“Which reminds me we’ll be needing tickets to your first show.”
Aubrey smiled. What did they think he got them for Christmas? “We’ll see.”
They hadn’t done much more than open boxes when the doorbell rang. Aubrey’s mom set down the garland she was holding and headed to the foyer. “That’ll be Rachel and Tim.”
“We brought mimosas,” Rachel said cheerfully as she and Tim entered a few minutes later.
“And cinnamon buns,” he added.
“I’ll put on another pot of coffee,” Aubrey’s dad said. It did not escape Aubrey that he was conveniently going to be away from the ladder for the next several minutes.
The advent of booze and breakfast—and, Aubrey found to his own surprise, company—improved the decorating experience immeasurably.
“I think if I get the angle right, I might be able to land this in one of the upper branches,” Tim said idly, hefting a glass ornament the size of a softball.
“And if you miss, you can land in my mother’s bad books indefinitely,” Aubrey pointed out. Then he shoved another piece of cinnamon bun into his mouth. God, it was still warm.Blesshis cousin and her foresight.
Tim’s face fell.
Aubrey licked his fingers clean of the last of the cinnamon sugar and held out his hand. “Give it here. I’ll do it.”
Rachel laughed into her mimosa, flush-cheeked, grinning, and happy, and Aubrey relished it. His childhood should have been like this. He spared a flash of bitterness that it hadn’t been, but he couldn’t do anything about that now. Hecouldmake sure he had more holidays like this one.
It was almost perfect, with just one thing—one person—missing. Nate would be on a plane again now, if not already back in Michigan with his parents. He’d been looking forward to seeing his niece. Aubrey would call him later… maybe on Skype. Nate was pretty irresistible with children, and it was Christmas. If Aubrey wasn’t going to see him in person, he should get to see him with a baby.
An hour or so later, they’d run out of ornaments and ambition to attempt reaching the top of the tree. As a result, the decorations mainly clustered around the bottom two thirds, leaving the top naked and sad.
It was still kind of nice, though.
“So next year,” Aubrey said, turning to his mother. She was lounging with her feet up, mimosa in hand, and she raised her eyebrows in invitation. “Hire the decorator and we’ll just do the mimosas. Therapists don’t know everything.”
Now she raised her glass as well. “I always knew you got my brains.”
Aubrey’s dad accepted this with a mild smile, and Rachel and Tim exchanged grins as well. Which just figured. Maybe next year he’d get to be something other than the fifth wheel.
If he could convince Nate they were worth fighting for, at least.
But before he could get any further into his own self-pity, the doorbell rang again. “Who else did you invite?” he asked his mother. Maybe she was going to have someone deliver an actually decorated tree?
“Nobody,” she said, shaking her head. “Everyone’s here.”
Well, obviously not. Aubrey heaved himself off the couch to answer the door. Maybe someone had ordered a last-minute gift?
But when he opened the door to the drizzly Vancouver morning, it wasn’t a beleaguered delivery person on the doorstep.
It was Nate.
Aubrey’s mouth dropped open.
“Merry Christmas,” Nate said, dripping ice water from his eyelashes. “I hope your mom loves me as much as you think she will.”
“HOW DIDyou even find us?” Aubrey asked, ushering Nate into the guest house on his parents’ palatial estate. Nate guessed this must be where Aubrey was staying while he was in town, which was kind of hilarious. He easily could’ve taken a room in the mansion and had enough privacy that he wouldn’t have seen another soul unless he wanted to.
“Honestly? Luck. I ran into Jackson Nakamura in the airport.” He managed a partial smile as he worked off his boots. It was the polite thing to do in Canada, and his socks were wet through.
Aubrey helped him wriggle out of his coat. That was soaked as well. “Was that your rental car in the driveway?”
Nate winced, not relishing the way his shirt and jacket clung to him or the way he smelled after so much air travel. His eyes felt like sandpaper. But there was a manic energy humming beneath his skin too. “What, you don’t like it?” It was a bright green Kia Soul that had barely made it up the steep driveway. “It’s December 24. Options were limited.”