But you want to fuck him. And you already have.”
“No, I haven’t.” Depending on one’s definition of the word. Max turned back to his duffel, emptying it into the laundry basket in the corner.
“Did you bring anything that doesn’t need to be washed?”
“Of course not.”
“Me either, to be fair. Also? You’re lying.”
He held out his hands in protest, running over every movement he’d made. What the hell gave it away?
Meg went on. “I mean, the way you two were eye-fucking this morning at the bus station, even the old lady behind us was like, get a room.”
“We’re not—” He tossed his toilet bag onto the bed and zipped his empty duffel, kicking it into the corner by the closet. “Fine, we had a little friends-with-benefits thing going on, but just for a few days. I told him about the house rules, and we both agreed to put on the brakes. He’s a nice kid. Are you going to narc? Would you rather he spent Christmas alone in res?”
She curled her lip. “Obviously not. What kind of asshole do you take me for? Also, Mom and Dad wouldn’t throw him out, so throttle back on the drama. They’re just uptight about us sleeping in the same bed with someone at home. Even though we’re supposed to be adults, it’s their house, so whatever. You and Jeremy are still allowed to be dating. You’re staying in separate rooms, so why are you being weird about this?”
“Because I’m not supposed to like him this much!” Max shout-whispered.
Meg grinned triumphantly but kept her voice down. “I knew it.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
She frowned. “So what’s the prob? He seems really sweet. Kinda nerdy, so not your usual type, but nothing wrong with that.”
“I was just going to do a little fairy godfathering. Help him find his way since he came out pretty recently and doesn’t really have any friends at school yet.” Obviously Max wasn’t going to betray Jeremy’s trust and tell Meg about the virgin stuff. “I’m not supposed to be falling for him.”
“Why not?”
“Because that’s not the plan.” But did he even want that plan?
“I know law school will be busy, but I’m pretty sure you can still date during it.”
Law school was the last thing he wanted to get into. “I’ve just had everything laid out for so long and now…”
She smiled, her tone teasing. “You know, it’s okay for Captain Max to not have every little thing figured out. You can call an audible.”
“Changing the play at the last minute doesn’t always go well.”
I promised Mom at her funeral I’d be a lawyer just like her.
But do I actually want to be a lawyer? Would I rather be a teacher? Or something else?
Will Mom understand?
Meg said, “But sometimes you get a touchdown.”
“Kids!” Valerie called from downstairs. “Tree time!”
It was a relief to put aside the swirl of conflicting emotions, the little whispers fading. They met Jeremy in the hall coming out of the bathroom and went down. Max inhaled the delicious smell coming from the kitchen with relish as Jeremy asked, “Wow. What is that?”
“Papy’s maple bourbon apple cider,” Max answered. “It’s our tradition for tree-trimming.”
Papy came into the living room with a tray of steaming mugs, his shuffling steps steady enough, though Valerie and his dad looked like they wanted to grab the tray from him. But he set it on the coffee table himself with a groan as he stooped, then went to get the pastries.
They all took a mug, and Max warmed his hands around it, blowing on the steaming cider. His dad stoked the fire with a shower of sparks, and Valerie unpacked the old boxes of decorations, unwinding neatly twined bundles of golden fairy lights.
Jeremy exclaimed, “Oh!” as he gulped a mouthful of cider. “Is that alcoholic?”
“Of course,” Papy said as he shuffled back in with a plate stacked high with pets-de-soeur pastries.
“We’re French-Canadian,” Meg said. “Booze, maple, Catholic guilt. The three major food groups.”
Jeremy laughed. “What’s the fourth?”
“Hmm.” Meg said, “Papy, what do you think?”
“Tourtière.”
“Not poutine?” Max teased, knowing Papy wasn’t a fan.
Papy glared as he got settled on his spot on the middle love seat. “Meat pie is better and you know it.”
Max grinned and took a bite of buttery pastry. “Mmm. Papy, this is amazing.”
He shrugged but looked pleased. “Your mamy’s recipe is the best. Simple.”
Mouth full, Meg mumbled, “Mmm. Butter, brown sugar, maple. Doesn’t get better.”
Dad stood and clapped his hands. “All right, this tree won’t decorate itself.”
“It’s your job to put on the