Twenty Years Later
IT’S DECEMBER twenty-fifth. The sun is shining, the waves are lapping at the shore, and their Christmas tree is an umbrella planted deep in the sand. William digs his toes into the tiny grains, watches his feet steadily disappear. For the moment, he’s alone on the beach, everyone else still asleep at the house. He’d driven out early, trunk loaded with presents for Brady, the kids, and the makeshift family they’ve acquired over the years. He’d left a note for them, under the real Christmas tree in the family room.
Being alive for two hundred plus years has its financial benefits. William is rolling in the proverbial dough. A nice house on an island in the Bahamas had seemed like the thing to do with that money. They’re a mere boat ride from civilization, and they’ve got a place all to themselves. It’s fantastic.
They’ve turned into beach bums.
William gives boat tours of the island to tourists, and Brady leads diving excursions and hikes.
Trisha had followed him to the Bahamas to act as a personal assistant and all-around lifesaver for William & Brady’s Bahama Excursions (lame name, but they couldn’t agree on anything else). He’d been surprised—and on the verge of tears—to find out how much Trisha cared for him. And she’d quickly adopted Brady into her big heart.
Neither of them had returned to their jobs after the Christmas that changed everything. Long discussions about what they both wanted had led them to decide starting over together was the right thing, and somehow they’d landed on this.
They’ve built a happy, successful life out of it.
They’ve got friends on the islands, two kids they adopted three and a half years apart, and a herd of animals—Brady picks up strays like it’s nothing.
William stares out at the softly flowing waves and is beyond grateful for how things have changed. He’d lived for so long dreading this time of year, stuck in a never-ending rut of despair and unable to imagine happiness like this. And yet he has it. The impossible happened. There’s gray in his hair that didn’t come from a box, and the wrinkles in his skin are from being in the sun and age. Not makeup.
Brady and he are aging together.
Another twenty years and Brady’s vision of the future will be a reality. They’ll be sitting in their chairs, soaking in the view and the sun.
It’s a scary but ultimately lovely thought.
He hears his family approaching before he sees them. Anastasia and Cole—ten and eight respectively—haven’t mastered the art of stealth yet. They’re loud and wild and currently bickering over who probably got the cooler presents. William rolls his eyes, knowing that Brady—walking alongside them and probably holding their hands—is no doubt doing the same. It’s a motion they’ve got synchronized by this point.
They’ve had Anastasia since the day she was born—the product of a teen pregnancy and a mother who had known from the start she wasn’t ready. Cole had come to them at a little over a year old. His parents had died in a car accident and been friends of theirs. They’d gladly taken him in. The two of them combined are an unholy nightmare of impish attitude and endless energy wrapped in partially toothless smiles and big “I didn’t do it” eyes.
William and Brady love them more than anything.
Cole slams into William, giggling and throwing his arms around him. “Merry Christmas,” he shouts, high voice nearly deafening William.
William stands and swings him around, encouraging the shouting and laughter. Sand flies everywhere, making noise as it bounces off the wrapping paper. Brady’s grinning broadly at him, and William returns it over Cole’s shoulder, crouching and holding out an arm so Anastasia can barrel into him. He kisses the top of her head, repeating her muffled “Merry Christmas” back to her.
Beside Brady is Trisha and her girlfriend, Ginger. Ginger is anything but ginger. She’s five foot two and has a thing for five-inch heels. Her hair is a dark brown-black color, and her skin is light brown. She’s gorgeous and fiery, and she drives Trisha absolutely crazy. She’s a dancer at one of the tourist bars, and she teaches online eighth grade math.
The second he lets go of the kids, they’re tearing toward the presents. “Don’t open anything,” says Brady at the same time as William. They exchange a sweet kiss when Brady’s close enough, sliding their arms around each other’s waists. William noses along Brady’s jaw and presses a kiss to the corner. He tastes like sleep and the slightest tang of salt from the breeze.
“You could have told me what you were doing,” says Brady in a low murmur, slipping his fingers under the hem of William’s tank. “I’d have helped.”
William wiggles his hand into Brady’s back pocket (and maybe cops a feel). “Then it wouldn’t have been a surprise.” He grins. “And I wouldn’t have gotten a chance to shake all the boxes with my name on them.”
Brady’s elbow to his ribs doesn’t actually hurt, but William gasps anyway. Brady’s laughing as he shoves him away. William nearly falls over, feet uncoordinated in the sand. “You did not,” says Brady, instinctively reaching to steady William. “You spent the last week telling the kids they couldn’t shake them.”
He didn’t shake them, but he smiles and shrugs anyway, because he knows the possibility of it will linger in Brady’s mind. He loves when Brady tries to pry the truth out of him. He has… pleasurable methods. William will leave it at that.
They spread beach towels in a half circle around the umbrella and take their seats, the kids sitting closest to the mound of presents. Brady and William distribute the excessive amount. (There’s a chance they might be spoiling their kids, but no more than they spoil each other.) Trisha and Ginger have a decent-sized pile from both of them as well. No one’s been skimped on.
All the adults take pictures of Anastasia and Cole unwrapping their gifts. They’ve got a routine when it comes to these things. The kids unwrap, show their new belongings off, posing obnoxiously (and cutely) while they do. Once they’ve reduced their pile to nothing, the grown-ups get to take their turn.
They decline to be photographed.
William and Brady trade off on trash responsibility, chasing down stray wrapping paper before it can make a break and stuffing it into the trash bag brought just for this. With the strong beach breeze, it’s a constant job. Both kids are too excited—and too willy-nilly—when it comes to how they rip through the paper to ensure that little pieces don’t end up elsewhere. There’s a chance William hadn’t thought this whole thing completely through, but it’s fine. They’ve got it under control.
Cole’s scream when he unwraps the largest box of the pile and opens it to find a bicycle has them all wincing, even as they smile at his sheer delight.
Brady looks at William smugly, silently saying, “I told you it’d be better if we wrapped it.”
William sticks his tongue out.
When the kids are done, it’s their turn to pretend to be that young again. They start with the gifts from Anastasia and Cole, making sure to ooh and ahh and appropriately express their delight. Both of them are currently in an arts and craft phase, and it shows in the homemade shell picture frames and magnets—of all things. They’re kitschy and cute, and Brady’s eyes predictably water when he gets a look at the pictures the kids have chosen to put in the frames.
Apparently the two of them had raided the photo albums and come away with images that span the years of Brady and William’s life together. There’s one of them kissing on their honeymoon and another of them holding baby Anastasia while trying to mop spit-up off of the other’s shirt. There’s Cole on the boogie board they’d gotten him for his fifth birthday, crying because he scraped his knee, and William trying to calm him down.
William’s throat gets tight.
The kids squeal as William and Brady mob them for hugs and kisses, but they look over the moon that their parents love the gifts so much.
Trisha and Ginger got them combined gifts of tacky board shorts (their gag gift) and a couples’ spa package for a weekend of their choosing at one of the fancy resorts nearby. “We’ll watch the kids, and you two can go get pampered.”
Brady and William exchange a look. They’d gotten the women the same thing.
Their gifts to themselves are simple and sweet, little things they knew the other had been wanting for a while or would like. Brady collects kitchenware, loving to cook, so William had bought him this new “all the rage” bread maker and a home ice cream machine as well. He figures the kids will get a kick out of that. Brady got William books, a whole bunch of them, some with shiny new covers and others with lovingly worn-down spines.
With the presents done, they take to the ocean to play around. Everyone had wisely come in their bathing suits, and it’s just a matter of neatly stacking everything and tying off the trash bag before they can run into the chilly water with abandon. Both Anastasia and Cole know how to swim like fish, but that doesn’t stop William and Brady from hovering over them, never taking their eye off them and yelling when they go a little too far. William thinks their kids will be twenty and they’ll still probably try to tell them, “Nope, that’s too far. Come back in now.”
It isn’t till they’re exhausted, limbs heavy and eyelids dragging from being in the sun for so long, that they retreat from the water.
“I’m thinking naps before we get around to making food,” says Brady, the arch of his nose and his cheeks a bright red. Even after all this time living under bright sunshine, Brady still burns rather than tans. He has more freckles than ever, though.
William kisses a salty, burning cheek. “Aloe and then you can nap. You’re not going to be able to move tomorrow.”
Brady groans. “I can’t believe I didn’t think to bring sunscreen.”
William chokes back his laugh.
The kids run ahead, still full of energy that the adults just don’t have. That and they’re not the ones lugging the presents back to the car. Trisha and Ginger split to walk the kids back to the house, while William and Brady go the vehicle route. It’s not a long walk, but if you’re carrying two tons worth of presents it feels like twenty miles.
No, thanks.
The first thing they do when they’re in the car is crank the AC up and aim it right at their faces. They sigh simultaneously, and Brady twines his fingers around William’s, resting their hands on his thigh.
“I used to think Christmas couldn’t be Christmas without snow and nearly freezing to death,” murmurs Brady, his head tilted against the headrest and his eyes closed. A small smile quirks the corners of his lovely mouth.
Because he can, William leans in and kisses the corner closest to him, flicks his tongue out to teasingly prod it. “Do you miss the winter wonderland scene?” If Brady does, next year he’ll take the whole family to Alaska if that’s what Brady wants.
Brady shakes his head. “Nah.” He shifts a little, turning to face William, nipping at the tip of his nose. “I have the one thing I missed. I’m good.”
William goes all soft inside, because he’s a big sap. Even after twenty years of being together, it doesn’t get old. “Isn’t that supposed to be my line?” he teases.
Brady strokes a finger over his jawline. He smirks. “It’s our line.”
In an athletic move that is no doubt going to leave them sore later, Brady ends up in William’s lap with his hands braced on the seat behind William. From this angle he’s looking down at William, his entire face animated and broadcasting wicked ideas.
“Merry Christmas,” he says, ducking in for a long, slow kiss. They glide their tongues together, rocking their bodies to match the movement of their tongues.
The blaring of the car horn startles them.
Brady’s forehead knocks into William’s nose, and they’re both groaning and laughing, trying to get Brady’s big butt off the steering wheel. William’s eyes are watering, his nose throbbing in time to his heartbeat, but he thinks about the wonderful man in his lap and everything they’ve been through. The years they’ve had and the life they’ve built. How they have more time and so much more they can do together.
It’s funny, he thinks, how a time of year that had once been the constant reminder of the worst thing ever has now become the anniversary of the best thing ever.
Still giggling, he tips his head and swallows Brady’s laughter with his mouth. “Merry Christmas.”