Chapter 30

CHAPTER THIRTY

MARY

“Mom, you didn’t need to say they’re all from Santa,” Aidan says, looking at the tags on the gifts beneath the tree and shuffling his feet in anticipation. He groans and shakes a red-wrapped gift. “You even said this one for Jace is from Santa. We know that’s a lie, right, Jace?”

Eyes twinkling, Jace grins at him. “My mom did it too, buddy, right up until I was a teenager. It’s something moms do because it’s fun to believe the stories.”

Aidan mulls this over. “I won’t be a teenager for another six years, six months, and four days. That’s a really long time. You don’t have to do it for that long, Mom. I know they’re from you.”

Still, he doesn’t seem upset by the ruse. In fact, I suspect part of him is pleased that he gets to keep a piece of what was in the midst of so much change.

Yesterday wasn’t what you’d call easy.

I made Aidan his favorite snack—which is currently a slice of Mrs. Rosa’s gingerbread, cut exactly half an inch thick (someday I’ll get him to like carrot sticks, but even though he’s been eating better over the last couple of weeks, he’s still picky)—and sat him down at the kitchen table to talk about Glenn. I didn’t tell him that Jace and I sent his father away by threatening to release the file Nicole had prepared for me. (Oh God, I’m going to be disbarred, aren’t I?) Nor did I tell him that Glenn turned white in the face and then, on the way out, blamed me for never satisfying him in the bedroom. I thought Jace was going to go after him then, despite knowing about the whole Glenn trying to set us up ploy, but I tugged him back, and then Dottie emerged from the hallway to tell us Aidan was asleep. The sight of her made Glenn lose even more color. “Oh, bother,” she said, smoothing her shock of bright hair. “The effect was immediate, which was very promising, but I was hoping it would knock him out for longer. Would you drink another cup, young man? I’ll put more valerian in it this time.” He ran out then, muttering something about crazy people and poisoned tea.

No, a son didn’t need to know those things about his father. So instead, I sat Aidan down and said, as firmly as I could, that we wouldn’t be seeing Glenn anymore because our lives had taken different paths—his was in Northern Virginia and ours was here in Asheville, with Maisie and Molly and Dottie. It didn’t mean there was anything wrong with us—it only meant he was wrong for us. Aidan could still see his grandparents if he wanted, as much as he wanted, but we were done with Glenn.

I meant that, but even so, I’m going to have a long conversation with Ruth in the near future.

The whole time I talked, my voice wavering, Aidan played with his fidget spinner or zipper, his movements tight and repetitive, intensifying when he asked me what would happen if I ever decided my life needed to go down a different path—something that made me choke back sobs as I assured him I would never, ever leave him. That our paths were braided together and always would be, because I would accept nothing less.

He didn’t break down, though. He didn’t call me a liar or tell me his father had come here to be with us. He didn’t tell me he wanted to see Glenn.

At the end, he just asked, in a small voice, “What about Jace?”

“What about him, honey?”

“You said our home was with Aunt Maisie and Aunt Molly and Dottie, but you didn’t say anything about Jace.” He paused, his face scrunching up. “Dottie told me that you two are in romantic love, like Maisie and Jack and Molly and Cal. She said she read it in your auras, but I don’t think auras are a real thing, Mom. I think they’re pretend, like Santa Claus and ankylosauruses and brontosauruses living in the same timeline.”

I could have been pissed, but then again, Dottie had helped us the previous night, even if her methods were questionable. Besides, part of me thought it best for him to know the truth. There’d been too many lies, honorably intended or not, and Aidan was someone who, at his core, valued things that were straightforward.

“Yes, Aidan, I love Jace too, and I’m hoping he can be a friend to both of us. Is that okay?”

He shot me a serious look before glancing off to the side, the zipper of his sweatshirt going up and down, up and down, and up—my nerves pulling taut with it. “I don’t know if that’s a great idea, Mom. You were friends with Dad, and that didn’t work out so well. I don’t want Jace to leave, and I don’t want you to leave either.”

“Aidan,” I said through another surge of emotion, “I will never, ever leave you willingly, and I know the same is true of Jace, no matter what happens between him and me. But I hope the three of us can be friends together. That’s what I want more than anything. Your dad and me…we haven’t been friends for a long time. I think maybe he’s not the kind of person who likes to have friends.”

He was quiet for a long time, long enough that I wondered whether his mind had moved on to something else or if he’d decided he was done with our talk. But then he said, “I think that’d be okay. I like it here, Mom. I like it here better than anywhere in the world. Our gray house wasn’t a nice place.”

His words surprised me for a moment, because that house was truthfully much nicer than this one. His room was twice as big, the lighting was better, and a tree in the backyard had a limb that resembled an ankylosaurus’s tail. But he’s not really talking about the house. He might not realize it, but he’s talking about the stifling atmosphere. About the way it always felt as if the other shoe was about to drop.

Aidan spent a lot of time in his cool-down zone after that, but he emerged later in the afternoon and asked me to help him wrap his presents. And when Jace came back last night, he said, “You’re home!” and it felt like something inside of me clicked. Jace is a part of our lives, and based on what he said last night, it sounds like Ben will be too.

Reconnecting with his nephew unleashed a new peace inside Jace, something I understand well as I sit around the Christmas tree with him and Aidan, Jace wearing a red Christmas sweater Mrs. Rosa bought him at a festival and Aidan still in his dinosaur pajamas. I’m in a festive outfit because, despite all the changes I’ve made, I couldn’t bear to come out in my pajamas.

I feel content. I feel…merry. Molly would say that’s a terrible dad joke, but I do feel merry in a way I haven’t experienced since I was a kid, when Maisie and Molly and I would wake our parents at six in the morning because we were too eager to open presents to wait.

The plans for Christmas dinner have changed, something that would have agitated me a couple of months ago—okay, it still agitates me a little, as it starts in a matter of hours, for goodness’ sake!—and apparently Cal and his father will now be hosting it at an address they’re going to send out a half hour before the meal. (Something tells me Nicole was their inspiration.) I suspect Maisie, who was supposed to host, was recruited by Cal in his surprise Molly plan, although she hasn’t given anything away.

Molly is being strangely silent about the whole thing too, which I take to mean that she figured the whole thing out months ago and is letting Cal have his moment. I’ll bet her bags are already packed.

“Can I open them?” Aidan asks, looking from me to Jace. “I think it’s going to take a pretty long time.”

I already have a bag out for the wrapping paper, so I nod. “Do you know which one you’re going to start with?”

He takes a very long perusal, studying present after present, and Jace and I exchange a fond look. More sweetness added to my cup.

Finally, Aidan lifts up something bulky and, apparently, heavy. I neither wrapped it nor put it under there, and since there is no Santa Claus, my gaze shifts to Jace, even as Aidan says, “I want to open this one, Mom! It’s for both of us, from Jace. I’d rather open his present first, because he’s a real person.”

I whirl on Jace. “I thought we weren’t doing gifts!” He’d insisted that hiring Dennis was the greatest gift I could have given him and he didn’t want anything else. I had listened. Mostly. I helped Aidan frame the ankylosaurus painting for him. Plus, I couldn’t resist getting him a few odds and ends from “Santa.”

He smiles at me. “I never agreed to that. Are you going to open it?”

There’s something a little nervous about him, and it’s so charming that I almost kiss him, but even though Aidan knows about us, mostly, we agreed to take things slowly around him. So I settle for taking Jace’s hand and squeezing it. “Do the honors, Aidan.”

He very methodically removes the wrapping paper, as if we might want to turn around and use it for something else, and pulls out a beautifully polished wooden stand.

“You made that?” I ask Jace in wonder, because I instantly know he must have. “It’s the most beautiful—”

There I pause because, honestly, I don’t know what it’s for. I just know that I love it. Because it really is beautiful, and he made it, and when was the last time someone besides Aidan made me something with their own hands?

“You don’t know what it is, do you?” he asks, grinning at me.

“Of course I do! It’s…”

I was hoping my answer would buy me time, but I’m still clueless. Thankfully, Aidan steps in. “It’s for our blankets, Mom! Remember how you told Jace you didn’t know what to do with them, and then one day you found a bug wrapped up in one of them after you shook it out, and you screamed and hit it with a broom?”

In the past, I might have found that embarrassing, but I’m stuck on Jace’s thoughtfulness. That was such a small moment, but he remembered it, and he spent his free time—of which I know he has little, in between spending so many hours with us and working at his day job and helping Cal—to fix our problem. He made something for our household because he’s a part of it, and I suddenly have tears in my eyes.

Jace takes my hand again, weaving his fingers through mine. “You know, if you loved it because you envisioned some other genius use for it, you should know it’s an equal opportunity rack.”

“Um, actually,” Aidan says, “I think we do need it for the blankets.” He starts toying with his zipper. “You know, you can kiss each other if you want. I know people who are romantic kiss each other, and Dottie already told me everything.”

I look at my son with something like wonder. This is not something I expected, and based on the look on Jace’s face, he’s just as surprised as I am.

Glancing from Aidan to me, then back, his eyes warm and full of love, Jace says, “I won’t say I don’t like kissing your mom, Aidan, because I don’t want to lie to you. But right now, I think I’d like it best if we could all hug each other.”

And so we do.

It’s the best part of Christmas morning, even though I find two more surprise packages under the tree, one from Dottie—a tea blend attuned to my aura, which I will not be trying anytime soon—and one from Nicole—two tickets to Grease , which feels more like an order than a true gift. We’ll go, of course. She did save me from an inconvenience with Glenn, if not outright trouble from him. Besides, I kind of want to see Damien’s monologue.

“Is this it?” I ask, sucking in a breath.

“It is,” Jace confirms, pride ringing in his voice.

He should be proud. Although I don’t know what the house looked like before, it’s gorgeous now, like a dollhouse blown up to scale. There are purple shutters and a yellow door, and good lord, my sister is going to love this place. I think Cal will officially become Uncle Cal before too long.

“It’s lovely,” I say.

“Some present,” Roger huffs from the back seat.

“Roger,” Jace grumbles. “That was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Who’s it a present for?” Aidan asks with utter innocence, and since a quick glance around the car is enough to convince Jace that (a) all the adults already know, and (b) it’s very unlikely anyone besides Aidan will be surprised today, he says, “Your aunt Molly’s boyfriend renovated this house for her. A few other guys and I helped him. It’s her Christmas present.”

“Whoa,” Aidan says. “I didn’t know you could get a whole house for a Christmas present. I’ll have to rethink my Christmas list next year.”

Roger laughs as if it’s a joke, but I’ll probably have to have a managing expectations talk with Aidan in the near future.

We’re early—we were close to the house when we got the location text from Cal and Bear—and there are only two cars parked on the side of the Victorian. Maisie’s, plus Dottie’s little hand-painted VW Bug. Molly’s car isn’t here yet, so we might still be able to see her pretend to act surprised, and there’s no sign yet of Jack’s siblings and their families, although I expect he warned them about Cal’s plan. They’ll probably give us a little space before they show up.

We park at the curb and pile out, moving slowly to ensure Roger can keep up, and Maisie and Jack meet us on the porch, Mabel strapped to Jack’s chest. Dottie stands with them, a radiant smile on her face.

“Did you get my gift?” she asks hopefully.

“Uh, yes,” I say. “Is it a sedative tea?”

Maisie stifles a laugh.

“Of course not!” Dottie says. “It’s attuned to your aura. It’s meant to help you unwind.”

“Sounds a lot like a sedative tea,” Jace says in an undertone, putting a hand on the small of my back. I’m wearing a coat, but I can still feel it there, warm and solid.

I introduce Jace to Jack and Mabel, whom he hasn’t met yet, and we introduce everyone to Roger, who almost instantly launches into a long, convoluted conversation with Dottie involving the construction of some now-infamous building in downtown Asheville. Aidan is eager to go inside, but I convince him that we should wait for a tour until Molly has seen her house.

The slightly wry twist to Maisie’s lips suggests she’s already let herself inside.

We don’t have long to wait, though, before Cal’s truck pulls into the driveway.

“Should we have wrapped a red ribbon around it or something?” Jack asks under his breath, Mabel cooing as if she likes the idea.

“Uncle Jack,” Aidan says with a serious look, “a ribbon that long would be very hard to find on short notice, especially at Christmas time. Santa isn’t real, but people still wrap gifts.”

We all laugh, our eyes affixed to the truck. Even Dottie and Roger have stopped talking.

I lean into Jace, and he wraps his arm around me, even as I put mine around Aidan. Even though my eyes are on Molly, I can feel Maisie eyeing us with satisfaction. Maybe she feels she played a part in this all those years ago, when she took a chance and let a man with a difficult past adopt one of her rescue animals.

Molly gets out of the truck, her eyes wide as she surveys the house. “Holy shit, this looks way better than it did on Street View. It’s ours, isn’t it?”

We all sputter laughter as Cal circles around the truck and takes her into his arms, twirling her around and then dipping her for a kiss.

If he’s disappointed that his surprise wasn’t a surprise, he doesn’t show it. Then again, he knows Molly. Maybe he expected her to find out, and part of her fun was supposed to be the joy of unraveling a mystery. The fact that she didn’t do a drive-by suggests that she did want to keep part of it a surprise.

Cal’s father exits the back seat of the truck, a huge smile on his face, but it falters a little as his gaze lands on the corner of the porch, where Dottie and Roger appear to have resumed their conversation.

Huh. Is he interested in Dottie?

I make a mental note to talk to Molly about it, and then suddenly we’re all greeting each other with hugs and Merry Christmases. Molly, who hasn’t met Jace yet—something that feels wrong at a gut level—embraces him as if they’re old pals and says, “Oh, thank God. I worried she’d chosen another pencil dick.”

“Molly!”

Aidan stands off to the side a little, the way he does in crowds, and I feel a crawling sensation of worry. I brought his headphones, but will they be enough protection once the larger group shows up?

Jace places a hand on my arm. “Don’t worry. Cal and I have this covered.”

My worry lifts, because I trust him. I know he would never do anything to make Aidan uncomfortable.

We all embark on a tour of the house, empty but for some temporary furniture Cal moved in for the dinner tonight—an enormous table and several chairs, a huge couch, and a Christmas tree in the corner. A veritable feast has been laid out on the granite counters and island of the kitchen, and the little placards next to each course suggest Dottie played a part in it. Cal’s father is a baker, though, and I imagine he prepared his fair share of dessert.

There’s some sort of synergy there, and I find myself wondering again about Dottie and second and third and fourth chances.

Cal leads the way through the house, which is just as lovely inside as it is outside. Of course, Molly is beside herself, and as we do our walk-through, Aidan and I pepper Jace with questions about what he did, where.

When we get to the basement, Cal leads us to a room and flicks on the light. This one has furniture—a cool-down tent just like the one he made for Aidan last month, only bigger. Inside there’s a projector casting images of dinosaurs against the side of the tent, plus a huge stuffed ankylosaurus. There’s a sound machine in the room too, producing white noise.

Cal clears his throat. “The floors and ceilings are pretty thick, so if you need a quiet place of your own once everyone arrives, Aidan, you can come down here. This room will always be yours.” He nods to Jace. “Jace helped me figure out what to put in here.”

I turn and look up at him, Aidan doing the same, and emotion clogs my throat. Aidan looks away before I do, and I barely manage to remind him, “Say thank you, Aidan.”

“Thank you,” he calls out, already ducking into the tent.

Dottie steps forward, holding out some sort of wind catcher with a large crystal hanging on the end. God only knows where she’s been keeping it. “I meant to hang this on the front porch earlier. It’s tourmaline, for luck. Why don’t you and Jace go hang it on the front porch, Mary? We’ll keep an eye on your dear boy.”

“Your son, she means,” Molly says, her eyes dancing now. “Not the other one. Jace is a very big boy. I think he can look after himself. If anyone else comes around, Dottie will dose them with tea.”

Cal’s father laughs, long and deep. “I expect there’s a story there.”

“You mean Cal hasn’t told you?” Molly asks, as if scandalized. “I’ve already told a dozen people. I even told Tina, and you know how serious her family is about Christmas togetherness. Her nonna disposes of phones at the door, but she’s wily. Shit. Tina is not going to be happy about me moving out.”

“She’ll get over it,” Cal says. “And I’ll admit my mind was elsewhere—sorry, Dad.”

They continue talking, Aidan still exploring his tent, but I take the wind catcher from Dottie, then grab Jace’s hand and lead him out. I can’t deny I want a moment alone with him, something Dottie must have realized.

We walk out in silence, hand in hand, as I take in this house that Jace helped Cal restore. My heart is full as we walk out the front door together.

“How are we supposed to hang that thing up?” Jace asks as we step outside.

I laugh. He’s right, there don’t appear to be any nails anywhere. “Maybe Dottie thinks you’re magic, or that construction guys carry around a toolbelt at all times.”

“I have been compared favorably to a magic wand,” he says, smiling down at me, his eyes carrying a dash of mischief.

“True. If anyone’s magic, I’m convinced it’s you, Jace Hagan. I never could have imagined any of this. I don’t think I dared to.”

Because it’s dangerous, feeling this happy. It makes you fear that someone’s going to swoop in and snatch it all away, but even if that happens—even if I lose everything—it will still have been worth it. Because living is always worth it. The fulfillment of letting yourself be yourself and finding other people who love you for you is so much more meaningful than the empty safety of a list lined with checks. (Of course, that’s not going to stop me from making lists; they’re very practical.)

He leans down and kisses me, a sweet kiss, telling me how much it means to him to be here with us, to be part of this loud, chaotic mess of a Christmas, and I deepen the kiss to tell him that I feel the same way. As we pull apart, looking into each other’s eyes, that’s when I spot it, a single nail, almost hidden against the haint blue paint of the overhang—perfect for Dottie’s charm.

“She knows everything,” I say in wonder as I point to it.

“Not quite everything.” He carries the wind catcher over and hangs it. “I’m reasonably sure she couldn’t have predicted everything that went down with Glenn the other night. And she doesn’t seem to have noticed that Cal’s father has taken a shine to her.”

“She will when she’s ready.” I know, because I did. Takes one to know one.

The wind catcher shines and spins in the afternoon light as a few snowflakes drift down, and is there anything more charming than a dusting of snow on Christmas? Even though I know it’s only a matter of time before Jack’s siblings show up, and even though I really did used to decry PDA, I pull Jace to me again, and I kiss him as the snow drifts down around us.

Santa Claus might not exist, but I think I can get behind this Christmas thing after all.