“You’ve known me for over twenty years, Press. Do I kid?”
“N-no, but…”
“No buts. He’s so into this Christmas shit. All the celebrations and the corny music…it’s like he can’t get enough. I swear, if I let him, he’d make me watch that fucking burning log in the fireplace for hours.”
“Oh, my God.”
I heard Press cackling with laughter and couldn’t help smiling at the memories.
“Remember the time we snuck eggnog up to your room and got drunk watching it?”
“Oh, God. My mother knew right away.” He wheezed with laughter. “I had my head in your lap, and you were singing ‘Holly Jolly Christmas’ over and over, wearing a tinsel crown.”
“I miss those days sometimes.”
I missed his parents. Growing up, I used them as my escape, and they’d been my only true family.
“Yeah. I do too. But they’d be so happy for us, finding people we love who love us back.”
“Is it crazy for me to still have doubts? Like, I wonder what the hell he’s doing with someone like me, who doesn’t have a fucking clue about relationships. I feel like I have nothing to give him in return for everything he gives me.”
“How about just being you? That’s the most special thing of all. Torre wants you. He loves you so much.”
“How do you know?”
“I might be a fool for love, but I’m not blind. Trust me on this one. He’s as crazy about you as you are for him. Maybe crazier, if that’s even possible, knowing that demented mind of yours.”
“Speaking of which…” I gnawed my lip. From the first, Torre had kept me off balance, unsure of my next step. And even though I now knew where I was going and who I wanted by my side, saying it made it real. Permanent.
Forever.
“What’s going on? This is more than a simple ‘hello, how are you’ call.”
“Uh, I want to buy Torre a Christmas present.”
“Okay, and you want my input?”
I could only imagine what he, with his sappy romantic heart, would suggest. Then again, considering what I was planning, I should shut up.
“No, I want something I saw in your store last week.”
“Oh, sure. What?”
“Uh, that fede ring. The gold one you had in the showcase.”
Silence.
I shook my phone. “Hello? Are you there?”
“A ring?” His strained voice didn’t fool me, but I wouldn’t—I couldn’t get into it with him.
“Yes. It’s the one with the hands clasped—”
“You do realize I know my merchandise. Intimately. I bought that ring from the estate of an Italian opera singer. He’d given it to his lover on their fiftieth year together, and when marriage equality passed in New York, he used it in that ceremony. His husband died two years ago, and he died a year after.” He sniffled and I braced myself. “I knew it was special when I purchased it, but I never suspected—”
“Can we cut this stroll down memory lane? Is it possible for you to get the ring to me tonight?”
“Tonight?” Presley squawked.
“Ow.” I rubbed my ear. “I think you broke the sound barrier. Good thing you and Nate have a private house if those are the noises you make.”
“I see being in a relationship hasn’t changed you completely.”
“And you love me for it.”
“Yes, I do,” he said softly. “I have a messenger service I use for people who need immediate deliveries. I’ll send it in about an hour.”
“Thanks. I knew I could count on you.”
“Always and forever.”
Not only had I hit the jackpot with Torre as my lover, but Presley was the brother of my heart.
“Merry Christmas, Press.”
“Merry Christmas, Frisco, I love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I rested my head on my knees for I don’t know how long before I heard a knock on the door.
“Frisco? Babe? You okay?”
I ran the heels of my hands over my eyes and blinked several times. “Yeah. Be down in a sec. Did you bake all the cookies without me?”
Searching my face for any telltale signs and finding none, I opened the bathroom door with a smile.
“What’s wrong?” Torre asked sharply, his eyes raking over me.
I’d forgotten how perceptive Torre was.
“Nothing. Can’t a man go to the bathroom without an inquiry?” I kissed him. “Tell me you didn’t leave that child alone in my kitchen,” I murmured in his ear.
He chuckled and held me around the waist. “No. She wanted to wait for Uncle Frisco to make the cookies, so I gave her crayons and paper and she’s drawing. Mike texted, and they’ll be here within the hour.”
“We’d better finish those cookies, then.”
Torre’s face was a comical mixture of doubt and surprise. “Are you sure? She’ll probably be okay just drawing.”
But I wouldn’t.
“And waste all that cookie dough?” With his hand in mine, we walked down the stairs. “Polpetto, let’s bake your cookies. Your parents are on the way here to take you home.”
She scrambled to her feet. “I wish I could stay here. I had fun with you today.”
I turned a smug smile on Torre. “Even children love me.”
“Go make some cookies.” Torre pushed me. “I have stuff to do for the blog.”
“Not a problem.” I took Tina’s hand and put her in the same chair she sat in for the pasta-making. “I have everything under control.”
As long as Presley delivered what I needed.
Chapter Four
I’d never lied to Frisco.
Until now.
But I had my reasons, and I knew he’d forgive me.
Frisco and Tina spent the rest of the afternoon baking—not only Christmas cookies, but he made a tiramisu, my favorite dessert. I anticipated eating it after dinner.
Mike and Val both came upstairs with Mikey Junior, who was diagnosed with an allergy. The baby was a pudgy ball of smiles and reached out his arms for me to give him a hug. Mike held him like a little football, and I had to smile.
“So we’ll see you in two days at Mom’s, right?”
I hoped Mike and Val knew their parts in my plan and would be convincing. A master himself, Frisco could smell bullshit a mile away, and it wouldn’t be easy to pull something over on him.
“Yeah. But I need another favor from you.”
Frisco’s brows drew up sharply. “Uhhhh, okay, we watched the girl, but I draw the line at a baby.” He gazed at the gurgling MJ with trepidation. “I don’t do diapers. I am not into that scene. At all.”
I almost choked and kicked his foot. “Stop that. What’s the favor?”
“I’ve got someone who booked the restaurant for a special event. And I was wondering…” Mike ducked his head. “I know it’s really short notice, but could you do the serving? I need someone I can trust. It’s for a close friend, and I don’t want it to get screwed up.”
“When is it?”