29. Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Emil

I blow out a breath, my nerves frayed. Not because of this , exactly. But, well, I’m not sure how he’s going to react.

Only one way to find out. Biting the bullet, I send Christian a text.

Me: Which one?

It only takes a moment before Christian appears at his window. My heart beats erratically as he stands there, not moving a muscle. His mouth forms a shape—my name, maybe?—and then he grabs his phone. My own rings a second later.

“What do you think?” I say, my words coming out fast. “Blue or red?”

“Specs,” he breathes. “Is that for me?”

My smile is a little shaky. “Merry Christmas.”

He lets out a puff of air. “Don’t move.”

Christian clicks off the call, and I look over at the dress form positioned in front of my bed. The neck is adorned with one blue tie and one red. “I think that went well, don’t you?” I ask the inanimate object. Thankfully, it doesn’t respond. “He was excited…right?”

Groaning, I tell the butterflies flapping around inside my stomach to chill. When my front door opens and shuts, I bite my fingernail, waiting. Christian appears in my doorway a second later, eyes wide. He’s already dressed for Christmas with my family.

I wish I could say I’m more excited, but there’s a knot in my stomach that’s been there all morning. Today is the day I confront my parents.

I’m not sure I’m ready.

“So?” I say, focusing on Christian.

He doesn’t answer, just walks over, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me. I fall back against the bed in my surprise, and Christian follows me down, body blanketing mine as he slowly steals my breath. Definitely excited .

“It’s too much,” he finally says, pulling back.

“It’s not,” I answer, smoothing my hands over his sides. “You deserve it, Christian.”

“Specs,” he says, dropping his face next to mine.

“Don’t make me return it,” I all but plead. “That thing took forever to assemble, and neither Arthur nor Hermin were any help.”

Christian chuckles against me, lifting enough to see my face. “God, Specs. Thank you. Your gift isn’t nearly as good.”

I shake my head. “Not a competition.”

“It’s just a bunch of highlighters and tabs and stuff for your note—”

“Where?” I say, pushing upright and looking around as Christian laughs beside me.

“They’re already wrapped and ready to go, Specs. You’ll have to wait to open them with the rest of the presents.” He pauses for a moment before asking, “Are you ready?”

That knot in my gut tightens again, but I drop my feet to the floor and straighten my shirt with more determination than I feel. “Yeah,” I say firmly. “Let’s go.”

Less than half an hour later, my confidence has all but dissolved.

“This is such a bad idea,” I moan. “Why did I wait until now?”

Christian gives my hand a squeeze from the passenger seat of my car. The engine is off, my parents’ house right there in front of us, waiting.

“This is the worst time for this,” I go on. “What was I thinking?”

“Breathe, Specs,” Christian says gently, his very presence soothing me. “It’ll be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

He hums. “I guess I don’t, but I believe it. And I know you can do this. You stood up for Henry. It’s time to stand up for yourself.”

“It’s so much harder.”

“Earlier this week, you got spit-roasted by me and Niko while giving new-guy Sean a handjob. Is it really harder than that?”

“Oh Jesus,” I wheeze. “Why’d you have to bring that up?”

“Because I knew it’d relax you,” he says, the cheeky bastard.

“Relax isn’t the right word,” I huff out. Although I do feel marginally better. “For the record, bringing up our sexual escapades, romantic or otherwise, is far from relaxing.”

“Mm. You looked pretty relaxed at the time.”

“Fuck-drunk,” I correct, letting Christian’s hand go so we can get out of the vehicle. “There’s a difference.”

“Noted,” he says, chuckling.

“I don’t know why I love you,” I mumble, trying to hide my smile.

He snorts. “It’s the skirts.”

“It’s not the skirts,” I say, grabbing his hand again as we walk up the steps toward the front door. “They’re just a bonus.”

His smile is warm. “You say the sweetest things, Specs.”

“I do not, and we both know it. Most of the shit that comes out of my mouth is a disaster. But you’re nice enough not to point it out. Fuck . This is going to be a disaster, too. It’s not too late to just…leave. We could just leave and try again another time.”

“But it’s Christmas,” Christian says lightly, facing me as we come to a stop at the front door. “Henry and Rebecca are here, and I know you want to see them. Plus, you brought presents.”

I grip the bag tighter.

“It’ll be fine , Specs. You can do this. You’re brave and smart and good, and your parents love you. I don’t think they want to hurt you.”

“I don’t either,” I admit softly.

He squeezes my hand. “So just be honest with them. I think you’ll be surprised. I think they’ll turn it around, the same as they have for Henry.”

I nod, knowing he’s likely right. It’s what I’ve been telling myself over and over since Thanksgiving, after all.

“My therapist says I’m catastrophizing the outcome in my head,” I say. “Because then, no matter what happens, it’ll be better than I anticipated.”

Christian hums. “And you? What do you think?”

“I think I’ve spent a long time not saying anything, and I’m afraid it’s my own fault. That all of this is entirely my fault.”

Christian lets out a small breath and steps in close. His wintergreen scent hits me, a gentle cocoon, and then the man himself is wrapping his arms around my shoulders and pressing his cheek to the side of my head. “It’s not your fault, Specs. What did you say to me when I asked you about destiny? You told me we can never truly control others.”

“No, we can’t,” I agree.

“Your parents’ actions are not on you,” he says. “But now’s your chance to speak up. You can stay in the past where nothing is capable of changing. Or you can leap and know that, no matter what happens here today, I’ll be there to catch you on the other side, okay?”

“Yeah,” I breathe out, my tension dropping. “Fuck, why are you so great?”

“Well, see, I’ve been dating this really smart doctorate-of-psychology-in-training. And I think he might be rubbing off on me.”

I snort a laugh. “I do rub off on you a lot.”

“Yes, you do, and I love it,” he says, squeezing me before easing back. “Ready to walk in there?”

I brush a kiss against Christian’s cheek. “Ready.”

I can hear Rebecca and Henry as soon as I open the door. The smell of pine hits me, too, likely from the candles inside the foyer, seeing as my parents’ tree is artificial. I let go of Christian’s hand to take off my shoes, and it’s not long before my siblings cue in to the fact that we’re here.

“Hey,” Rebecca says, bounding over. She tugs the bag of presents out of my grip. “Thanks.”

“Those are for everyone,” I call after her, shaking my head as she disappears around the corner. Seeing my brother, I add, “Hey, Henry.”

He deigns to grace us with a nod.

“Where are Mom and Dad?” I ask.

“Kitchen,” Henry answers.

Turning to Christian, I speak quietly. “Give me some time alone with them?”

“You sure?” he asks, talking just as low.

I nod. “Yeah. I need to do this part on my own. You can keep the youngins busy.”

Christian gives my glasses a small nudge. “You got this, Specs.”

As my boyfriend heads into the living room, I make my way down the hall. My mom is standing in front of the fridge, putting what I assume are leftovers from breakfast inside as my dad washes dishes at the sink. I stop for a moment, steeling myself.

“Hey.”

Mom turns her head. “Hey, hon. Is Christian with you?”

“Yeah, uh, he’s in the living room. Could we talk for a second?”

My mom frowns slightly as she shuts the fridge door. “Of course. What’s up?”

Feeling like I might fidget out of my skin, I head to the table and take a seat. My mom follows, shooting Dad a glance. He dries his hands before joining us.

“So, uh, I don’t really know how to say this,” I start, staring at the wooden table. I trace a groove with my fingertip, pulse hammering. “So I’m just going to do it. Sometimes…I feel invisible inside this house. I feel like you guys don’t even know what’s going on in my life, and that you don’t care. And I try to talk to you, but there’s always more important things. And…and it makes me feel shitty to even say it, but I want you to see me. Sometimes I just…I want to know that you see me.”

Silence falls, and I focus on the table, on the tiny divot in the wood, instead of the way my throat is burning. My mom is the first to speak.

“Emil, hon. I had no clue you felt that way. I… I’m sorry for making you feel less important than the other things going on in my life. That was never my intention. I…” She lets out a small breath, but I can’t quite bring myself to raise my eyes. “You’ve always been so fiercely independent, and I didn’t realize you needed more from me. From us.”

“Your mother’s right,” my dad cuts in. “It’s no excuse. But, son… You were so well-behaved as a child. You never got into trouble. Never needed us to come to your aid. You’re smart, and you’ve been successful at forging your own path in this world. And I guess, like your mother, I thought that meant you didn’t need us in your pocket. I’m sorry if we’ve let you down.”

Shit .

My lip wobbles, and I nod a little weakly, my fingernail adding a new scratch into the wood.

“We shouldn’t have assumed,” Mom says. “Hon, would you please look at me?”

I do, raising my head slowly. I’m unsuccessful in stopping the tear that slips down my cheek, and my mother’s face falls. She scoots closer, squeezing my arm.

“Emil, I’m so proud of the man you are. And if I haven’t said it enough, that’s on me. I think, as parents, it’s hard to know where the line is. Julian and Eloise…they hated when I hovered, and I learned to back off. All I’ve wanted for my children is for them to be happy. To be able to spread their wings and follow their own dreams. But it seems I’ve made mistakes, and for that, I am sorry. I love you, and I’m proud of you, and nothing could ever change that.”

I nod tightly, not knowing what to say.

“Oh, hon,” my mom says, standing. She steps forward, wrapping me in her arms, and I hug her back, my cheek on her stomach and my eyes stinging. The next moment, my dad is there, too, his hand on my shoulder, his other smoothing over my hair.

“Emil,” my dad says, voice uncharacteristically gruff. “We’re not perfect, but we love you unconditionally, and it’s been a true honor to see the man you’ve grown into. One who’s inquisitive and kind. One who possesses a great deal of strength to come to us like this. I’m sorry we’ve ever made you doubt how much we care. If you give us the chance, we’ll do better. I swear it.”

I nod again, not sure I can manage anything more than that, and for long minutes, that’s how we stay. My parents, holding me in the kitchen, carefully bandaging old wounds I thought long since scabbed over.

When I lean back, they let me go. I swipe at my eyes as my mom retakes her seat next to me.

“Would you help me with dinner before Julian and Eloise arrive?” she asks. “We can catch up, and you can tell me about how your research project is going.”

“Yeah,” I croak out. “I’d like that.”

“Christian, too,” she says softly. “I’d love to know more about that man of yours and how you two met.”

I nearly choke on my spit, but it turns into a short laugh instead. “Yeah. Sounds great.”

When I finally leave the kitchen, my eyes are puffy but my chest feels light. Lighter than it’s been in some time. I stop at the edge of the living room, spotting Christian sitting on the couch next to Henry. Rebecca is across from them in a chair, her legs folded up as she gestures animatedly.

I catch Christian’s eye. He shifts in his seat like he’s about to stand, but I shake my head and point toward the stairs. He nods, and I head that way, needing a moment to breathe.

After washing my face in the upstairs bathroom, I meander down the hall, stopping outside my old room. It’s a guest room now, the decor more sophisticated than it was during my teenage years. I step inside, sitting on the bench seat in the window that overlooks the backyard.

“Hey,” Christian says softly, appearing in the doorway.

“Hi.”

He meets me at the window, taking a seat beside me. “All right?”

“Yeah,” I say, even though I feel wrung out, numb almost. “It was… It was actually really good. They were really great about it. I wish… I wish I’d said something sooner, you know?”

He squeezes my knee, letting his hand rest there. “You said something now. That’s what’s important.”

“Yeah. Fuck , my therapist would be so proud,” I say, huffing a laugh and removing my glasses so I can rub my eyes.

“I’m proud of you, too, Specs. Is that weird to say? I never had siblings or a boyfriend to be proud of before. But it’s like… Sometimes I look at you, and I get this pressure in my chest and this feeling of that one’s mine, just look at him . Is that weird?”

“No,” I rasp, replacing my glasses. “I feel that way about you, too. You’re beautiful, Christian. Inside and out.”

His expression softens, dark brown eyes so very warm. “I guess love is turning us into saps, huh? Who knew?”

I huff a laugh. “Literally everyone. Everyone knows that.”

Christian snorts. “Well, I like being a sap for you.”

“Jesus, that was terrible,” I grumble, lips twitching. “So cheesy. I’m not sure I can be seen with you anymore.”

He makes a sound of protest before grabbing me around the middle and tugging me onto his lap. I scramble, arms wrapping around his shoulders as Christian buries his face in my neck and nips my skin.

“Take it back,” he says, soothing the bite with his tongue.

“Fuck,” I breathe, my cock taking interest as Christian’s hands smooth down my back and land on my ass. “You can’t…” I huff out a breath as his lips brush underneath my jaw. “Can’t give me a boner at my parents’. It’s not allowed.”

“It could be my Christmas present,” he says, although his hands travel upwards, back into neutral territory.

“You already got your present, and ah God , do that again.”

Christian chuckles before obliging, sucking on my neck. Not long enough to leave a hickey, but enough to feel his desire to do so thrumming underneath the surface.

“I take it back,” I say on a moan. “You’re wonderful and not too cheesy, and later, you can bite my neck for real so everyone knows how proud I am of my perfectly sappy, filthy boyfriend. Okay?”

“So okay,” he says.

“Uh, Emil?”

I freeze before scrambling off Christian’s lap. Rebecca stands in the doorway, not looking remotely freaked out by what she walked in on, but I feel bad all the same.

“Hey, Bec,” I say as casually as I can. Christian adjusts his floor-length skirt next to me. “Need something?”

“Um, could we come in?” she asks, sparing a glance to her side, where I assume Henry is standing.

“Of course.”

Rebecca nods before coming into the room, Henry following after her with his video game in hand. “Move over,” my sister tells me, shoving me none too gently so she can join us on the window seat. I huff a laugh as Henry settles on the floor, his shoulder bumping my leg.

“What’s going on?” I ask.

“I overheard part of your conversation with Mom and Dad,” Rebecca says, making my gut swoop. “So I asked Christian what it was about, and he explained.”

Christian gives me an apologetic wince, but I shake my head, letting him know it’s fine.

Rebecca heaves out a breath. “Can I tell you a story?”

Confused, I nod. “Okay?”

My sister settles her legs under her before she starts to speak. “Once, there was this prince named Emilio.”

I huff a laugh, but my sister shushes me, swatting my leg before going on.

“ Emilio ,” she stresses, “had the weight of the world on his shoulders. For, you see, he was an older brother, and his siblings looked up to him. When they were scared, Emilio calmed them. When they had nightmares, he snuck into their rooms and told them tales of ogres and giants and princesses in castles. And he never once asked for anything in return.”

My throat closes up as Rebecca tells her story, her gaze on her hands in her lap.

“Emilio was so brave, but he didn’t seem to realize it. He was brave because he fought battles all on his own. He was brave because he scared away the monsters under the bed. He was brave because he taught two little kids what it means to love from a place that’s pure and selfless and kind. He was my hero, you see.”

Fuck . Christian grabs my hand when I reach for him, and he squeezes tight.

“But sometimes, heroes go unseen,” Rebecca says solemnly. “They never ask for accolades or parades in their honor. So that’s why Emilio’s little sister wants him to know that she appreciates him. More than she’s ever found the words to say. And she loves him. And some day, if she becomes a mom, she’ll tell her kids all about their uncle, the prince, the bravest man she knows. The best storyteller. And hopefully, Emilio will know that there are people out there who are better because of him.”

My sister doesn’t protest in the least when I pull her into my arms. She hugs me back, sniffling quietly as I lose the battle against my own tears. Henry is still holding his game, but he stopped playing the moment Rebecca started talking, and his hand is curled around my leg, a hug in its own right.

“Thank you,” I manage to tell them.

Sometimes people are capable of surprising you. They show up when you need them the most. My parents, my siblings, Christian… They showed up for me today.

I’ve never been very good at change. New shells. New homes. Speaking up simply because it’s time.

But change can be good. Great, even.

And the important people… Well, I think they change right along with you.