Remy and Lane Complete Series Box Set

Chapter 4-2

Lane entered the warm kitchen behind Kate and closed the door to the garage behind him. The room was dark, lit only by the light over the stove, and despite the hour, it was obvious no one had made dinner. Remy stood at the island in the center of the room, flipping through a catalog. Kate brushed past him as she headed for the fridge. “Where’s Brae? Lane, can I get you something to drink?”

“No, I’m good,” Lane said. They still had quite a trip ahead, and he didn’t want to have to pull over to pee before they reached the restaurant where Remy wanted to have dinner. Speaking of… “Have you guys eaten yet?”

“Mike and I are going out,” Kate explained. “Our holiday starts a little early, since you two are here for Braden. Jer, where is he?”

Remy glanced up from the catalog and gave his ex-wife a smile. “Upstairs getting his things together. I told him to pack his hand-held games because there’s no TV at the cabin.”

“He’ll live without TV for two weeks, jeez,” she muttered. “Boys and their toys. Drink?”

Remy shook his head. “We’re not stopping until Roanoke. I don’t want to hold it for three hours.”

Kate shrugged and turned on the kitchen light. “What, did you go to night school? Would it hurt you to turn on the overhead?”

“I’m just waiting for Braden,” Remy argued.

Lane stepped up beside his lover and nudged Remy’s hip with his own. “All right, you two, quit your bitching,” he joked. “‘Tis the season, and all that.”

“Braden!” Kate hollered up a set of wooden steps leading off the kitchen upstairs. “Your father’s waiting!”

Lane heard a faint, “I’m coming!” and something above him thudded hard on the ceiling.

“Pick that drawer up before you come down!” Kate added. With a grin to Lane, she explained, “He always pulls the top drawer of his dresser out too far and it falls on the ground. Without fail. Next dresser I buy will have some way to lock the drawers into place. Oh! Have you met Mike?”

When Lane shook his head, she disappeared down a side hall, calling, “Mike, honey? Come say hi.”

Taking advantage of the few moments they had alone, Lane leaned against Remy and rested his chin on his lover’s shoulder. “Hey,” he murmured.

Remy glanced over at him and smiled. “Hey yourself. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to make like a tree and leave.”

“Hey, you married her,” Lane reminded him. Pulling his hands from the warmth of his pockets, he eased them around Remy’s waist, then hugged his lover close. “The back of the Jeep’s as full as Santa’s sleigh. She even gave us wrapping paper. We just need to pick up some tape when we get groceries, and you and I will have a late date in the next few days playing elves.”

“I’d like to see you in elf tights,” Remy teased. “A cute little green hat with a bell on it, and maybe a bow strategically placed so I can unwrap you on Christmas Eve…”

“Christmas Day,” Lane corrected. He kissed the tip of Remy’s nose, then one cheek, then the other. “All the good presents have to wait until Christmas Day to be opened. Me included.”

Remy’s arms came up around Lane’s shoulders, holding him close. Lane’s next kiss found Remy’s mouth—a gentle brush at first, nothing much, but a second kiss parted Remy’s lips slightly, and a third caught Remy’s bottom lip between Lane’s teeth. With a breathy nibble, he licked out his tongue and rimmed Remy’s lower lip before delving inside. Remy’s hands clenched in Lane’s jacket, pulling his lover nearer, and Lane’s hands slipped up under Remy’s coat to smooth over the small of his back. It was a hungry kiss, all the more delicious because, at any moment, someone might walk in on them.

Then the stolen moment passed. As Lane pulled back, he saw movement behind Remy and glanced at the staircase leading off the kitchen. Three steps from the bottom, a little boy stood in dark jeans and a gray sweatshirt, a duffle bag in one hand and a pillow under the other arm. The boy’s mouth was open in a perfectly surprised O. With wide eyes, he stared openly at Lane.

Suddenly uncomfortable, Lane extracted himself from Remy’s embrace. “Is this Braden?” he asked.

Remy turned toward his son. “Hey kiddo. Come say hi to Lane.”

The mouth was shut now, the eyes narrowed. The surprise so plainly written on his features a moment before was gone, replaced with distrust. Braden threw down his duffle bag and pillow, then sat on the step with a plop. “I’m not going,” he announced.

Uh-oh.

Lane didn’t have much experience with children—his sister’s new baby was the first he’d ever held. Over Thanksgiving, his family had cooed and ahhed over the newborn, but Lane hadn’t had to actually talk to her. Most of the time he had been at his parents’ home, the baby was asleep, or eating, or crying. Or getting her diaper changed, which Lane refused to do. He had no other nieces or nephews, no children of his own, and no real reason to interact with any.

Fortunately, Remy seemed used to his son’s mercurial temper. Crossing the kitchen, he picked up the duffle bag and pillow with one hand. “Well, you can’t stay here,” he said. “Is this all you’re packing? You’ll be gone for two weeks.”

“I’m not going,” Braden said again.

At that moment, Kate entered the kitchen with a man Lane recognized as Mike. He’d never met the guy before, but he knew Mike instantly from Remy’s unflattering descriptions. Slightly overweight, balding, wearing glasses and a hideous holiday sweater, Mike looked unassuming and quiet. A perfect foil for a firecracker like Kate. Maybe opposites did attract; if that were the case, Kate’s second romance would definitely outlast her brief stint with Remy.

Seeing father and son facing off, Kate put her hands on her hips and demanded to know, “What’s going on here?”

Lane took a step back, prudently staying out of it.

With a sigh, Remy started, “He says he isn’t going—”

“Like hell he isn’t.” Leaning over her son, Kate lowered her voice to speak to him, but Lane heard the undercurrent of anger in her words. “Braden, we talked about this. Mike and I are going out of town. Your father—”

“I don’t want to go!” Braden yelled.

Lane winced, Remy too, but Kate didn’t even flinch. “Listen to me, young man! This isn’t about what you want, do you hear me? You’re going to spend Christmas with your father, and that’s the last time I’m telling you.”

When she stood, Lane saw an ignoble pout on Braden’s face. He looked so much like Remy, a study in miniature, that seeing him unhappy and on the verge of tears almost broke Lane’s heart. If they hadn’t paid for the cabin in advance—and if canceling their trip wouldn’t have broken Remy’s heart—Lane might have suggested they stay home with the boy, instead.

Kate took the duffle bag from Remy and opened it. After a quick look inside, she started up the stairs, snagging Braden under the arm as she went so he would follow. “I told you to pack the stuff I put out for you, didn’t I?” Her voice grew fainter as they disappeared upstairs. “Come on, mister. I’m not going to pack for you, but I’m going to show you what I want you to bring.”

“But Mo-om,” Braden argued.

At the top of the stairs, Kate stopped and pulled Braden to her. “Listen, Santa will find you at the cabin, okay? I told you that already. I called him myself. Do you know how embarrassed your father is right this moment? You’re making a scene in front of his friend. You’re acting like a baby. I can call Santa up and tell him to cancel your gifts if that’s what you want me to do. Do you?”

The three men in the kitchen exchanged looks, and Lane had to bite his cheek to keep from snickering. Remy wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, but not before Lane caught sight of the smile there. Even Mike was grinning; he took off his glasses and wiped them on his sweater, ducking his head as he did, but Lane saw the smirk nonetheless.

Braden said nothing. Lane pictured him pouting on the top step, angry but defeated, knowing he was no match for his mother in an argument. After a long, awkward silence, Lane stepped forward, hand outstretched to Mike. “Hi. I’m Lane.”

“Mike,” came the relieved reply. His handshake was firmer than Lane would have thought, raising him a little in Lane’s estimation. “Nice to meet you finally. Kate’s told me a lot about you.”

He shook Remy’s hand, too, then offered to get them a drink.

“No, we’re good,” Remy said. “We rented a place out in the mountains, so we have quite a drive ahead. It’s going to be a fun one.” He glanced up at the ceiling, referencing Braden’s earlier outburst.

Mike laughed. “You should’ve seen the way he treated me,” he admitted. “Ignored me like I wasn’t even in the room. Even a direct question wouldn’t get him to speak to me. Finally warmed up a little, though. Then I bought tickets to a couples’ cruise and he clammed up all over again.”

“He probably feels left out,” Lane suggested. He didn’t want to add that it was probably his own fault Braden was being so confrontational. No one had told the boy about his father’s sexuality, or that they would be sharing their holiday with a “special friend” of Remy’s. And then Braden walked down the stairs and saw the two men kissing! Lane could only imagine what was going through the little boy’s head at the moment. Instead of addressing the situation or answering any questions he might have had, the adults in the room had acted as if he were the one in the wrong, throwing a tantrum over something he probably didn’t even understand.

But Lane didn’t want to mention it to Remy with Mike in the room. And when would he get a chance to say anything at all, if Braden was going to be with them from now through New Year’s?

It was a bad way to start things off with his lover’s son, Lane knew.

* * * *

When Kate and Braden came downstairs, she had the duffle bag over one shoulder—obviously filled with more things than before—and, in one hand, he dragged a school backpack stuffed to the seams. His pillow was clutched tight in the other.

“All right, we’re ready,” Kate said with a sigh as she handed her bag to Remy. “You boys have a merry Christmas now, okay?”

Lane wondered just how festive the holiday would seem to Braden cooped up in a cabin without any trimmings. Softly, he reminded Remy, “We don’t have a tree.”

“We’re staying in the woods,” Remy said. “There will be trees all around us. We’ll cut one down—”

“Have you done that before?” Lane asked, skeptic. Because he had never chopped down a tree, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to give it a try.

Remy frowned at him, then at Kate. “It can’t be hard, right?”

“There’s a few boxes of stuff we didn’t use out in the garage,” Kate said. “Garland and lights mostly, some ornaments. A couple old stockings. If you want to take them?”

“Sure.” Remy hefted Braden’s duffle bag over his shoulder and tousled his son’s hair. “You about ready, sport?”

Through his pout, Braden muttered, “I already said I don’t want to go.”

“Too bad, you’re going,” Kate told him. When she bent over to give him a kiss, he squirmed away. Undaunted, she grabbed his face with one hand, squeezed his cheeks, and kissed him on the forehead anyway. “You be good, you hear? Remember what we talked about upstairs.”

Lane wondered what that discussion had been like. He still wondered if Braden’s sour mood wasn’t his fault. Seeing Lane kissing his father must have been quite a shock, especially if no one had warned him ahead of time.

Forcing a smile, Lane held out a hand towards Braden. “Hi there. I’m Lane. Your daddy’s friend.”

The look of loathing Braden gave him was daunting. After a long moment, Lane folded his hand into a fist and shoved it away in his coat pocket out of sight. Remy chastised his son. “Braden!”

“No, it’s okay,” Lane assured him, though he would be lying if he said the rebuff didn’t hurt. He wanted Braden to like him, if only because the boy was such a big part of Remy’s life, and Lane was, too. If they couldn’t get along, that wouldn’t bode well for their relationship in the long haul, would it?

We have two whole weeks to get to know each other better, Lane thought. Fourteen days. I’m going to make him like me or die trying.