pretty tired from fishing. Think I’ll have an early night.”
Ryan nodded. “Me too.”
“Are you coming?” Maureen called out, echoing across the frozen bay from the deck of the cottage about a hundred yards away.
Glancing at each other, Ryan and Cary actually giggled. Ryan called back. “Yes!”
They started back across the ice, slip-sliding in some places where the snow had been blown thin, laughter echoing in the stillness of the winter night.
* * * *
In the end they had to sit through not only dinner, but Scrabble and Monopoly. As eager as Ryan was to be alone with Cary again, he was afraid everyone would know exactly what was on their minds if they tried to get away early. As it was he felt like everyone knew, even though no one was acting any differently.
“Go straight to jail and do not collect two hundred dollars,” Ethan recited. With a groan, he moved his top hat to the jail spot. “This freaking blows.”
As Lisa and Tony scolded Ethan for his language, Ryan glanced at Cary across the dining table and found Cary watching him. Cary quickly lowered his gaze to fiddle with his colored money. Ryan still couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He’d been so horrified when he kissed Cary at the tree farm, but Cary had wanted it.
It didn’t seem possible. Ryan had worked so hard to hide his own feelings that he’d somehow missed spotting Cary’s. He had so many questions. Was Cary gay? When did he start feeling this way? Were they going to be a couple now?
“Uncle Ryan?”
Ryan focused on Amy, who sat at the head of the table. “Uh-huh?”
“Why are you so happy? You don’t have any good properties. Not even a railroad.”
“I know. But it’s Christmas. Of course I’m happy.” He kept his gaze away from Cary. “I’m here with my favorite niece, after all.”
Amy frowned. “I’m your only niece.”
“What? Are you sure? Lisa, you don’t have any other daughters hanging around? I swear there were a couple more.”
Lisa pretended to ponder it. “Hon, what did we do with those other daughters?”
Tony stroked his chin. “Now that you mention it, I think we might have left them in Florida when we went to visit my folks in St. Pete’s that winter.”
“No you didn’t!” Amy giggled. “I’m your only daughter.”
Jack spoke up from where he lounged in his recliner by the fireplace beside the Christmas tree. “I do seem to recall some other little girls. I thought they’d been eaten by bears.”
“No!” Amy shrieked, laughing and shaking her head.
Ryan’s mom brought out a plate of shortbread from the kitchen and a tray of tea and hot chocolate. As everyone laughed and teased Amy, Ryan passed Cary his mug. Their fingers brushed together, and beneath the table, Cary pressed his foot against Ryan’s. Even through their woolen socks, Ryan swore he could feel a spark.
Finally it was time for bed. The stockings had been hung from the mantel above the fireplace for days, but Amy still insisted on making sure they were all there—along with a plate of shortbread and a glass of milk. She peered at Cary, brow furrowed, and then back at the fireplace.
“Are you sure Santa will know you’re here, Uncle Cary?” she asked. “He might get confused. We should put your name on your stocking.”
Cary smiled. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I don’t have a stocking here. I’m sure Santa will leave me my presents at home in LA.”
“Of course you have a stocking!” Amy seemed scandalized at the very thought that he wouldn’t. “See?” She pointed to each stocking. “Gran, Granddad, Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Ryan, Ethan, and you. But yours doesn’t have your name on it.”
For a moment, Cary didn’t say anything. He cleared his throat. “That’s okay. I’m sure Santa will know.” He turned to Ryan’s parents. “Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.”
Maureen waved her hand. “Nonsense. Everyone needs a stocking at Christmas! I would have sewn your name on it,
Ryan nodded. “Me too.”
“Are you coming?” Maureen called out, echoing across the frozen bay from the deck of the cottage about a hundred yards away.
Glancing at each other, Ryan and Cary actually giggled. Ryan called back. “Yes!”
They started back across the ice, slip-sliding in some places where the snow had been blown thin, laughter echoing in the stillness of the winter night.
* * * *
In the end they had to sit through not only dinner, but Scrabble and Monopoly. As eager as Ryan was to be alone with Cary again, he was afraid everyone would know exactly what was on their minds if they tried to get away early. As it was he felt like everyone knew, even though no one was acting any differently.
“Go straight to jail and do not collect two hundred dollars,” Ethan recited. With a groan, he moved his top hat to the jail spot. “This freaking blows.”
As Lisa and Tony scolded Ethan for his language, Ryan glanced at Cary across the dining table and found Cary watching him. Cary quickly lowered his gaze to fiddle with his colored money. Ryan still couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He’d been so horrified when he kissed Cary at the tree farm, but Cary had wanted it.
It didn’t seem possible. Ryan had worked so hard to hide his own feelings that he’d somehow missed spotting Cary’s. He had so many questions. Was Cary gay? When did he start feeling this way? Were they going to be a couple now?
“Uncle Ryan?”
Ryan focused on Amy, who sat at the head of the table. “Uh-huh?”
“Why are you so happy? You don’t have any good properties. Not even a railroad.”
“I know. But it’s Christmas. Of course I’m happy.” He kept his gaze away from Cary. “I’m here with my favorite niece, after all.”
Amy frowned. “I’m your only niece.”
“What? Are you sure? Lisa, you don’t have any other daughters hanging around? I swear there were a couple more.”
Lisa pretended to ponder it. “Hon, what did we do with those other daughters?”
Tony stroked his chin. “Now that you mention it, I think we might have left them in Florida when we went to visit my folks in St. Pete’s that winter.”
“No you didn’t!” Amy giggled. “I’m your only daughter.”
Jack spoke up from where he lounged in his recliner by the fireplace beside the Christmas tree. “I do seem to recall some other little girls. I thought they’d been eaten by bears.”
“No!” Amy shrieked, laughing and shaking her head.
Ryan’s mom brought out a plate of shortbread from the kitchen and a tray of tea and hot chocolate. As everyone laughed and teased Amy, Ryan passed Cary his mug. Their fingers brushed together, and beneath the table, Cary pressed his foot against Ryan’s. Even through their woolen socks, Ryan swore he could feel a spark.
Finally it was time for bed. The stockings had been hung from the mantel above the fireplace for days, but Amy still insisted on making sure they were all there—along with a plate of shortbread and a glass of milk. She peered at Cary, brow furrowed, and then back at the fireplace.
“Are you sure Santa will know you’re here, Uncle Cary?” she asked. “He might get confused. We should put your name on your stocking.”
Cary smiled. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I don’t have a stocking here. I’m sure Santa will leave me my presents at home in LA.”
“Of course you have a stocking!” Amy seemed scandalized at the very thought that he wouldn’t. “See?” She pointed to each stocking. “Gran, Granddad, Mommy, Daddy, Uncle Ryan, Ethan, and you. But yours doesn’t have your name on it.”
For a moment, Cary didn’t say anything. He cleared his throat. “That’s okay. I’m sure Santa will know.” He turned to Ryan’s parents. “Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.”
Maureen waved her hand. “Nonsense. Everyone needs a stocking at Christmas! I would have sewn your name on it,
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