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  His dad frowned. “I liked Nate. I liked Nate as much as your mother liked Jessica. I still do. But it didn’t happen. I’ve never wanted you to be alone. And Channon,” he went on, looking Jack square in the eye, “is a very nice young man, and I like what he’s done to you. You seem relaxed and happy. He seems relaxed and happy. And I can’t help but think you deserve it. Both of you.”

  Jack’s throat was tight. For a moment he couldn’t say anything, but then the words just came out of him without thought. “I’m going to ask him to marry me.”

  His dad nodded. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. When?”

  “May. For our anniversary. We’re going to Venice.”

  But his dad frowned. “You’re going to wait five months? Son, I don’t know if you remember how good you are at keeping secrets.”

  “I’m good at keeping secrets,” Jack protested, but his dad looked skeptical at best.

  “You’re impatient. I don’t think you can keep a lid on it until May.”

  “I’m very patient,” Jack said, thinking of all the delayed gratification they did. God, he’d wanted to fuck Channon the first night he met him, and he’d waited weeks for the perfect opportunity. Though. Five months?

  His dad fixed him with a Look. “How many people have you told already?”

  “Just you. And Nate.”

  “And how long do you think Nate can keep it a secret?”

  “Forever.”

  “What about your mother?”

  Jack hesitated. Oh. No. “You’re not going to tell her.”

  “I’m not, unless you allow it. But if she finds out I knew for months and I didn’t tell her? She’ll divorce me.”

  It was an exaggeration (Jack hoped), but still, his dad had a point. Nate was going to tell Ewan. And Ewan…

  Fuck. “I need to get on top of this,” Jack said, wondering exactly how much time he had before Ewan spilled the beans. “I need to get a ring. That could take weeks.”

  “Channon doesn’t strike me as someone who’d want something fancy,” his dad said, far too calm for Jack’s blood. “I think he’s more the sentimental type.”

  It was true. “Definitely,” Jack said, his mind racing. It was Christmas Day. Could he get a ring before New Year’s? They were headed to the snow tomorrow, and there was no time.

  “In that case, I have a solution.” Jack’s dad stood up, and Jack could see how much he was enjoying himself from the twinkle in his eye. “Let’s go talk to your mother.”

  ❧

  The ring was gold, low profile, and had three diamonds in it. Understated, masculine, and stylishly simple. “Where did you get it?” Jack asked.

  His mom beamed. “That was my father’s. When he asked your grandmother to marry him, neither of them had any money, so he bought her the cheapest ring he could find. He always meant to surprise her with a replacement, but the time never seemed right. And then, at their fiftieth wedding anniversary—don’t you remember?”

  Jack did. “They renewed their vows. He gave her a ring, and she gave him one too.”

  His mom nodded, her eyes glistening. “It was your uncle George who let slip to Mom what Dad was planning. I think he was miffed for about ten seconds before he got over it. And this was his ring.” She wiped her eyes with her fingers. Jack pretended not to notice. “Do you want to give it to Channon?”

  It wasn’t what he’d planned. For a moment he resisted, but no, this was right. “If you’re okay with that, I’d really like to.”

  “I think that’s perfect,” she said, still trying not to tear up. Jack hugged her, feeling a little overwhelmed. Everything was happening so fast. And yet, hadn’t this been a long time in the making?

  He’d brought Channon home to meet his parents over a year ago. He’d known then that he wanted something serious, something permanent. And now.

  Now all Channon had to do was say yes.

  “Are you going to do it tonight?” his mom asked, her face pinched with excitement.

  “I’m not asking him in front of the family,” Jack said. “That’s too much pressure. If he’s not sure—”

  “That’s probably best.” She patted his arm. “Don’t wait too long, though. I’m not getting any younger.”

  “Mom,” Jack chided. Then he kissed her cheek. “I’ll try not to test your patience.”

  Still, he had to wait for the kids to come back, for Helen and Frank’s clan to leave, leftovers to be served up with a few extras, for someone to suggest they watch Labyrinth again. Everyone was piling into the basement with pillows and blankets and sleeping bags when Jack took Channon’s hand, his heart in his throat. “Hey. Sneak off with me.”

  Channon grinned, and they crept away to pull on coats and boots and scarves. Jack led him out the back door, past Sasha (curled up on the loveseat under a blanket, FaceTiming her boyfriend), and over the snow-encrusted grass to the back gate.

  “Where are we going?”

  Jack squeezed Channon’s hand through their gloves. “Don’t you trust me?”

  Channon let out a laugh suspiciously like a giggle. “With my life.”

  “Then trust me now.”

  The woods were dark, but Jack had been coming out this way since he’d been old enough to walk, and he’d brought a flashlight. Channon followed him dutifully, his breath misting in the icy air. They didn’t walk far, just up to the ridge where you could look down and see Coleridge spread out like a diamond-studded shawl. It was cold and quiet, and Jack had come up here a lot when he’d been a teenager, looking for a way out of the life he’d felt stifled him.

  “Hey,” he said, tugging Channon close. He was going to do this. His heart thumped heavy against his ribs. Were these nerves? But he was sure Channon would say yes.

  Suddenly he wasn’t sure, not one hundred percent. Not even ninety-nine percent—suddenly he wondered if he was making a terrible mistake, if it was too soon. If maybe Channon would say no because that was the sensible thing to do, to refuse, not to tie himself to the first man who ever paid attention to him.

  Indecision and doubt were things Jack had thought himself beyond, but that had been, he realized now, extremely arrogant.

  “Hey,” Channon said. He buried his face in Jack’s chest and hummed happily. “Merry Christmas, Sir.”

  “Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Have you had a good day?”

  “It was the best,” Channon said, sounding sweetly honest. “I like your family.”

  “Did you call your mom?”

  “Yeah. She’s got Grandma over for the holidays. Um.” He looked up. “I think she turned my room into another spare room, so…that’s good?”

  It was, Jack had to concede, only sensible. But it seemed cruel to do it little more than a year after Channon had left home. “And your dad?”

  “He actually picked up this time,” Channon said, a bemused look on his face like he didn’t know what to do with it. “He said he’d visit, and maybe next year I could come to see him.”

  “For Christmas?” Jack wondered if he’d be welcome there.

  “No, just for a visit. Maybe I’ll get to meet them.”

  He meant the little half-brother and half-sister he’d never known. Jack squeezed him. “I hope so. They’re family.”

  “It’s not the same as your family,” Channon said. He sounded wistful, but not unhappy. Jack kissed his hair.

  “Hey. Sweetheart. There’s something I want to ask you.” He took Channon by the shoulders. Channon looked up expectantly, and Jack realized he didn’t actually have a speech for this. God, this was all…unplanned.

  But Channon smiled, and Jack’s chest hurt, and he thought, I need to know he’s mine. God, please say yes.

  “You like my family.” Channon nodded. “You know they like you too, right?”

  “I know. They’re nice to me.”

  “My parents think of you as family already. Theresa’s started calling you ‘Uncle Channon’.”

  Channon wrinkled his nose. “Brayden wa
s doing it too. And their cousin—Gordy? He started doing it, and Brayden said I wasn’t Gordy’s uncle, and they nearly got into a fight about it.”

  Jack could just imagine. “What did you do?”

  “Nothing. Sasha said everyone had to share. So I guess I’m Uncle Channon, now, even if Aaron thinks it’s gross.”

  Jack wet his lip. “Do you think it’s gross?”

  “No.” Channon grinned. “I’ve never been an uncle before. It’s cool.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Jack hesitated, but he couldn’t delay it any longer, and frankly he didn’t want to. “I’ve been thinking. About the future, and the shape of it. And how I want you in it with me. Because you mean the world to me, and whatever shape my life might take, I want you to be a part of it. I need you to have solid proof of my love for you. I want you to know it, and never doubt it again. But I didn’t know how to prove it to you.”

  “You don’t have to prove it to me,” Channon protested, his hands tangling in Jack’s scarf. “I know. You tell me every day.”

  “And yet. Sometimes I think you worry I’m going to get sick of you, or let you go without a fight. But it’s not like that. I want you and me to be us. I want everyone to know you’re mine and I’m yours. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. And I’ve stopped thinking that’s selfish. I’ve started thinking that it’s the only thing I can stand. So. Channon Beaumont.” Jack went down on one knee in the snow. He saw Channon’s eyes widen, and when he took the ring out of his pocket, Channon’s mouth fell open like he’d been slapped. “I want to be your husband. I want you to be mine. Will you marry me?”

  For a heart-stopping moment Channon just stared, stock still like he’d never move again. Jack felt his heart pull taut and twist, because if Channon said no…God, what would he do if Channon said no?

  “Do you mean it?” Channon whispered, the words choked and small. “You really want to?”

  “Don’t you?” Jack asked, his heart full in his throat like it might kill him.

  “Yes, but…you could have anyone.” Channon snapped his mouth shut, and for a second, he looked utterly terrified. “No. I mean yes. I mean yes, please, Jack, I don’t—”

  “I’m going to need you to make a decision, Channon,” Jack said, relief coming over him like a balm. He’d said yes. He really had, but Jack needed to hear it again.

  “Yes, yes, yes,” Channon gasped, and then Jack had to grab his hand and pull his glove free to slide the ring onto his finger because Channon didn’t seem to know what to do.

  He meant to get up, but Channon wrapped his arms around Jack’s head and bent down to press their mouths together. He was quivering. Jack kissed him, trying to put all his gratitude and satisfied relief into it. Channon had said yes. Of course he’d said yes. Fuck, he really had.

  “I love you so much, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Don’t ever forget it.”

  “You asked me to marry you,” Channon breathed. “How am I gonna forget? I’m getting married. I’m getting married. Oh my God!”

  “Mmm, now you can stop calling me your boyfriend and start saying ‘fiancé’.”

  Channon snickered and kissed him again, and then he helped Jack to his feet and tried to bury himself in Jack’s coat. “Sir. Sir, Sir…”

  “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ve got you.”

  Channon sighed. “Yeah, you do.” It sounded like he finally believed it.

  ❧

  They agreed not to tell anyone that night. Instead, they snuck back into the house and then upstairs to Jack’s old room. Jack wedged a chair under the door handle and hoped no one would check in on them. They made out under the covers for what felt like hours, just sliding against one another in the dark. Channon gasped into Jack’s mouth, and Jack tried to smother every noise he made. It was warm and close and wonderful, and Channon came with his teeth latched in Jack’s shoulder, the pain of it bringing Jack right to the edge, two rough thrusts before he spilled over Channon’s belly.

  They basked quietly in each other’s arms. Jack felt euphoric. He realized Channon was fiddling with the ring. “Does it fit okay?”

  “It’s good,” Channon said. “I’m just not used to it.”

  “You don’t have to wear it to bed.”

  Channon made a horrified noise. “I’m not taking it off. Ever.”

  “You don’t have to take it off, either,” Jack reassured him, kissing up behind his ear. “You know, that ring belonged to my grandfather.”

  “Really?”

  “Mmm-hmm. My grandmother gave it to him.”

  He told Channon the story, and Channon was very quiet for an alarmingly long moment before he said, “That’s really nice. Is it okay that I have it? I mean, I’m not family.”

  “No, you see, you are. That’s what it means, Channon. You’re family now.”

  Channon whimpered, and for a second Jack thought he’d said something wrong, but then Channon had twisted, turning into Jack’s embrace to bury his face in Jack’s neck. “Thank you. I love it.”

  “You haven’t really had a good look at it,” Jack countered, but Channon wouldn’t let that stand.

  “I don’t care. I love it. And I love you, Sir.”

  Jack kissed Channon’s temple and held him close. “I know, sweetheart. I love you too.”

  Chapter Three

  When Channon woke up, he was engaged.

  The memory of Jack kneeling down in the snow came over him like a fever, and he brought his left hand up out of the covers to check his finger. The fat gold ring lay against his skin like a collar, and he felt like his heart was going to give out.

  He was engaged. To Jack. Who was stirring against him, one arm coming over to tighten around Channon’s ribs.

  “Sweetheart?”

  His voice was rough, ragged with sleep, and Channon’s heart ached so much it was hard to breathe. They were engaged. They were going to get married. Jack wanted to keep him forever, and it was the best Christmas present Jack could have given him.

  “Channon? You okay?”

  Channon kissed him. Jack’s mouth came open with a grunt, and then he hummed, slipping his tongue over Channon’s lip to taste him. His hand found the back of Channon’s head, holding him in place as he plundered Channon’s mouth.

  Eventually, he let his head fall back on the pillow. “Good morning.” His smile was soft and wonderful. “How are you feeling?”

  “We’re engaged,” Channon said, holding up his hand like Jack had never seen it before.

  Jack chuckled, a deep, lovely sound, and he kissed Channon again. Just a sweet little peck, but it felt glorious. “Yeah, sweetheart. We’re engaged. I have a fiancé. I’ve never had a fiancé before.”

  That was right. Jack’s family (or his brother at least) had thought Jack might get engaged to his old girlfriend, but that had never happened.

  “I’m your first,” Channon said, feeling it dig into him and lodge deep.

  “And my last,” Jack said, grinning like a schoolkid. “I’m never going to get engaged again, because I’m going to marry you and keep you forever.”

  It flowed down Channon’s bones like lava, melting him to Jack in a happy puddle. “Fuck, yes.”

  Between Jack’s wandering hands and Channon’s reluctance to be apart from him, it took forever to get out of bed. Eventually, though, Jack urged him to the bathroom, and when Channon was done showering, Jack took his turn. Then it took even longer to get dressed because neither Jack nor Channon seemed capable of leaving the other one alone long enough to put on their clothes.

  In the end, Jack sighed into Channon’s neck. “Sweetheart, we have to have breakfast. We’ve got a flight to catch.”

  Not for hours yet, but Channon peeled away from Jack far enough to watch him slip into jeans and a charcoal sweater.

  Before they went down, Jack stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I really want to tell everyone, but I want to make sure you’re okay with it.”

  “If you don’t, I’m goi
ng to burst a blood vessel,” Channon told him, very solemnly.

  Jack grinned and ruffled Channon’s hair. “Well, we can’t have that.”

  The moment they got downstairs, Jack’s mom pounced on them.

  “Channon! Honey! Good morning, would you like some—” and then she gasped, grabbing his hand. “Oh!”

  She stared down at the ring on his finger as Channon’s face grew hot, and then looked up at Jack like she was about to die.

  “Jonathan?”

  Jack burst out laughing, clutching his chest with one hand and Channon’s hip with the other. “Mom, did you have a question?”

  “Did you…” and she narrowed her eyes at Jack, in a way that suggested he was in trouble. “Jonathan!” Channon bit his lip, too happy to worry about anything and so amused by it all.

  “So,” Jack said loudly, “Channon and I are engaged.”

  His mom burst into tears and hugged Channon, then Jack, then Channon again, and then had to go sit down. Channon didn’t know what to do, ducking his head so he didn’t have to look anyone in the face.

  He felt Jack’s hand on him tighten. “Chris, are you giving your wife money? Did you bet on this?”

  Channon glanced up to see Christopher with his hand outstretched, caught in the act.

  Jack sounded indignant. “Did you bet against me?”

  “Not against you, I just said it would be next Christmas,” Christopher protested.

  Gloria came over to kiss Jack’s cheek. “I’m spending it on Starbucks,” she said. “No one can stop me. Congratulations,” she added, kissing Channon as well.

  “Thank you,” he said, fairly sure this was okay but a little worried about what everyone made of it all.

  Brayden seemed to think it was melodramatic, and Theresa made sure everyone knew she’d called dibs on flower girl duties over a year ago. Sasha just watched them with a smug look, blowing Channon a kiss over her phone.

  Aaron groaned. “Does that mean I have to call you ‘Uncle Channon’ too? I hate that.”

  “No one has to call Channon anything,” Jack told him. “That’s optional. Anyway. I would like breakfast, and for everyone to be happy for us, thank you.”