oh, yes! I’m trying out a new recipe, actually. And please, call me Linda.”

Garred beams at her with his laser charm. “Linda, you have to share this recipe with me, or I’ll be begging all night!”

Mom actually blushes— blushes —and gives me a look that practically screams, where on Earth did you find him? I can tell she’s bursting with a million questions, but instead, she nearly bounces as she makes us take off our shoes and leads us toward the dining room.

As we walk in, she grabs my elbow and hisses—loud enough for Garred to hear—”Mitch, this is a Christmas miracle!”

Oh. My. God. My face heats up like a gas canister about to explode, and all I want to do right now is merge with the dining room floor like a chameleon. I glance at Garred, and he’s clearly amused—he’s smirking as if to say he’s absolutely going to bring this up later, especially since my mom’s reaction makes it sound like she’d given up on my dating life entirely.

I will myself to stop blushing, but then it hits me that my entire family isn’t even here yet—meaning this is just the warm-up—and my face somehow heats up even more. Just then, Garred’s hand finds the small of my back, as if he’s trying to steady me. His touch feels like a brand through my sweater.

“You okay?” he murmurs, pulling me a bit closer and then wrapping his arms around my waist. His voice is soft, just for me, but I can see Mom sneaking glances from the doorway, her eyes practically starry.

“Yeah,” I mutter, and to my surprise, Garred leans down and plants a quick kiss on my cheek. My skin burns where his lips touch, and when I look up at him, he’s smiling—a warm, private smile that feels like it’s meant just for my eyes. Except, of course, it’s not, because Mom is right there.

Just then, my niece and nephew, covered head-to-toe in what looks suspiciously like glitter, finally spot me. They dart over, and Garred lets go so they can give me a quick hug. Then they turn their attention to Garred, staring up at him as if he’s a superhero come to life. When he says hello, they let out high-pitched squeals and bolt out of the room, thrilled.

“Your dad and Adam went out to pick up Grandma,” Mom says casually, but I can tell she’s stalling to soak in every second of Garred’s presence. She probably thinks he’ll vanish into thin air if she looks away. “They’ll be here soon.”

“Great,” I say, nodding, still feeling a bit overheated from Garred’s proximity. “Where’s everyone else?”

“In the kitchen, helping me finish up dinner.”

“We’d be happy to help,” Garred offers, but Mom waves him off, smiling warmly.

“Oh, no need, dear, there are already too many cooks.” She beams at him. “Would you like something to drink? The mulled wine isn’t quite ready yet, but we have champagne.”

“We brought red wine,” Garred replies smoothly, and I immediately start looking around for my bag. But before I can even think about going for it, he says, “I’ll grab it,” and heads into the hallway.

“That’s so lovely of you,” Mom says, clearly charmed, as Garred returns a moment later with two bottles. He places them on the family table in the middle of the room, already set with a white tablecloth, cutlery, glasses, plates, and neatly folded napkins.

Just then, Jemma walks into the dining room, saying, “Mom, the kids are convinced there’s a Superma—” She stops abruptly, noticing Garred and me. “Oh. Hi.”

“Hi, Jem,” I say, moving over to give her a hug. I feel her stiffen a little, probably as she glances over my shoulder at Garred.

He steps forward, waiting politely until Jemma releases me. Then he says, “I’m Garred. It’s great to finally meet you, Jemma.”

I catch the word “finally” and can’t help but appreciate the nice touch—Garred definitely knows how to make an impression. Jemma raises an eyebrow, glancing between the two of us.

“Wait, are you…?”

“Garred’s my boyfriend,” I say quickly, feeling his arm settle around my shoulders, his spicy, pine-scented cologne making me a bit lightheaded. I can’t help but enjoy how we seem to fit together, like I’m a little missing puzzle piece nestled under his arm.

“I thought you were just bringing a friend,” Jemma says, looking a bit thrown.

“Yeah,” I say, aware of Garred’s gaze on me, “I didn’t want everyone to fuss.”

“Well, we wouldn’t fuss if we knew you had a boyfriend,” Jemma says, giving me an offended look.

“I—” I start, but Garred steps in smoothly.

“Sorry, that’s probably my fault. I was a bit nervous to meet everyone.”

“Nervous?” Jemma repeats, a trace of suspicion in her voice.

“Yeah,” Garred nods, and I could swear he’s blushing a little. “I was just nervous I might not live up to the Collins family standards.”

I stare at him, wondering if he’s secretly a sociopath—he lies so smoothly and says exactly the right thing. Jemma immediately softens, giving him a warm smile.

“Trust me, we don’t have any expectations when it comes to Mitch’s boyfriends.”

I want to slap myself in the face. “Thanks for that, Jem.”

“What? It’s true. You never bring any of your boyfriends to meet us, so we assume they don’t exist.”

Garred laughs at that, and Jemma joins in, though she sounds a bit offended, and I want to kick both of them for making me the punchline.

Jemma’s not wrong, though. I’ve never brought anyone home—my first serious boyfriend was way out of my league, and I spent most of our relationship fangirling over him. I did ask him to meet my parents once, but he always refused. With my second boyfriend, I didn’t even bother trying. So, yeah, Jemma’s got a point.

When Mom mentions something about potatoes and heads to the kitchen, I leave Garred and Jemma to their chat and head to the table to open the wine. I wrestle with the corkscrew for a moment before finally winning and pouring myself a glass—a generous pour that would easily be three servings in a restaurant. But if I’m going to make it through tonight without being a total awkward mess, I need a drink. So I finish the glass in less than two minutes and pour myself another.

As I sip my second glass, Adam’s pregnant wife, Claire, comes in holding a dish with a lid, followed by Jemma’s husband, Rick, who’s carrying another covered dish. They appear so quickly after Mom left that I’d bet my yearly bonus she already filled them in about my “boyfriend,” and now they’re here to get a look. I watch them meet Garred while I finish my drink, and it’s clear he’s basically a Dale Carnegie when it comes to winning people over. As they laugh and chat, I feel a pang of annoyance—apparently, I’m not the only one getting Garred’s full attention. But I also can’t figure out why he’s putting so much effort into this whole act. Maybe he’ll be asking for that hundred bucks after all.

When everyone turns to look at me, sitting there with my wine glass, I realize I have no choice but to get up and hug my in-laws. And even though I’m genuinely happy to see them, I feel so awkward it’s like my arms and legs are made of wood.

And, as if my limbs really are made of wood, I trip over the carpet.

“Shit!” I shout, but it’s too late. I would’ve spilled my wine all over the floor if Garred hadn’t caught me just in time, the wine landing on him instead of the pristine white carpet.

We freeze: me in Garred’s arms, my wine glass nearly empty in my hand, and Garred’s blue shirt now soaked in red. For a moment, time stands still—until it snaps back, and the whole family springs into action, hurrying over with paper towels and wet wipes. Mom hears the commotion from the kitchen, rushes in to see what happened, and, thank god , realizes the carpet is saved. She hurries back to the kitchen and returns with salt, explaining that Garred will need to take off his shirt to soak the stain before it sets.

And when Garred finally pulls off his shirt, revealing the sharp lines of his chest and abs, I feel the blood drain from my face like I spilled it along with the wine.

Fuck me, he looks good.

Before my mom can start fussing, I take Garred upstairs to the guest bathroom and leave him to clean up while I run to my old room to find one of my faded high-school T-shirts. When I come back, I stop short at the doorway—Garred is standing there in just his briefs, trying to blot the stain out of his pants. He glances at me, and I do my best not to stare as I say, “I’m so sorry, Garred. I’ll cover the cost of the clothes.”

He snorts, “Relax, it’s fine.”

I walk over, hand him the shirt, and eye the dark red stain on his pant leg. “I’ll grab my sweatpants for you.”

“The pants are fine,” Garred says with an easy smile, hanging them on a hook by the mirror. I notice a bit of wine staining his stomach, so I pick up a fresh towel, wet it, and start dabbing the wine off his skin.

Garred chuckles, but when I reach the spot just above his briefs, he gently catches my wrist with a small smile. “It’s fine, thank you.”

“Oh—yeah, of course,” I stammer, feeling incredibly awkward for touching him without thinking.

I back away, embarrassed, as Garred pulls his pants back on and then slips the borrowed T-shirt over his head. It’s too small, stretching tight across his chest and shoulders, but at least it reaches his waist.

“Did you bring any spare clothes?” I ask. “I can run downstairs and grab your bag.”

“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. This is fine.”

Before I can apologize for the wine again, there’s a knock at the door.

“Everything okay in there?” Mom calls out, her voice tinged with concern.

“Fine!” I reply, a little too quickly. “We’ll be right down!”

“Okay, dear. Your father, brother, and Grandma just arrived!”

Garred looks at me, amused, as he adjusts the shirt. “Ready to meet the rest of the family?”

“I need another drink,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair.

“Hey,” Garred says softly, catching my hand. “Deep breaths. You’re doing great.”

His touch is gentle as he draws slow circles on my wrist, and despite my embarrassment over the wine incident, I find myself calming down. He’s right—aside from my clumsiness, things are actually going surprisingly well. My family seems totally charmed by him, which is both a relief and oddly unsettling.

“Thanks,” I say, managing a small smile. “And sorry again about your clothes.”

“Stop apologizing,” he says, giving my hand a squeeze before letting go. “Though I have to admit, this wasn’t exactly how I pictured stripping down in front of you for the first time, baby.”

I blush and laugh despite myself, feeling the tension ease completely. “Well, at least you made an impression on my family.”

“That’s one way to put it,” he grins, then gestures at the exit. “Shall we?”

I nod, taking one last deep breath before opening the door. As we head downstairs, I can hear my grandmother’s voice floating up from below, along with my father’s deeper tone. Garred’s hand finds the small of my back again, steadying me, and I try to ignore how natural it feels.

As we descend the stairs, my grandmother's voice gets clearer. She's talking about her bridge club's Christmas party drama—apparently someone brought store-bought cookies and tried to pass them off as homemade. The scandal.

When we reach the bottom step, Dad spots us first. He's helping Grandma with her coat, but his hands freeze mid-motion as he takes in the sight of Garred and me. His eyebrows shoot up so high they nearly disappear into his hairline. Judging by his reaction, mom had already called him and told him about Garred, but Dad probably didn’t expect to see this muscled man by my side with whom we could easily cosplay Beauty and the Beast.

Then I notice Adam, and his reaction I was probably dreading even more than Dad’s.

Adam looks like he’s just stumbled onto a prank show. His eyes dart between Garred and me, clearly trying to process what he’s seeing. I can practically hear the gears turning as he sizes up Garred’s impressive height and build, currently showcased by my too-tight high school T-shirt, and then glances at me, his shorter, bookish younger brother.

“Well,” Adam finally says, a hint of amusement in his voice, “this is…unexpected.”

Before I can respond, Grandma pushes past both Dad and Adam, her eyes lighting up as she spots Garred. “Oh my!” she exclaims, shuffling forward. “And who do we have here?”

Garred steps forward smoothly, taking her outstretched hand in both of his. “I’m Garred, ma’am. Mitch’s boyfriend. It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”

“Boyfriend!” Grandma practically squeals, holding onto Garred’s hands. “Mitchell, you’ve been holding out on us!” She turns back to Garred, patting his arm approvingly. “And such a handsome one, too! I was starting to worry about our Mitchell. All those dating apps these days, and he still couldn’t find anyone!”

“Grandma,” I groan, but she just waves me off.

“Now, now, dear. Let me enjoy this moment.” She beams up at Garred. “You have to tell me everything. How did you two meet?”

“Through a mutual friend,” Garred replies smoothly.

“Kelly introduced us,” I add quickly.

“Kelly?” Dad finally speaks up, his eyebrows still somewhere near his hairline. “Your friend from high school?”

I nod, grateful as Garred continues smoothly, “Yes, sir. I’m actually her roommate. Mitch and I met on Halloween.”

That part, at least, is true.

“Halloween?” Adam repeats, doing the math in his head, then raises an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “ This Halloween?”

I know exactly what he’s implying—that I’ve brought a random fling to Christmas dinner with the family. But before I can decide how to respond, Garred flashes him a broad smile.

“Yeah, I’m a little embarrassed to admit it, but after one conversation, I was pretty much in love with him.”

I blush (yes, I know, I do that a lot—don’t judge), and Mom lets out an audible “aww.” I catch Jemma and Rick exchanging surprised glances, clearly charmed by whatever Garred says. It hits me that they’re all hanging onto his every word—everyone, that is, except Adam, who just smirks.

Funny enough, my first (and one of only a few) real conversations with Garred was completely ridiculous. I’d gone to pick up Kelly on Halloween, dressed as Edward Cullen (she was Alice Cullen), secretly hoping to get a glimpse of her new roommate. Garred had just finished his shift and was still in his firefighter uniform, covered in soot, which I naturally assumed was a brilliant costume. So, of course, I launched into this whole analysis about why firefighters wouldn’t stand a chance against Twilight vampires. Garred just stood there, smiling and letting me ramble for a solid ten minutes until Kelly finally stepped in to tell me it wasn’t a costume—he was actually a firefighter who’d just come off work.

I smile at the memory. Part of me wants to tell my family the story—it’d probably win Dad over in a second, considering he’s always joked I’d never find someone patient enough to listen to my geeky rambles. But something about Adam’s smirk makes me want to keep that moment to myself. It’s too precious, too awkward, too real to hand over as proof against whatever cynical point Adam’s trying to make about my love life.

“We’ll see how it goes,” Adam says with one of his deadpan smirks.

My brother isn’t a bad person, but he’s always been overprotective of me—in that annoying way where he tortures me instead of anyone else. When he found out I was gay, he went through a phase of believing older men would take advantage of me and gave me grief for a couple of months, until Dad got involved and told him to back off.

“Welcome to our home, Garred,” Dad finally says as he steps forward, extending his hand.

Garred shakes it firmly. “Thank you for having me, sir.”

“Yes, yes,” Grandma cuts in impatiently. “But tell me more about how you two got together. Mitchell never tells us anything!”

Garred gives me a quick look at the use of “Mitchell,” but I just stare back, making it clear that only Grandma is allowed to call me by my full name.

“Later, Grams,” I tell her. Just then, Mom’s phone timer goes off, and she announces, “Dinner’s ready! Everyone to the table! I’ll bring out the turkey and potatoes.”

As we all move toward the dining room, I catch Adam giving me a look that clearly says we’ll be talking later. But before I can start worrying about it, Garred’s hand slips into mine, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The gesture feels so natural that, for a moment, I almost forget this is all pretend.

While Garred and I were upstairs, Mom decorated the dining table with a centerpiece of pine branches and red candles. She really outdid herself—everything looks like it belongs on the cover of a Christmas magazine.

“Garred, dear, why don’t you sit next to Mitch?” Mom suggests, though we’d obviously do that anyway. “And Margaret,” she says, glancing at Grandma, “why don’t you sit on Garred’s other side?”

I suppress a groan. Of course Mom would put Grandma next to Garred. She’s probably hoping Grandma will pry every detail of our “relationship” out of him over dinner for later discussion. Grandma’s a pro at that, and I’m already worried Garred won’t survive the interrogation.

As we take our seats, I notice Garred’s borrowed T-shirt ride up slightly when he sits, revealing a strip of skin at his waist. I quickly look away, but not before catching Jemma’s knowing smirk from across the table.

“So, Garred,” Dad says as Mom begins passing around the dishes, “what do you do for work?”

“I’m a firefighter, sir.”

The table falls quiet for a moment, and I can practically see everyone’s estimation of Garred rising even higher. Perfect. Now he’s not just gorgeous—he’s also a hero who saves lives.

“A firefighter!” Grandma exclaims, clasping her hands together. “How exciting! And dangerous too, I imagine. Mitchell, don’t you worry about him?”

I nearly choke on my water. “I—uh—”

“I always make sure to let him know I’m safe,” Garred cuts in smoothly, placing his hand over mine on the table.

The warmth of his hand sends a tingle up my arm, and when I glance at him, the soft look he’s giving me feels almost too real, sending a storm of butterflies through my stomach.

“That’s so sweet,” Mom sighs, and I catch Jemma rolling her eyes with a good-natured smile.

As the food makes its way around, the questions keep coming, but Garred handles them all with effortless charm. Between questions, he compliments Mom’s cooking, asks Dad about his work, coos at photos of Jemma’s kids in their kindergarten play, and listens attentively to Grandma’s bridge club stories. He’s so perfect it’s almost suspicious, but everyone is completely won over. Well, again, everyone except Adam.

“So, are you two like…casual, or what’s going on here?” Adam asks, looking between the two of us.

“Adam!” Mom says, her brows furrowed. “What’s gotten into you today?”

“I’m just asking,” Adam says with a shrug, but of course, he’s not “just asking.”

“Yeah, right,” I mutter, feeling a flash of anger rise in me.

“I’m not sure about Mitch, but I’m pretty serious,” Garred says with a light laugh, though his hand squeezes my thigh under the table, a quiet contrast to his casual tone.

“Aren’t all firefighters gay?” Adam says, earning a collective gasp around the table.

“Stop it, Adam,” Claire says, poking him in the ribs. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”

“What?” Adam smirks, looking unapologetic. “I’m just asking.”

I want to unleash hell on my brother, but Garred doesn’t let me; his grip on my leg tightens under the table as he responds, this time without a smile. “I don’t see where you’re going with this.”

Adam twists his mouth into a lopsided smirk. “I was just wondering why a guy like you would choose my brother, that’s all. Aren’t there enough hot guys around you?”

“You’re being rude, Adam,” Dad interjects, but Garred nods at him, signaling that he’s got it, and then turns back to Adam.

“I’m not interested in dating a copy of myself, if that’s what you’re asking,” Garred replies, with a smile that’s anything but warm. “I get that you’re being protective of your brother, and I respect that—especially since I’m in your family’s home. But your questions are upsetting Mitch. All you need to know is that I’m in love with your brother. That should be enough.”

Garred’s reply puts Adam firmly in his place. Adam just shrugs and, for the rest of dinner, doesn’t bring it up again. The way Garred handled it clearly earned him points with the rest of my family—and with me, too. For the first time, I felt like I caught a glimpse of the real Garred, someone not quite so perfect, a little territorial even, which, I’ll admit, I liked a little too much.