Christmas Beau (Christmas Falls: Season 2)

Chapter 9

Chapter

Nine

S unday family dinners weren’t a weekly occurrence in the Jersey family. Teddy often had homework he’d left till the last minute, Scott’s mom visited with her friends, and Scott’s dad was a firm believer that Sundays were for doing nothing.

And Scott? Well, these days Sundays were for housework or quilting or meal prep, but when he’d still had a job? Mostly, they were for working.

He hadn’t had a home office in their old house. His files had been strewn across the dining room table, and he’d done his quilting out of his bedroom. But this new house that he wouldn’t be able to pay the mortgage on if he didn’t get a job in the next few months? It had four bedrooms, three bathrooms, and way more space than two people needed. But they’d been stepping on each other in their old house, and Scott had wanted to give Teddy the space to grow without them bumping into each other every five minutes.

Here, one of the extra bedrooms was a guest room—which now had a bed for Sean, an expense Scott hadn’t foreseen and wasn’t thrilled about, but Sean couldn’t very well sleep on the couch indefinitely—and the other was his quilting room. And sometimes his quilting materials spilled over into the guest room.

Scott straightened from his slouch over the sewing machine and stretched out his back. “Teddy?” he said, loud enough for Teddy to hear him in his bedroom. “You ready to go?” He headed for his own bedroom to change out of his Sunday sweats, calling a “Teddy?” over his shoulder when his son didn’t reply.

A few minutes later, wearing jeans and a denim-blue Henley, he strode into Teddy’s room.

Teddy was bent over his desk, back to the door, and he wore headphones with the music on loud enough for Scott to hear it. He placed a hand on Teddy’s shoulder. “Ted?—”

Jolting out of his chair, Teddy screeched like a banshee.

Scott jerked backward with a yelp, startled by the sudden movement and sound.

“What the hell, Dad?” Teddy flung the headphones off his head.

“What the hell, Teddy ?” Scott maturely shot back, not bothering to scold Teddy about his language seeing as his own wasn’t much better. Also, his heart beat fast enough to win a race.

“You scared the crap out of me.”

“Well, maybe if you weren’t listening to Selena Gomez so loud, you would’ve heard me saying your name.”

“What?” Flushing, Teddy jabbed at his phone, which was blaring the chorus of “Back to You.” “I’m not listening to Selena Gomez. I’m listening to...”

Scott waited patiently for Teddy to come up with someone cooler than Selena Gomez—which he’d be hard-pressed to do. Selena was the shit.

“Bing Crosby.”

Scott forced himself not to laugh. “You have no idea who that is.”

“Yes, I do. He’s from that movie Grandma watches twenty times every Christmas.”

“She’s been watching that movie twenty times every Christmas since before I was born.”

“A hundred years ago, you mean?” Teddy asked with a teasing smile.

“Funny guy.” Scott gently cuffed his shoulder. “You ready to go? We’re going to be late. Grab the dog and let’s go.”

Of course, arriving at his parents’ a few minutes late turned out to be a non-issue, considering Sean hadn’t arrived yet.

“Oh, you know your brother,” Mom said with a wave of her hand when Scott asked her about him. She stirred the pasta sauce simmering in a cauldron-sized pot on the stove. “He’s probably reconnecting with old friends and is running behind.”

Or he’d forgotten. A dick move, given this dinner was for him.

Dad came into the kitchen from the backyard, where he’d been with Teddy and Fallon. Giving an exaggerated shiver, he shrugged out of his coat and hung it off the back of a chair. “Fallon sure likes the snow.”

“She spent three hours just sitting outside this afternoon,” Scott told him. “My neighbor even came over and said if I didn’t bring Fallon inside and get her warm, she’d call the cops on me.”

“That does seem like the kind of trouble you’d get yourself into.”

Scott gasped dramatically. “I am offended .”

Chuckling, Dad patted his shoulder as he slipped past him. “Beer?”

“Sure, thanks. Mom, can I help with anything?”

“Everything’s done,” she said. Indeed, the sauce was simmering, the pasta was cooked, and a hearty salad waited on the table. “We’re just waiting on your brother.”

Scott sent him a text.

Scott

Did you forget about dinner at Mom and Dad’s?

Sean’s reply was instant and succinct.

Sean

Fuck.

Be there in 10.

Scott pressed his lips together.

Figured.

“How’s the job hunt going?” Dad asked, handing him a beer.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you.” Scott sat on a barstool. “I got a job working at the concession stand at the community center.”

Mom wrapped half a baguette in tinfoil and stuck it in the toaster oven to warm. “Didn’t you work there in high school?”

“Yup.”

“Is that where you set the popcorn machine on fire?”

“What? No.” Now he really was offended on behalf of his adolescent self. “There was no popcorn machine when I worked there.”

“Hm. I must be thinking of someone else who has a penchant for torching their workplaces.”

Scott gave her the stink eye. “You’re not funny.”

“Your father thinks I’m funny, don’t you, dear?”

“Sure do, Madeleine,” Dad deadpanned.

Scott snorted a laugh, and for the first time in longer than he could remember, he wondered if he and his future partner would still be ribbing each other when they were in their sixties.

He couldn’t remember when he’d stopped seeing a partner in his future. In his third or fourth year practicing law, maybe? It hadn’t been a conscious thing, more of a gradual shift in perspective. When he saw seniors walking hand-in-hand down the sidewalk, he didn’t wonder what his future partner would look like. When couples dined in the same restaurant as him, he didn’t wonder if he and his future partner would enjoy the same foods. When his mom complained about his dad, Scott didn’t wonder how he and his future partner would settle petty arguments.

But now, sitting here as his dad pecked his mom on the cheek, Scott could imagine the same scenario for himself: trading kisses and barbs in equal measure while cooking the evening meal together.

It was all Hank’s fault. Scott hadn’t dated in years, hadn’t even really thought about it, and now here was Hank, putting all sorts of ideas in Scott’s head just by existing.

Scott had meant it when he’d said he was open to possibility, but there hadn’t been anyone who made him think of those possibilities until Hank.

Problem was, he had a feeling Hank would be a harder sell than Scott had been. Sure, they’d kissed. And Hank had seemed to be as into the kiss as Scott had been.

But now what? Hank had left with his dogs soon after Sean had arrived home last night, and they hadn’t had time to talk since. Scott had texted him this afternoon during a break in customers at the fair, a simple Hey! How are you? that was still unanswered.

Maybe this was the real reason Scott hadn’t dated in years: it sucked. Not knowing where he stood, second-guessing if a next-day text was too soon, wondering if Hank felt the same way he did.

Had Sean scared him off? Had Scott ?

Maybe the Hank cookies had been too much.

“Earth to Scott.”

He blinked, reality coming back into focus. He squinted at his parents. “Huh?”

“I asked if you have a lead on a job that will actually pay the bills,” Dad said.

“Oh. Uh, no. Not yet, but...” He ran a hand through his hair. “I haven’t exactly been looking. I know I should—I can’t live off my savings forever.” He needed to be able to provide for Teddy—that was, and always had been, his number one priority. But providing for Teddy was about more than being able to buy him new winter boots and providing a roof over his head. “I don’t want a job that will take away my evenings and weekends like the last one. I want to be able to spend those with Teddy.” And maybe, eventually, with Hank. “I don’t want a high-stress corporate job that will keep me up at night, and I don’t want to be taking phone calls from clients and partners at all hours of the day.”

“Your problem is that you’re looking too big picture,” Dad said. He leaned against the counter next to the stove, legs crossed at the ankles. “You’re trying to figure out where the next ten to twenty years of your career will take you, but what you really need is something for right now.”

Huh. There was an idea Scott hadn’t considered. He’d been so focused on the long-term that he hadn’t realized he should be thinking in the short-term. Teddy wouldn’t be around forever—he’d presumably head to college and start his own life independently from Scott’s, at which point Scott would no doubt spend a month crying into his pillow.

But it would free Scott up for more possibilities.

Maybe Dad was right and he should be looking for a job that would satisfy him now, and not necessarily now and ten years in the future.

The back door swung open and Teddy and Fallon stepped into the kitchen, one equally covered in snow as the other.

“Stop right there,” Mom said. She pointed at Teddy. “Boots off.” She pointed at Fallon next. “Sit.”

Fallon promptly sat.

Honestly. Did she listen to everyone except Scott?

“I’ll get you a towel to wipe Fallon’s paws,” Mom said to Teddy as she headed for the laundry room. She came back a moment later with an ancient beach towel.

Scott did the drying so that Teddy could remove his outerwear, and he’d barely finished when the front door opened and Sean stepped inside in his dumbass windbreaker. Fallon leaped out of Scott’s arms with a short bark, her tail whacking him in the face.

“Hi, girl,” Sean cooed from the foyer. “Hi. How’s my doggie?”

“My doggie,” Scott grumbled to no one as he picked himself and the towel off the floor with a groan. “Why don’t you lay your gloves on the heater there?” he said to Teddy, nodding at the grate in the floor under the window. “They’ll dry faster.”

“Hey.” Sean stepped into the kitchen, Fallon at his heels. He gave their mom a kiss on the cheek. “Sorry I’m late. What did I miss?”

“Not much.” Mom began dishing spaghetti into bowls. “We were just catching up.”

“Oh yeah? Was Scott telling you about the guy he was kissing last night?”

“What the...?” Red instantly filled Scott’s vision, and he glared at his brother.

Sean waggled his eyebrows.

What the fuck? Scott tossed the wet towel in his face.

“What guy?” Teddy asked, rising from his crouch by the grate. “I thought Hank was over for a doggie playdate.” His jaw dropped and he stared at Scott with wide eyes. “Oh my god! You kissed Hank?”

“Was it good?” Sean asked. “It looked good.”

Teddy made gagging sounds. “Ugh. Gross, Uncle Sean.”

“Who’s Hank?” Dad asked.

“I didn’t know you were dating,” Mom piped in, gesturing for everyone to sit while Fallon chose a spot on the sofa for a nap.

“I’m not. I’m...” Scott’s sigh held a hint of a growl, and he scowled at Sean again as they sat at the kitchen table that had seen tears, laughter, and more than one squabble in the past thirty-five years.

It was about to see another one.

Judging by the crease that deepened between Sean’s brows, he was beginning to clue in that he’d fucked up.

Swallowing past the annoyance in his throat, Scott caught Sean’s gaze. “I’m not dating,” he said slowly. He kept his gaze on Sean’s but he spoke to his parents. “If I was seeing someone, I would tell you if and when the relationship became serious so that I could introduce you.”

Sean winced. He opened his mouth?—

“I still don’t know who Hank is,” Dad said around a mouthful of spaghetti.

“He’s the hockey director at the community center,” Teddy responded quietly from next to Scott, clearly aware of the tension between Scott and Sean if the way he kept glancing between the two of them was anything to go by.

Scott’s chest squeezed, and the ball of anger in his throat made it difficult to chew his food. He hated— hated —that Teddy had found out about this from Sean. Teddy shouldn’t have found out about it at all—mainly because there was nothing to tell. It had been a kiss, nothing more. If it was more, it was up to him to decide when he told Teddy.

“Speaking of hockey,” Mom said in a clear attempt at a subject change. “Are you still working with Mik Gilmore, Teddy?”

Scott let the conversation continue around him and tried not to stew in his own head. He didn’t like it in there much—he was a doer, not a thinker, always had been. He needed to walk, to pace, to let loose the energy that was thrumming through him.

He didn’t get the chance to do that until after the dishes were cleaned and he, Teddy, Sean, and Fallon headed out to a chorus of “thanks for dinner” and “have a good night” and “love you.”

The walk back to the house was only a couple of blocks, but hopefully the brisk air and cheerful Christmas lights strung along roofs and around windows and up tree trunks would help clear the lingering anger from Scott’s chest. Teddy and Fallon walked ahead of him, Teddy’s boots crunching on the hard-packed snow. The pom-pom on his hat bobbed with every step, and Scott felt a rush of love so strong that it nearly took him to his knees.

He’d been dealing with a pending sense of loss from the minute Teddy had been born, knowing that at some point Teddy wouldn’t need him as much, might even move far away, and swear to god—that sense of loss got worse and worse every year.

Teddy was twelve. He’d be thirteen in a couple of weeks. Next year, he’d be a high school freshman.

Where had the time gone?

“Hey, wait up.”

Oh good. There was Sean, jogging to catch up to him. The very last person Scott wanted to talk to right now.

“Hey, uh...” Having finally caught up, Sean leaned closer to him and lowered his voice. “Should I not have said anything about last night?”

Scott shot him an incredulous look. “You think?”

“Sorry.” Sean’s defensiveness went up as quickly as Scott’s anger. “I thought you would’ve told them.”

“Maybe ask next time instead of announcing my personal business to the entire room?” Scott bit out. “If I wanted people to know, I’d tell them myself. You don’t get to tell Teddy things like that. If and when there’s anything to tell him, I get to decide when I do that. And this isn’t one of those times. That kiss obviously meant more to me than it did to Hank, so there’s literally nothing to tell.”

He didn’t realize he’d been close to yelling by the time he finished until they were standing on his front porch.

Which was when he’d realized what he’d said.

Groaning, he dropped his head back and closed his eyes against twin pairs of concerned gazes.

Fantastic. He’d outed his patheticness to them. Amazing.

The anger and annoyance left him in a rush, as did any ounce of energy he had left. He swung the door open and waved his family inside, weariness dragging his shoulders down. “Let’s get out of the cold.”

They removed boots and coats in silence aside from the sound of zippers being lowered and boots thudding to the floor and synthetic material brushing against itself. The silence was so uncomfortable that Fallon whined and fled upstairs.

“Did you finish your homework?” Scott asked Teddy.

“Uh-huh. Can I have an ice cream sandwich before bed? Grandma’s dessert tasted weird.”

“Yeah, what was that?”

Sean cleared his throat. “I think it was supposed to be cranachan. A Scottish dessert made with cream, raspberries, oats, and whisky.”

“Why were there peaches in it?” Scott asked.

“And raisins,” Teddy said with a shudder.

Sean’s lips twitched. “No idea.”

Teddy retrieved his ice cream sandwich from the freezer, and they dispersed into their bedrooms, calling goodnights as they went. Sean tried to catch Scott’s eye as he closed the door to his room, but Scott needed space. They could talk tomorrow.

He flopped face-first onto his bed, but he couldn’t breathe with his nose squashed into the pillow, so he flipped over and stared at the ceiling.

Was it possible he’d overreacted about . . . everything?

Maybe, just maybe, Hank wasn’t ignoring him. Perhaps he’d seen Scott’s text and meant to respond, but he’d gotten busy and forgotten. Could happen to anyone.

And maybe, just maybe, Sean hadn’t meant to be a dick. Perhaps he’d simply been making conversation and enjoying himself—at Scott’s expense, sure, but in hindsight, Scott didn’t think Sean had meant to hurt him.

Groaning, he passed both hands down his face and scrubbed hard. This was why he didn’t like living in his head. It was messy in there.

There was a quiet knock at the door. Scott sighed and dropped his hands from his face. Sean sure was persistent.

“Come in.”

But it was Teddy who entered.

Scott sat up. “Hey, kiddo. What’s up?”

“Um...” Teddy twisted his fingers together. “Do you want to watch a movie?”

“Sure.” His son wanted to willingly spend time with him—at 9:30 at night, but whatever. Scott would watch whatever he wanted. “What do you want to watch?”

“ Die Hard ?”

Except that.

“Nice try.” He bunched the pillows behind him and patted the bed next to him. “It’s not an appropriate movie for a twelve-year-old.”

“I’m almost thirteen,” Teddy muttered, climbing onto the bed. Fallon trotted into the room after him, jumped onto the bed, and cuddled next to him.

“The answer’s still no. How about Frosty the Snowman ? You used to love that one.”

“Yeah, when I was three.” Teddy pursed his lips and thought about it for a moment while Scott turned on the television. “ Arthur Christmas ?”

“Sure.” Scott found it on one of the many streaming services they subscribed to and hit Play.

As the movie started, Scott watched Teddy out of the corner of his eye.

Why did Teddy want to spend time with him at 9:30 on a school night? There was something on his mind—Scott could tell by the very fact that he didn’t laugh at any of the funny parts—so about ten minutes into the movie, Scott sucked in a deep breath and said, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about what happened with Hank.”

Teddy’s ears pinked. “That’s really okay. Like, really. I don’t need to hear anything more about kissing.”

So that wasn’t what was bothering Teddy then. Scott tried a different angle. “I would tell you if I was dating someone.”

Teddy looked at him, then away just as quickly.

Ah. That’s what it was then. Teddy had concerns about his dad dating.

According to every blog for single parents that Scott had ever read, it was normal for kids to worry about their parent dating. But it was no doubt extra worrisome for Teddy because Scott didn’t date. Oh, he’d tried. There’d been a couple of guys when Teddy was little—too little for him to remember. But Scott had been juggling single parenting with a new job, and he’d made it clear from the get-go that Teddy was his priority, so those dates hadn’t amounted to much. Scott had hooked up with a few guys since then, but there’d never been anyone serious enough to tell Teddy about.

“Would it be okay if I dated?” Scott asked quietly.

Teddy shrugged. “I guess. You never did before though. I always thought you were, um... What’s the word when someone doesn’t want romance?”

“Aromantic? No, I’m not aromantic. I’m just . . .”

Teddy shifted so he was lying on his side facing him. “Just what?”

“Well, you know what I did for work: helped people get divorced. And people have to get married to get divorced, and to get married, people date, and...” Scott blew out a breath. “It just turned me off the whole thing.”

Not that he thought dating would lead to marriage. But there was the possibility that he’d meet someone and fall in love and that person would want to get married while Scott did not. It would lead to a breakup, and Scott had no desire to bring someone into Teddy’s life who wouldn’t stick around.

Of course, Teddy was older now and would understand if a relationship fell apart, which... was something to think about some other day.

“But you want to date Hank,” Teddy said.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t want to date me,” Scott told him, the words sinking into his bones like a storm cloud.

Teddy’s eyes went sad. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. That’s life. Sometimes feelings aren’t returned, and you suck it up and move on.”

Rolling onto his back with a grunt, Teddy refocused on the movie. “Still. It’s too bad. I really liked his dogs.”

Chuckling, Scott swung an arm around him, gratified when Teddy didn’t pull away.