Chapter Twenty-Nine
Freddie
If Freddie had believed in Father Christmas, he might’ve asked for Taine to appear like an angel from Heaven at the farm. He didn’t, so he hadn’t. Yet the man had shown up out of the blue with a basket of Scottish treats.
There appeared to be several types of cheese in the basket. The Inverloch, in particular, excited the food-obsessed part of him. He batted away his aunt’s hands when she tried to grab it off him.
“My cheese.”
“Share the wealth, Freddie.” She darted in to grab one of the rounds of cheddar. “Are you sure it’s wise to leave him alone in the den with both of your fathers?”
“I’m making tea,” Freddie muttered obstinately.
“Might help if you turn the kettle on, love.” She patted his shoulder and waltzed out with her prize in hand. “I’ll ensure no one actually ends up bloody and beaten.”
He decided not to begrudge her the cheese if she managed to keep the three men in the living room from ending up brawling by the fire. “Good luck.”
“Make the tea.”
“I’m making the sodding tea.” Freddie grabbed the kettle to fill it. “Make the tea.”
While staring at the bright red kettle, Freddie tried to mentally process the surprisingly immediate answer to his Christmas wish. The first month after the debacle at his flat with no contact from Taine had left him rather depressed. By the first of December, his Welsh common sense kicked him in the arse.
He had forced himself to ask a serious set of questions designed to add a dash of realism to the situation. Did he miss Taine? Of course. Had they been forging a deeper connection? Certainly. Were they in love? Obviously not, we only met in July. Would it be the end of the world if he never met the man again? Sad, but not quite apocalyptic.
With the injection of clear thinking, Freddie managed to pick himself up out of the haze of moping around. Gen, Graham, and BC had gotten together to take him out dancing a few times. They’d been joined by other friends of the rugby player as well.
He still didn’t like Scottie, who seemed to enjoy his front of arsehole a bit too much.
All in all, December proved far better than November. Standing up to his fathers had improved their relationship overall. The punk twits who harassed him had been forced out of the neighbourhood. Freddie now had friends—many of them.
What Freddie had missed most about Taine was the potential. The hints at the depths a relationship between them might have reached. He hoped this sudden Christmas appearance boded well for them.
With a tray loaded with tea, shortbread, and some of his aunt’s bara brith, he headed towards the suspiciously quiet den. The separation between the four and the awkward silence reminded him of the few times when he was young that the Protestant and Jewish sides of their family came together during the holidays. He hesitated by the coffee table, trying to decide how best to resolve the situation.
Setting the tray down on the table, Freddie folded his arms across his chest and tilted his head to the side while narrowing his eyes on his fathers. Auntie Anna appeared to be trying to engage Taine in conversation. He didn’t need three guesses to figure out why the attempts kept failing.
I will not spend my favourite day of the year with two sulking fathers, an uneasy potential boyfriend, and a grinning aunt.
I won’t.
Freddie grabbed two pieces of shortbread before twisting around to fall lightly into Taine’s lap. He handed one of the biscuits to the man with an innocent grin. “Happy Christmas. Chag Sameach!”
“Pardon?”
“Happy Holiday in Hebrew.” Freddie munched on his shortbread. It fell apart in his mouth, beautifully buttery with a hint of sugar and lemon. “Did your priest make this?”
“Aye.” Taine raised an eyebrow sardonically at him. He could clearly see what Freddie intended to do with his somewhat provocative actions. “Father Wilson believes one should never show up as a guest without bringing gifts.”
“Are you Catholic?”
Freddie’s eyes snapped towards his tad. “Hasn’t our family endured enough religious conflict to not drag someone else into it?”
“Why don’t we all have tea?” Anna interjected into the conversation, deflecting whatever response his fathers would’ve thrown out. “Tea, bread, and biscuits. Isn’t there Doctor Who to watch?”
“I’m more interested in why our Christmas has been invaded.” His dad held his hand up to stop both Freddie and his aunt from starting in on him. “He obviously upset you, whether we created the initial drama or not. Now he’s waltzing in with cheese and biscuits. It’s within our right to ask what he’s about.”
“No, it’s not.” Freddie brushed his crumb-covered fingers on his trousers. “It’s mine.”
“He—”
“Adam,” Anna snapped at her brother. “Eat some bara brith.”
Freddie realised that, despite their promises, his fathers still struggled with the idea of their son being an adult. “BC invited me over to the inn for a holiday party. I think I’ll take him up on the offer. Taine? Want to join me?”
Without saying another word, Freddie stood to head for the door. On Christmas, his favourite day of the year, he absolutely refused to engage in an argument with his family. Perhaps, if left to their own devices, they might manage to realise how serious the situation had become.
His life couldn’t revolve around helping his fathers stay in their comfort zone. Freddie wondered if living at home into his twenties hadn’t exacerbated the situation. He should’ve moved out years earlier than he had.
Grabbing the basket from the kitchen and his coat from the door, Freddie stormed out of the house. He paused in the yard, trying to decide how to get the Mini out from where the other vehicles had blocked it in. Taine stepped up beside him and dropped a heavy arm across his shoulders.
“How about we go in mine?” Taine would likely fit better in his Bentley than in the much smaller Mini. Freddie gave a mental snicker at the six-foot-five man squashing into his car. “You sure you want to go?”
Freddie glanced over his shoulder to peer into one of the windows. He could see his aunt standing over his fathers with her hands on her hips. Auntie Anna tended to give rather long and loud lectures. “Definitely.”
Riding in the luxurious Bentley Falcon distracted him for the first bit of the thirty-minute drive to the inn. Freddie grabbed his mobile to text Graham. He didn’t want their arrival to be a surprise.
“You realise you’ve given them a head start to think of jokes to torture us with when we arrive.” Taine reached down to turn up the heat. “Are you warm enough?”
“Toasty.” Freddie had plenty of room to stretch out his legs. He resisted the urge to lower the window to stick his hand out to catch some of the falling snow. “I love this time of year, even if it’s too cold to want to do anything outside.”
“Thought you hated being cold?”
“I do.” Freddie waved his hand absently to his knit hat, scarf, gloves, and multiple layers. “If I added any more clothes, I’d be waddling around instead of walking.”
Taine moved his hand from the gear lever to Freddie’s knee. He gave it a squeeze. “I’ve missed you.”
He canted his head to the side. “Have you? You could’ve easily solved the problem by picking up your phone.”
“Touché.” Taine left his hand on Freddie’s knee. “Forgive me for being an idiotic twat? Scottie’s words, not mine.”
Freddie covered the hand on his leg. “Don’t be a twat again.”
“I’ll do my best.”