14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

December 23rd

“I can’t believe all these people came,” Rocco said incredulously.

Maybe a little too incredulous, but Taylor loved him for it anyway.

After all, he knew well enough how free food and drink could get people in the door, even when they were set against something. Even in Christmas Falls.

Bright balloons in purples and pinks and greens were gathered in bunches in the corners of Jolly Java, and Rebecca had hung a hand-lettered sign in the same colors that read “Happy Birthday, Marjorie” over the main counter.

The birthday girl herself would be here any minute. She’d been thrilled when Taylor had stopped by her place and invited her for coffee. He hadn’t let on that he knew it was her birthday, hoping to preserve the surprise.

“Well, at least a quarter of these people are your family,” Taylor teased.

Rocco laughed. “True. But I had a number of people tell me they weren’t invited by me or you or even them , but the Secret Santa? He sent invitations out.”

“Do we even know if it’s a he ?” Taylor wondered.

“I don’t think we know anything ,” Rocco said. “And you’d be in more of a position to know than me.”

“If I know something, you know something,” he said, nudging him.

Rocco had piled plates of cookies and scones on either side of the birthday cake he’d asked Joel McArthur to bake. Rebecca was manning the espresso machine, and they had a big bowl of punch, Nicoletta Moretti manning the drinks table, as well as two dispensers of hot chocolate and hot cider.

“She’s coming!” someone hissed. It might have been Enzo, or maybe Joel.

The crowd switched their expectant gaze to the door.

A minute later, it opened, framing Marjorie, her hair in riotous gray curls in a halo around her head and a bright red scarf wrapped around her neck.

“Surprise!” the crowd exclaimed .

She looked floored and thrilled and a little overwhelmed.

“What is this?” she said, exhaling sharply.

Taylor and Rocco walked over to her, gently guiding her to the table of honor where Rebecca had decorated one of the chairs with brightly colored streamers. “We heard it was your birthday,” Rocco said. “And we thought you might want to celebrate it properly.”

“I . . . yes ,” she said, her eyes glimmering with tears. “How did you know?”

“A little bird told us. But you can thank the Secret Santa for making sure your party was so well-attended,” Rocco said. “He sent out a bunch of invites, and everyone came.”

“Probably wondering if you’re the Secret Santa,” Taylor said with a knowing grin.

Marjorie’s smile was wide, even as a tear wound down her cheek. “Goodness, I wouldn’t even know where to begin. But this is . . .this is special. Thank you two. I’m all atwitter.”

“How about I get you some punch?” Rocco said. “And a piece of cake?”

“I made your favorite. Pumpkin spice with cream cheese frosting,” Joel said. “But before I cut it, we’ll have to sing. It’s tradition.”

Marjorie glowed. “I don’t know,” she demurred. “Aren’t I a little old for a birthday song?”

“Never,” Taylor said, reaching out and taking her hand, squeezing it .

It felt like the rafters of Jolly Java shook a little with the sound of the crowd singing Marjorie happy birthday, and if Rocco was being honest, his heart trembled, too.

Joel cut the cake, and after Rocco helped distribute it, Luca cornered him.

“This was a special thing to do,” he observed quietly. “And a pretty special community to come together to do it with.”

“You’d know, you’re part of a pretty special community yourself,” Rocco said as he picked up empty coffee cups and piled them in a bin.

Marjorie was holding court at her table, surrounded by Marlene, Mrs. Lil, and not surprisingly, Murphy Clark.

He’d brought her a present of her very own wooden gnome. And since Murphy’s waiting list for his custom carved gnomes was about three years at this point, it was even more special.

“Indigo Bay is special,” Luca agreed, referring to the small coastal Carolina town he and Oliver had settled in. “And your parents’ restaurant in San Francisco is special. Nonna’s, in Napa, is special. The food truck fleet Gabe and Ren have in LA is special. There’s so many special places you could have found a place in, and for awhile, I thought you’d made a mistake, not picking one of those and carving out your own place in one of them.”

Rocco knew his cousin had felt that way. Just as he’d known he’d had to make his own.

“I couldn’t,” Rocco said simply.

“I can see that now,” Luca said approvingly, patting him on the shoulder. “This is the right place for you to be. Just know, we’ll miss you terribly. We do miss you terribly.”

“Which is why you all ended up here for nearly two weeks at Christmas,” Rocco retorted lightly. “But I know, I miss you too. And still, I know with a family this size, I’ll never be lonely.”

“Never,” Luca said, his smile knowing.

“Plus there’s that guy over there,” Rocco said, glancing over at where Taylor was talking to Joel. “He doesn’t have the kind of family we do.”

“He does now,” Luca said firmly.

“He sure does,” Rocco agreed.

Rocco had a feeling that just him would have been enough for Taylor, but then the Morettis were an extra bonus, too.

Along with one other surprise Rocco had up his sleeve, for Christmas Eve.

Christmas Eve

“It’s called the Feast of the Seven Fishes,” Rocco explained to Taylor as Rocco’s aunts set the two long tables they’d created in Jolly Java with mismatched dishes and silverware. “Fish because traditionally Catholics were discouraged or even forbidden from eating meat on the eve of a feast day, like Christmas. ”

“You Morettis don’t do things small, do you?” Taylor knew that was true. But it was another to see it in action. The many dishes that would be set out, full of delicious food, and the sheer number of seats at the table.

All the Morettis would be here, of course, but not surprisingly they had invited a few other members of the community to celebrate with them.

Rocco laughed and shook his head.

“No, we don’t,” he agreed. “Hey, I’d better go help Luca and the rest with getting dinner on. Are you okay out here?”

“I’ll just help the aunties and your mom,” Taylor said, gesturing to where Nicoletta Moretti, Luca and Gabe’s mom, and Giana, Enzo’s mom, and Rocco’s mom, Bea, were setting the tables. “I’m sure they can find something for me to do.”

“Just don’t let them kidnap you forever. They might. They love you,” Rocco said. Leaned in, brushed a kiss across Taylor’s mouth. “And I love you, too.”

Taylor took one last kiss, making it a good one, before he finally let Rocco go and reported for duty.

Nicoletta asked him to grab the wine from the walk-in, and he was on his way in when the Jolly Java door opened.

He nearly called out that they were currently closed, so sorry, when his words died in his throat.

Because they weren’t some random Christmas Falls resident or even a tourist, unaware of what the coffee shop hours were .

It was a very familiar face, wearing an uncertain expression. Like he wasn’t sure he’d be welcomed.

Taylor was lucky he didn’t drop the wine.

Instead, he set it on the counter and rushed over to where his dad was hovering in the doorway.

“Dad!” he exclaimed. “You’re here!”

Taylor didn’t hesitate, just threw his arms around him. Not realizing, just like Rocco had said, only a week before, how much he hadn’t realized he’d missed his family until they were right here in front of him.

“Taylor.” His dad smelled the same as he always did, of peppermint and books. He’d been an adjunct professor of literature at the University of Chicago before retiring two years ago.

“I’m so glad you’re here.” Taylor realized, to his surprise, that his throat was actually tight with emotion.

“Really?” Walter looked surprised and that hit him harder than Taylor had imagined it would. “I wasn’t sure . . .but your new guy sent me an email and said, maybe I’d want to join in with the family celebration. I guess he’s from a big family?”

“A huge family,” Taylor agreed. “And of course I’m thrilled you’re here. I just thought . . .I thought you were busy. I didn’t invite you, even when I wanted to, because I always thought you’d be too busy—”

“Too busy for you?” Walter asked the question a little sharply, and Taylor realized how stupid that had been. “Never too busy for you. ”

Taylor swallowed hard. “I think that was kind of dumb of me,” he admitted. “I was . . .” He wasn’t sure he could explain it.

Like he’d been encased in a thin coating of ice, since Teresa Hall had died. Like he’d been too afraid to put himself out there, too afraid to take chances, too afraid to even embrace the family he had left. He’d tried, once, with Michael, and that had only reinforced the bad assumptions he’d carried with him.

But Michael wasn’t everyone, and he’d never been right for him. Taylor could see that now—but only because Rocco with his heat and his passion and his humor had melted all that ice right off him, when Taylor wasn’t even paying attention.

“It’s alright, son, we all deal with grief in different ways. I shut down too, after your mother died.” Walter Hall’s back straightened. “But that’s done with now. I won’t do it any longer.”

“I won’t, either,” Taylor promised, and he was suddenly dragged into another big hug.

“Now,” Walter said, when he finally let him go. “I want to meet this new man of yours. He seems pretty great, when I talked to him.”

“He is.” Taylor swallowed hard. “He’s incredible. I love him. And I think you’ll love him too.”

“Best Christmas present I could have asked for, for you,” Walter said with an approving nod. “You’ve been alone too long. ”

“Not anymore. Neither of us is alone anymore,” Taylor said, reaching for his hand and squeezing it. “Come on, come meet my boyfriend and your many new relatives.”

“Lead the way,” his dad said, squeezing back.

The table was strewn with the remnants of the many, many dishes the combined culinary talents of the Moretti clan had produced.

“I’m so full I think I’m going to burst,” Enzo said, leaning back in his chair. “Those mussels?” He kissed his fingers. “ Bellissimo .”

“If you’d believe it,” Luca teased from the other side of the table, “that recipe wasn’t even from us. Will made those.”

Enzo looked over at his boyfriend, who just flushed pink. Or maybe that was from all the wine they’d drunk with dinner.

It had been an incredible meal. Rocco wasn’t sure in all his years of Christmas Eves there’d ever been a Feast of the Seven Fishes quite like this one.

It wasn’t just the family and friends lining each side of the big long table, or the incredible variety and quality of the dishes they’d scattered up and down them—the mussels, of course; two huge branzinos that his dad had had flown in and Luca had stuffed with lemon and thyme and garlic; a delicate lobster and shrimp bisque that Joy and Giana had made, or even the enormous dish of stuffed calamari in tomato sauce that Gabe and Ren had made together, pureeing fresh tomatoes down and then simmering the sauce all day—it was the way they’d all come together to do it.

And, of course, it was the love in Taylor’s eyes as Rocco looked over at him.

He’d been a little bit worried that his big Christmas surprise might not be well-received, but when Taylor had come up to him in the kitchen, tears and joy in his eyes and had introduced him to his father, it was clear that not only was he forgiven for interfering, Taylor was actually grateful that he had.

“Best meal I’ve had in as long as I can remember,” Walter Hall said. “Son, you hooked up with the right family.”

Taylor laughed. “I think so,” he agreed.

“I think,” Luca said loyally, “the bread was amazing.”

Everyone laughed, because of course he did. Because Oliver had baked it.

Oliver elbowed him hard. “You’re ridiculous.”

Luca’s smile was soft, affectionate. “You love it.”

“I love you ,” Oliver retorted.

“You two are almost as sappy as the two brand-new lovebirds,” Enzo exclaimed.

“Oh, you no longer get that title, then?” Luca challenged.

Enzo spluttered. “Oh, we never gave it up,” he said .

“Speaking of that,” Taylor piped up, “did I ever tell you that Rocco suggested we fake date first, using you two as an example?”

Will laughed out loud. “No, he didn’t! Oh my God, you didn’t , Rocco!”

Rocco shrugged. “It was a good example. And okay, your whole fake relationship was never very effective.”

“Or fake at all,” Luca inserted.

“But it worked out,” Rocco claimed. “Why shouldn’t I want a little piece of that success for myself?”

“Oh, I think you got it,” Enzo said.

Rocco met Taylor’s gaze. “I think I did.” He leaned in to kiss him and Taylor just grinned.

“Goat cheese,” he murmured under his breath.

And nobody at the table knew why on earth Rocco laughed so hard he couldn’t stay upright—or why Taylor joined him—but really, all that mattered was that they knew and they were happy and life was actually, surprisingly, very, very good.