NATHAN’S GRANDFATHER, Stanford, is having a good day, much to my relief. These visits are bittersweet for Nathan on a regular day of the week, but seeing the upscale nursing facility cheerfully decorated for Christmas is just another reminder of all he’s lost.
But maybe, this year, it’s a reminder of what he’s gained as well.
Us.
The thought of all of us, and how in love with these men I am, makes this first Christmas together even more special.
Whereas normally Nathan strides down the hallway silently, alone, to his grandfather’s room, we’re a boisterous foursome today, gifts in hand, Crew in a Santa hat.
The Santa hat Nathan is eyeing with annoyance. “I told you not to wear that.”
“Jealous? I’ll let you borrow it.” Crew plucks it off his head and tries to put it on Nathan, who bats him away.
Before they can have one of their disagreements that aren’t really disagreements so much as their way of showing affection, they’re interrupted.
“Aren’t you Crew McNeill?” a man pushing a cart along the hallway asks, stopping and giving him a grin.
“Yes, I am,” Crew says, holding his hand out. “Pleasure to meet you, man.”
“Holy shit, this is crazy,” the guy says, shaking his hand. “I’m a huge Racketeers fan. Are you ready for Charlotte tonight? Their goalie is on fire.”
Crew gives him a cocky shrug. “But so am I.”
The guy laughs. “Damn. I’m Dave. It’s so cool to meet you. Can I get a selfie with you?”
“Absolutely, get over here. Santa hat or no Santa hat?”
“One hundred percent the hat.”
“See?” Crew tells Nathan, who snorts.
“I’ll take the pic,” I offer, holding my hand out for Dave’s phone. It still startles me, but I’m getting used to random people approaching Crew wanting an autograph or a selfie. They’re always excited, and they walk away even more so because Crew loves this aspect of his chosen career. He’s amazing at making fans feel special and appreciated.
“This is my girlfriend, Dani,” Crew tells Dave. “And Nathan Armstrong, the owner of the Racketeers, and Dr. Michael Hughes, the team physician.”
Dave’s eyes widen. “Holy shit,” he repeats. He shoves his phone at me. “It’s nice to meet you. I’ve seen you on social media at games and… stuff.”
By stuff, I’m assuming he’s meant the various supportive and a few disapproving comments online about my relationship with the guys. Occasionally, there have been some hateful remarks, but most people seem to eat up our hockey romance.
“Don’t believe everything you read online,” Nathan says.
Dave laughs nervously. “No shit.”
“Get in there,” I tell him, giving him a smile. “And thank you for all the hard work you do here at the nursing facility. We’re so appreciative of the care all the residents receive.”
“Oh, I’m just a janitor,” he said with a shrug.
“Everyone’s job here is important. This is home for these residents, and you have a hand in making it clean and comfortable for them.”
“Thanks,” Dave says, giving me a nod and a smile.
“Okay, say Merry Christmas,” I tell him, and I gesture for him and Crew to get closer. Crew throws his arm around Dave’s shoulders and gives a smile. “One, two, three—
“Merry Christmas,” they both say dutifully.
“Can I get one with all of you guys?” Dave asks. “Just really quick, I promise.”
“Sure,” Michael says.
“Even me?” I ask, a little surprised.
“Hell, yes,” Dave nods. “You’re the most famous girlfriend in hockey. My sister talks about how lucky you are all the time.”
That makes my cheeks heat. I guess I knew that, but hearing it out loud is odd. I don’t dislike it. Quite the opposite. “Well. Okay. Of course.”
Dave jogs off to grab a nurse, who dutifully comes over to take our picture with him.
Finally, we’re on our way again, and we enter Stanford’s room. Val, Stanford’s former secretary, and Nathan’s surrogate family, is already there. Her eyebrows shoot up when she sees all of us, but she’s clearly pleased as she smiles and waves as our entourage files in.
Michael is carrying a box from Books and Buns containing the chocolate chip cookies I know from past visits Stanford loves. Crew has managed to put his skates in a gift bag we picked up at a drug store on the way, and I have a poinsettia.
Nathan tolerates a hug from Val, but he looks self-conscious. I know it’s hard for him to be vulnerable.
We’re all about to spend the next three days being vulnerable as hell because four Christmases is a lot to handle, even if it is an exciting step forward in our relationship. I suspect the way Nathan looks now is how I’m going to feel when we walk into my parents’ house tomorrow. Nervous. Awkward. Uncertain what to say. Worried about what my family will say.
My parents know about my boyfriends because I finally told them two weeks ago, but they don’t really approve, and they definitely don’t understand. They find it hard to wrap their heads around, and I know they think–or at least hope–that this is some wild phase I’m going through and it will eventually end. Yes, I’m worried Christmas Eve will be a disaster.
But that’s tomorrow. Right now, I need to focus on reassuring Nathan that we’re all happy to be here with him.
I don’t really need to, though. Crew and Michael have it all under control.
As I give Val a hug, Crew is already shaking Stanford’s hand and buttering him up. “Mr. Armstrong, sir, it’s an honor. Thank you for all you’ve done for the Racketeers. I love this team with my whole damn heart.”
Stanford is smiling back at him. “Excellent. It’s a pleasure to meet you, kid. I’ve been watching you all season, and you’ve got a hell of a future here with the franchise. We haven’t won a championship since 1967, so I want you to bring one home for me before I die.”
For once, Crew looks sheepish and a little in awe.
“I think Stanford Armstrong is the only person on earth who can render McNeill speechless,” Michael murmurs to me.
I laugh softly. “I think you’re right.”
“Yes, sir, absolutely, sir,” Crew finally says, nodding rapidly. “I’ll give it everything I’ve got. Sir.”
“Why does he get to be called ‘sir’ and you call me Nate?” Nathan asks. “Why don’t I get that kind of respect?”
“Because you’re a damned grump,” Stanford tells him before Crew can reply.
Nathan snorts.
“I still can’t figure out how you scored this sweet and beautiful woman.” Stanford holds his hand out for me with a smile.
I smile back, my throat tightening as I take his hand. Stanford really is a lovely man. I wish so much that I could have known him before he got so frail and before his mind would wander so easily. I would have loved to hear all of his stories.
“I can’t either, Stan,” Nathan says, watching us with a bemused expression.
I’ve never known anyone who calls their grandfather by his first name, but Nathan said he got in the habit of it in his twenties because of keeping things professional within the Racketeers organization.
I squeeze Stanford’s hand. “I’m the lucky one. Your grandson is an amazing man.”
“Well, I really like him, and I’m glad you feel that way.” Stanford tugs me down to sit on the ottoman next to his chair, still holding my hand.
I feel Nathan move in behind me, and his hand on my shoulder. I look up at him, and we share a smile, and I see the love in his eyes.
Crew takes a seat on the sofa next to Val. She beams at him.
I blink. Val never beams at anyone.
“You’re doin’ good, kid,” she tells him.
Crew pushes his hair back from his face and gives her a smile. God, he’s so cute when he’s a little bashful.
Michael steps forward and extends the box of cookies. “Merry Christmas, Stanford.”
Stanford looks up at him, his eyes widening. “It’s Christmas?”
Michael nods. “It sure is. My favorite holiday.”
Stanford takes the box, and Michael pulls another chair up closer to our group. I reach out and take his hand. He gives me a wink as we link our fingers.
Stanford opens the box. “Chocolate chip!” he exclaims. “My favorite.”
“That’s what Nathan said,” Michael tells him with a nod.
Stanford looks up at Nathan. “You knew that?”
“Of course,” Nathan says. “You…” He clears his throat, and I reach up to cover his hand with mine. “You used to bring chocolate chip cookies to the owner’s box to share with me during games.”
My heart squeezes. He didn’t tell us that when he said he wanted to stop by the bakery for cookies.
Stanford nods slowly, his eyes focused on the wall past Michael, as if lost in thought. “You didn’t like any of the food we offered at the concession stands or that we catered into the owner’s box,” he said.
Nathan clears his throat again. “That’s right.”
I want to hug them both. I love that they’re sharing this memory, and that Nathan is seeing Stanford remember something sweet about his childhood.
Crew chuckles. “You didn’t like pizza and hot dogs? Even as a kid?”
I look up. Nathan is actually smiling. “I didn’t.”
Michael addresses Stanford. “What did Nathan eat as a kid? When he was eight or nine? Please tell me he at least liked peanut butter and jelly.”
Stanford nods his head. “Yes. And no.” He leans closer to Michael. “But he only likes freshly made peanut butter, not store-bought. That’s the fault of the cook we had when he was about six. She made it from scratch and insisted it was the best way, and he believed her. And he only likes jams because that sounds fancier. He also only likes it on biscuits or croissants.”
“Oh for…” Nathan mutters.
I’m pressing my lips together, trying not to laugh.
Crew isn’t even trying to pretend not to laugh. He laughs out loud. “Why am I not surprised you were pretentious even as a kid?”
“That was a long time ago,” Nathan protests. “I was influenced by a lot of books and movies. And I’ve…loosened up.”
But even he hesitates to say that about himself, and again, Crew laughs.
“Just last year, you would only eat orange marmalade,” Stanford says, chuckling with Crew.
I look from him to Nathan. Nathan is looking at his grandfather with a mix of affection and sadness. I’m guessing that wasn’t just last year.
Stanford is starting to slip a bit. All of the excitement of having us all here and finding out it’s Christmas is maybe confusing him a bit.
“I had an orange marmalade period too,” Michael says.
I look over at him. “Really?”
“Paddington,” he says. He looks up at Nathan. “Right?”
“Right,” Nathan replies, his voice a little gruff.
Oh, I love my nerdy bookworm boyfriend so much. Not just that he’s read so much and fondly remembers details from childhood books, but that he can use those details to support Nathan.
“I also begged my parents to let me try Turkish delight and egg creams because of books,” Michael tells Stanford. He shakes his head. “Was disappointed every time.”
Stanford chuckles, but Nathan says, “I loved The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. And I finally found great Turkish delight in New York City after trying it several times because of Narnia.” He clears his throat again, and I reach up to squeeze his hand. “I’ll take you to that shop sometime,” he tells Michael, squeezing me back.
Michael grins at him. “Can’t wait. And if you’ve ever found a good cream cheese and liverwurst sandwich, I’d love to know.”
Nathan shudders. “I quit trying after one of those.” Now he finally chuckles himself. “No matter how much I loved A Wrinkle in Time, I just couldn’t agree with Meg on that one.”
“Cynthia can make anything taste good,” Stanford says. “Even liverwurst.”
“Who’s Cynthia?” Crew asks.
“Our cook,” Stanford says.
“She was,” Nathan says quietly. “Thirty years ago.” He directs it to Crew, but Stanford hears him.
“What do you mean? She made my breakfast this morning,” Stanford says, frowning. “She always makes my eggs just how I like them.”
I know from experience that it’s better to just go along with him when he gets his timing mixed up. Arguing simply doesn’t matter. And one of the sweetest things I’ve seen is how gentle Nathan is with him, even when I know it breaks his heart.
“She makes perfectly poached eggs,” Nathan agrees, easily switching gears. “And her hollandaise sauce is excellent.”
“Oh, you are so an eggs benedict guy,” Crew says, also adjusting on the fly. He leans in toward Stanford. “But so am I.” He winks.
Stanford grins. “I like mine with smoked salmon instead of ham.”
“Never had it that way,” Crew says. “But I have had it with pulled pork instead.” He puts his fingers to his lips and kisses the tips with a smack. “Delicious.”
“I’ll have to make you eggs benedict my way,” Michael says. “I use crab cakes.”
Crew grasps Michael’s arm with one hand and puts the other over his own heart. “Yes. Oh my God, yes.”
“I want to try that too,” Stanford says. “That sounds amazing.”
“Michael’s an amazing cook,” I tell him. “You need to try his stuffed French toast too.”
“I can’t wait,” Stanford says. “I love brunch.”
“Me too,” I tell him. And I do. I’ve always loved brunch, but since Michael became my personal chef, I really love brunch. And I’m even willing to give up the regular naked brunches we have at Nathan’s if Stanford is able to come.
“Oh, Stanford, hey, I brought you something,” Crew says, reaching for the gift bag. He slides it across the floor to set it at Stanford’s feet.
Stanford’s eyes light up. “A Christmas present?”
“Yep,” Crew tells him. “I hope you like it.”
Stanford leans over and digs through the black and silver tissue paper Crew and Michael stuffed in on top of the skates. He withdraws a skate, holds it up, and reads Crew’s signature.
His eyes widen, and he looks up at Nathan. “Look at this!”
Nathan smiles and nods. “Pretty great, right?”
Stanford looks at Crew again. “You got me skates signed by Andrew Mars? That’s amazing!”
He really does look like a little kid in that moment.
Crew opens his mouth, but Nathan says quickly, “Of course. He’s your favorite hockey player, right?”
“Definitely!”
Crew clamps his mouth shut. Nathan is grinning, and I know it’s in part because his grandfather is so happy. But it’s also because Stanford is excited over a different hockey player now.
I can’t wait to hear the banter between these two about this.
We visit for another thirty minutes, enjoying the cookies and listening to Stanford talk about Andrew Mars who was, evidently, an amazing hockey forward in the nineties that Stanford tried to recruit, unsuccessfully, to the Racketeers for years.
We finally decide it’s time to go when Stanford starts to nod off. Crew and Michael both shake Stanford’s hand. I hug him and give him a kiss on the cheek, and watch Nathan hug him as well. Val leans over and hugs him, and whispers something in his ear.
Then Stanford calls out, “Kick ass tonight, McNeill!”
Crew and Michael are nearly to the door. Crew stops and turns back with a grin. “Will do, Mr. Armstrong.”
“You know my birthday is next month,” Stanford says.
Crew pauses and glances at Nathan. Nathan gives him a slight shake that says that’s not true. Crew still grins at Stanford. “Let me guess, you want more cookies when I come back to visit for your birthday?”
Stanford nods. “Yes! But also…maybe you could sign something for me. You’re one of my favorite players too.”
Crew looks surprised. Then, making my heart melt, he blushes. He actually blushes. “I would be honored to sign something for you, Mr. Armstrong.”
“Call me Stanford.”
Crew tips his head. “Okay. See you soon, Stanford.”
Crew turns to head out, with Michael falling in step beside him. Nathan and I are right behind them. I feel like I need to have my arm around Nathan right now. These visits always take a lot out of him, and I love the realization that I actually make him feel better.
When we get to the car, Nathan reaches up and claps Crew on the shoulder.
Crew looks over with a brow up.
“Thanks,” Nathan says simply.
I wait for Crew to tease him or say something flippant. Instead, Crew pulls Nathan in for a bro hug. He pats him on the back and says, “It was my pleasure.”
Then Crew climbs into the SUV.
Nathan takes a deep breath. Michael gives him a smile and also gives him one of those one-armed-half-hugs that men do. “Thanks for letting us come along.” Then he rounds the vehicle and gets in.
Nathan is just standing there, and I tug on his coat sleeve. “Hey.”
He looks down.
“You okay?” I ask.
He takes a deep breath and then nods. “I’m…really okay.”
I smile and lift up to press a quick kiss to his lips. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I start to turn toward the SUV to also get in, but Nathan grabs my hand and tugs me back to face him. He lifts his hand to my face. “I really love you, Dani. Thank you.”
I frown. “For what?”
“For…being my family. For showing me that I wanted that again. For making me see that I could have it again when I didn’t believe it.”
I feel my eyes stinging slightly. “Thank you for letting me. And for being open to this family.”
He glances at the SUV. “They were really great.”
“They love you too.”
He takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah. I’m…”
“What?” I ask.
“Actually looking forward to the next couple of days. Meeting all of your families and everything.”
I laugh. “You say that now.” I lift up and kiss him on the cheek, then turn for the SUV. “But no matter what happens, you can’t get out of this now.” I glance over my shoulder at him and give him a wink. “And you have to bring Crew and Michael back to see Stanford for his birthday next month. You know Crew won’t forget.”
