Chapter Six

TO THE SURPRISE of absolutely no one, Justin bailed on the farmers market outing with Trish and Dave. Even if people didn’t shop for power tools and gardening equipment, it didn’t mean they didn’t need small things like extension cords and last-minute replacements for burned-out light bulbs for their Christmas ornaments, and while none of these would make a dent in the business’s deficit, every dollar counted.

And yet, despite having to miss out on the excursion, he was strangely buoyant thinking about Christmas Eve. He told himself it was silly to be waiting for it with such childish anticipation simply because Elliot was going to be there, but it was the only thing that could make him forget the humiliating mortification of last night’s events.

Even a few caustic text messages from Mark couldn’t spoil his uncharacteristic good mood. He was long past relying on the benevolence of either God or the universe, but he couldn’t help thinking that maybe yesterday’s fiasco had worked out for the best. Falling into bed together because they were both overwhelmed with heartache probably wasn’t the healthiest way to deal with repressed feelings—and after their chat that morning, Justin had a solid suspicion those feelings weren’t entirely one-sided.

He ignored the messages, focusing instead on offering advice to his customers and stocking the checkout counter display of car chargers and batteries during the lulls in traffic. For someone who’d had zero knowledge and interest in hardware and in the intricacies of managing a small business, he thought he was doing a pretty decent job of it.

Of course, “decent” didn’t cut it when it came to actually making a profit.

Still, he stoically refused to think about all the red lines in his digital ledgers. For once, the prospect of spending Christmas with his family didn’t fill him with a vague sense of shame for being a failure. This time, he was actually looking forward to it all—the food, the jokes, the stories he’d heard a dozen times before, even Aunt Marnie’s jabs. This Christmas was going to be special because he’d have someone to share all that with.

Snow had begun to fall again by the time he locked up the store and hopped over to Vintage Brew to wish Elena happy holidays and exchange their token presents of homemade jam and scented candles.

“So that was the elusive Elliot,” Elena said as she wiped the counter. “Are you sure it’s the same one? He’s way too fancy for this town.”

“That’s the one,” Justin said. “Don’t worry, he won’t be staying.”

“Too bad. You could’ve done worse. In fact, you did.”

Justin clutched at his chest dramatically. “Thanks for rubbing salt all over my wounded heart.”

“Something tells me your heart will be just fine,” Elena said and winked at him.

Justin wished he could share her certainty. His heart was fluttering in his chest like a butterfly, but there was still a big chance it was going to be smashed against the proverbial windshield.

He drove over to his parents’ house. The warm glow of the streetlamps filtering through the white haze lent the entire town a fairy-tale-like appearance, and colorful Christmas decorations adorning the front lawns and porches only added to the effect. This was one of those rare times when Justin was smitten by the simple charm of an old small town, despite dreaming about getting out of Carson ever since he’d turned fourteen. Something about the quiet, sleepy streets would always spell home.

The smells of cooking wafting out into the driveway reminded Justin he hadn’t eaten anything since the Danish that morning. He went through the familiar ritual of hellos and hugs, surrendered the bottle of Merlot he’d picked up on the way, and stepped into the living room where the rest of the family was assembled.

His gaze immediately snapped to Elliot, who was standing next to the fireplace with a glass of sparkling wine in his hand, deep in conversation with Justin’s father. Tonight, he wore a different tastefully bland sweater, which looked fine enough to actually be cashmere, and a pair of perfectly tailored black slacks.

As if sensing him watching, Elliot raised his head, and their eyes met across the room. He smiled, and it was like a bolt of electricity again, hitting Justin in the chest and running all the way down to the tips of his toes.

“You look like that heart-eyes emoji right now,” Trish whispered, leaning to his ear.

“Oh, shut up,” Justin said, the heat of a telltale blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Hey, it’s cute,” she said, mock toasting him with a glass of OJ. “Much better than that sour scowl you were sporting yesterday.”

“I was not—” Justin began, but Trish was already off to help set the dinner table.

Elliot excused himself to John and went over to Justin, on the way picking up a fresh drink from the silver tray set on the coffee table. Judging from the number of empty glasses, Aunt Marnie and Uncle Tony had thoroughly appreciated the wine selection.

“Hey,” Elliot said. The smile lingered on his lips, coloring his perpetually serious expression with delight. It was enough to banish Justin’s lingering doubts into the shadowy recesses of his mind—for the time being at least.

“Hey. I’m glad you could make it.”

“I’m glad to be here,” Elliot said with a sort of shy honesty that pierced Justin’s soul.

“Justin, dear.” Aunt Marnie approached him and kissed his cheek, no doubt leaving smears of her bright lipstick. Justin could tell it was the exact shade Elena favored, and there was no doubt as to who wore it better. “Where’s your nice gentleman caller tonight?”

Justin sighed.

“He won’t be coming, Aunt Marnie. We broke up.”

She clutched at her imaginary pearls.

“Justin, that’s awful! How could you do that to that poor young man, and right before Christmas, too?”

Elliot took advantage of Justin’s momentary stunned silence and stepped forward before he could respond.

“Mrs. Clay, did I tell you that I saw Tom Bergeron at a gala last month?” he asked.

Aunt Marnie, who was a die-hard Dancing with the Stars fan, gasped.

“My goodness! Did you really? What did he say? I bet he’s just as charming in person as he is on TV!”

Justin shot Elliot a grateful look as he was forced to regale all the minute details of his (as Justin suspected, largely fictional) interaction with Mr. Bergeron. Elliot inclined his head slightly in acknowledgment.

Thankfully, they were soon ushered into the dining room. Dave and Trish had finished setting the table, which was already piled with food, and they all took their seats, noisily discussing the arrangements. As always, Kelly and John sat at the opposite heads of the table, while Justin found himself seated next to Elliot. It all happened so fast he didn’t understand how it had transpired, but Trish winked at him conspiratorially across the table, so he assumed it wasn’t accidental.

“Let’s say grace, everybody,” Kelly instructed, her eyes lit up with undulated joy as she surveyed the gathering.

Justin wasn’t big on prayers in general; most likely, he’d used up his allotment of miracles during the long months following his father’s diagnosis. But he obediently joined hands with Uncle Tony on his left and Elliot on his right and closed his eyes.

“Heavenly Father, we thank you for all the gifts you bestow upon us during this holy season. Let all of us shed our pain and sorrow and rejoice in the embrace of our loved ones. Bless us with your light and hope eternal. Amen.”

“Amen,” Justin murmured. Elliot squeezed his hand gently as if to emphasize the significance of the words, and let go. Justin’s fingers tingled with the loss, and he flexed them instinctively before taking hold of his utensils.

As always, the food was delicious and plentiful. For a while, there was quiet, accentuated only by the clanking of glasses and the scrape of knives on plates as everyone tucked in. It was only after the main course had been served that the conversation picked up again, fueled by even more alcohol and generous helpings of beef roast, grilled vegetables, and fresh green salad with a blue cheese dressing.

Justin was only listening with one ear, tuning out Aunt Marnie and his mom’s animated discussion of their book club reading assignment. His focus was entirely on Elliot as he listened to him talk to his father about the difficulties of managing a gallery in the over-saturated LA art scene. Justin knew, despite his unwavering support of Justin’s own artistic endeavors in the past, his father couldn’t care less about any kind of art scene, but he could appreciate a savvy operations manager. It certainly sounded like Elliot knew what he was doing—at least when it came to the business side of things. He had found his element, something he both loved and was good at.

What were the chances he’d be tempted to leave all that behind for the dubious benefit of reconnecting with his childhood sweetheart?

Justin eyed the half-empty bottle of red, but he had the drive back to the apartment, as short as it was, ahead of him. Being stuck in a ditch on Christmas Eve would really put the cap on his nightmare of a week.

Justin pushed the rising melancholy down. At the moment, he was enjoying things he actually cared about—his family, good food, lighthearted conversation, and the intangible atmosphere of peace that came along with being together for the holidays. The whole reason Elliot was sitting next to him in the first place was a stark reminder that even those small things couldn’t be taken for granted, that he had to revel in life’s simple pleasures, no matter how fleeting they might be.

After coffee and cake (Black Forest with chocolate-dipped cherries, Justin’s favorite), they moved back to the living room to find all their presents piled under the brightly lit Christmas tree and stuffed in the large red socks hanging off the mantelpiece. Even Elliot got his own sock with his name written on top in a black marker since Kelly didn’t have the time to properly embroider it on such short notice. It had become a sort of family tradition to exchange gifts on Christmas Eve, while all the guests were in attendance, rather than wait till morning.

Laughter and whoops of delight filled the room as everyone unwrapped their presents—either practical and inexpensive, like a new phone case or a bottle opener, or intentionally tongue-in-cheek, like animal paw slippers and a set of tea towels decorated with flowers and rude sayings.

“That’s really lovely, but I don’t have a tub,” Justin said as he opened a box revealing a luxury bamboo bathtub caddy, complete with a wine glass holder and a place to set an e-reader.

“It’s an incentive for you to get a nicer place,” Trish said. “One that actually has a fully equipped bathroom. And a kitchen.”

“Just please don’t get me a KitchenAid,” Justin said. “I might pitch it to the customers as a cement mixer.”

Trish laughed and slapped him on the shoulder before turning her attention to Dave, who was thanking John for his new set of classic board games.

Justin reached for the next box in his designated pile and ripped the red-and-gold wrapping, revealing a set of Royal & Langnickel charcoal pencils. He stared at it for a long moment.

“Do you like it?” Elliot asked tentatively, perching on the edge of the sofa beside him.

Justin looked up to him.

“I…yes. Of course. It’s great.” Justin still had his art supplies tucked away in a drawer in his apartment, but it had been a long time since he added anything to his collection, even something so innocuously affordable. “Thank you. But I didn’t get you anything.”

He was a little ashamed to say that. Even his mother had made sure to include Elliot in the family gift-giving ritual, while it had completely skipped his mind.

“That’s okay,” Elliot said, visibly relaxing. “Next time.”

Justin was sure his answering smile must have been crooked. With Elliot poised to return to California tomorrow evening, “next time” really meant “never.”

But Elliot was here now, and Justin reminded himself again he couldn’t ask for more than that.

After the presents and a serving of hot cocoa, the party gradually died down. Justin’s dad was prone to getting tired quickly, and the rest of them, aside from Justin and Trish, had had a bit too much to drink. Tony and Marnie were the first ones to retire, and then, when Elliot bid everyone good night, Justin said he’d walk with him.

Trish smirked at him and gave him a discreet thumbs-up, but he pointedly ignored her as he shrugged into his jacket and followed Elliot out the door.

The snow that had accumulated on the sidewalks crunched under their feet as they walked down the street. It was a beautiful, crisp night, with stars shining brightly above.

“Well, this is it,” Justin said unnecessarily as they came to a halt in front of the Turner house porch.

“Yep,” Elliot said, but he seemed in no hurry to go inside. Instead, he turned to Justin, adjusting his glasses. “I had a great time tonight. Thank you.”

“You should be thanking my mom. She’s the one who made sure it was a wonderful evening.”

“She definitely did. I’ll drop by tomorrow to let her know that. But it wasn’t just the food and company that made the night special.”

Despite the biting cold, warmth crept up Justin’s cheeks.

“What was it, then?”

Instead of answering, Elliot cupped the side of his face. He paused for the briefest second, but when Justin offered no objection, he leaned in, letting his lips brush against Justin’s.

Justin made a tiny, needy sound at the back of his throat, and grabbed Elliot’s shoulders, latching on to his mouth with a hunger that took them both by surprise. Elliot pulled him closer, their bodies and tongues clashing as if battling out old hurts.

It was a messy kiss that tasted of unshed tears and desperation and vodka-soaked cherries, and, aside from the frantic urgency, nothing like their furtive teenage make-out sessions. They finally broke for air, Justin a little dizzy, and Elliot’s eyes glazed over.

Justin wanted nothing more in that moment than to pounce back on Elliot and have another taste of everything he’d been missing. Yet he already knew it’d be a mistake.

“I was the one to suggest it yesterday, but I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, releasing Elliot and taking half a step back. “I don’t want anything to happen between us simply because we feel lonely. You and I deserve better than that.”

Elliot let his hands fall and licked his lips as if savoring the taste. There was definitely a flicker of disappointment in his eyes, but he nodded.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay. I get that.”

Reluctant to let go entirely, Justin reached out and touched his hand. “Want me to come over tomorrow to help you with the packing?”

Elliot automatically glanced back at the house and its darkened front porch.

“I’d like that,” he said, turning back to Justin. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips again, effectively dispelling all of Justin’s misgivings. “See you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow.”

Justin slipped his hands into his jacket pockets and hurried to his car as the snow started up again, unable to keep the silly grin off his face for the first time in ages.