“It’s okay,” I said again. “I told you I appreciated you even trying.”
His jaw flexed. “It’s not okay.”
“When I have to do overseas stuff, I’ll just go without you,” I said. “I’ll come back as fast as I can.”
The lines in his forehead got deeper. This suggestion obviously wasn’t helping.
I put a hand on his arm. “Or, we can do local stuff so I can stay with you. We can do a weekend series on the best bed-and-breakfasts in Minnesota. And then when you get time off we’ll do cruise ships and road trips like this one. Rent an RV and explore all the cool campgrounds. We’ll figure it out. It’s not a big deal.”
But I could see in the set of his body that it was.
He was disappointed in himself. This wasn’t a man who was used to failing. At anything.
“I kinda thought it might happen,” I admitted. “I have a backup Christmas gift for you and everything.”
He glanced at me with a weak smile.
I think on top of this, he was stressed out about this weekend, about seeing his dad again. I fully planned on greasing this entire situation. I was going to make sure he had a good time no matter what. I’d pull him into broom closets for blow jobs if the circumstances required it.
I sorta hoped the circumstances required it.
We drove another two minutes and then turned down a tree-lined drive to a beautiful Victorian house. Adrian pulled up behind an old beater truck and put the car in park. He didn’t move to get out.
“Is this it?” I asked, looking over at him.
He sat there, staring at the house. “I haven’t been here in almost two decades,” he said quietly.
“How’s it look?”
“Good. It looks really good. He’s been taking care of it.”
I peered back out through the windshield. It looked like the kind of house that smelled like cinnamon inside. There were white Christmas lights along the eaves and a huge wreath on the front door. It reminded me of the inside of a Christmas snow globe or something.
“Why haven’t you been here?” I asked.
He put an elbow on the ledge of his window and rubbed his forehead. “I used to come every summer. We all did. All the cousins. It was my grandparents’ house. I stopped coming when my dad left.”
“Why?”
He shook his head a little, still staring out the windshield. “I didn’t want to run the risk of seeing him. And Mom fell apart. I couldn’t leave her.”
I scoffed. “Yup. I know what that’s like. Being the only one who has their shit together,” I mumbled. I looked back at the front door. It was flanked by small lighted pine trees. Very tasteful. All the windows were lit and warm. “It’s a cool house.”
“It’s been in the family for as long as I can remember. My uncle bought it when my granddad died. Then he retired to Florida. Sold it to Richard earlier this year.” He paused a few heartbeats. “I’m glad Mom gets to live in it. She likes houses like this. She always loved coming here.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Is that a snowplow on the front of his truck?” I asked, squinting at the old Ford parked in front of us between the house and the garage.
“If you live here, you have to help out. They don’t have much infrastructure. Mom said he’s on the town council too.”
“Wow. And here you are with only one job and no political aspirations. I’m sorta disappointed in you.”
He smiled, but he didn’t make any move to get out of the car. We sat there, silently looking at the house.
“I used to tell everyone I hated coming here,” he said quietly.
“Why?”
“Because I couldn’t. It was easier to pretend that I didn’t want to. I didn’t want Mom to feel bad that I was staying to take care of her. And I didn’t want to even admit to myself how much I missed this house.” He paused. “I guess if the decision not to come was mine, it made it something I was in control of. Even if I wasn’t.”
I sighed. “Coping mechanisms. Isn’t it amazing the things we do to be okay? At least you get to come home again,” I said. “And hey, maybe your old room won’t be filled with rusting bikes.”
He laughed.
Grace made a noise from the back seat and it was our cue to get out. She’d need a diaper change and a bottle soon.
Adrian took a deep breath and pushed open his car door. The second he did, the door to the house opened too and a man jogged down the steps to greet us. It had to be Adrian’s dad because he looked exactly like him. And any worries I had about weirdness between these two was instantly put to rest. His dad went right in for a hug.
It took Adrian a second. Like old reflexes were still at work. But then he hugged his dad back and within a few moments, both men were crying.
Adrian’s mom stood at the top of the steps watching this with her hands over her mouth. She was crying too.
“I missed you, son,” Richard rasped.
Adrian paused. “I missed you too.”
* * *
When we made it inside the house, Adrian set Grace down in her car seat and hugged his mom. When he let go, he turned to me, beaming. “Mom, this is Vanessa. Vanessa this is my mom, Robin, and my dad, Richard.”
Richard was hanging up our jackets on a coat hook as an old woman in a pink housecoat shuffled around the corner.
“Adrian! You’re home!” she said, lifting her thin arms to hug him.
Adrian kissed her cheek and then turned her to me by the shoulders. “Grandma, this is my girlfriend, Vanessa. Vanessa, this is Audrey.”
The small woman lit up like a Christmas tree. “Adrian! A girlfriend?” She put her hands over her mouth and looked up at her tall grandson, her green eyes almost childlike. “Are you going to marry her?” The question was so innocent and sweet.
“I promised I’d marry her on her thirtieth birthday.” Adrian winked.
She inched forward and hugged me. “Oh, bless your heart.” She let me go and patted my cheek. “She’s a beauty, a real catch. Robin, he’s getting married! It’s a Christmas miracle!”
She padded back into the living room and I had to cover my laugh with a hand.
Adrian leaned over and whispered, “I think she likes you.”
“Are we just going to ignore the Christmas miracle thing or…?”
He laughed. “I’ve never introduced her to anyone before.”
Adrian was looking around the entryway. “The place looks amazing. Wood floors!” he laughed, looking down.
Robin smiled. “They were under the shag.” She shuddered.
The house looked like a photo in Good Housekeeping. And yes, it did smell like cinnamon.
There was a gorgeous dark wood staircase off the entryway with a fresh pine garland wrapped around it. The living room had a huge fireplace with a blazing fire in it and a glittering Christmas tree decorated like one in the lobby of a five-star hotel.
Every inch of the house looked meticulously restored.
“I can’t tell you how happy I am that you’re here,” Robin said.
Richard smiled. “We picked up a special bottle of wine just for you. Boone’s Farm.”
Adrian blanched and Richard laughed. “I’m kidding.”