Settle Down

“I’m bringing it with me. I will get a picture of the complete Christmas ensemble if it’s the last thing I do.” He handed Bette to Oscar. “Let me do a gift check.” He rummaged through the bags by the door, making sure they hadn’t forgotten any gifts.

Oscar held Bette up. “Look at you! You are so cute that you are going to kill your Grandma. She’s just going to keel over—bam! Death by cute overload.

Bette giggled and kicked her feet, causing one of her shoes to fly off. Noah picked it up and put it back on her.

“You know the minute we get there, those shoes are coming off,” Oscar said.

“They are part of the ensemble,” Noah said firmly.

Oscar handed Bette back to Noah. “All presents accounted for?”

“Yup.”

Oscar rubbed his temple. “You know we didn’t have to get a present for every single adult.”

Noah ran his hand over a shiny green bow before standing. “I know. It’s just that I have a lot of Christmases to make up for.”

A pained expression flickered across Oscar’s face. Noah didn’t bring up his Jehovah’s Witness upbringing often. It made Oscar too sad. But the expression only lasted a moment before shifting to something more mischievous. “So,” he waggled his eyebrows. “Are you wearing it?”

Noah lifted up his tastefully festive sweater to reveal the shirt underneath. It had a picture of a candy cane on it. Underneath were scrawled the words LICK ME.

Oscar laughed—no, he giggled. “Oh yes, Daddy—give me your pepperminty goodness.”

Noah rolled his eyes, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “The things I do for you.”

“I’ve got one too. Check it out.” He handed Bette over and then pulled up the ends of his sweater while gyrating sensually. The T-shirt was revealed—it said SANTA’S FAVORITE HO.

Bette squealed and clapped. “Don’t encourage Papa,” Noah said, trying to contain his laughter. She blew a raspberry. “You better not take off that sweater when we’re over there.”

Oscar pulled his sweater back into place. “Not making any promises.” He picked up the bags and gestured with his head toward the garage. “Let’s get out of here before my arms fall off.”

The ride to the Lozada house was short. They’d bought their condo to be close to Oscar’s parents, since Oscar’s mom, Carmen, watched Bette while they worked. Noah still felt guilty that they were getting free daycare, but Oscar said that his mom would pay them for the privilege of having Bette. Noah couldn’t deny how delighted Carmen was every time he dropped Bette off.
When they reached the house, Noah spotted the cars of the Lozada siblings. Alex and Chad, Oscar’s sister and her husband, drove a BMW. His sisters Stephanie and Sophia had a Civic and a Tesla, respectively. Nikki, Oscar’s youngest sister, probably got a ride with Stephanie. “Looks like we’re the last ones here.”

Oscar parked at the curb. He took the presents while Noah handled Bette and the baby gear. Everyone was gathered in the living room. Alex and her husband, Chad, were dressed in matching red-and-green cardigans. Stephanie wore a green sweatshirt that featured a picture of Yoda in a Santa hat. She also wore a new pair of glasses. They were a daring cat’s eye shape—he wondered if it had been Nikki or Sophia who had talked her into them.

Sophia was in a tasteful black turtleneck with a Christmas tree necklace; her son Jean-Michael was in reindeer pajamas, playing happily with the toys Santa brought him. Noah looked around for Sophia’s partner Christophe, but he didn’t seem to be there. Unsurprising. He wasn’t one for family gatherings, even on Christmas. He and Sophia had been together seven years and Noah could count the times he’d seen him on one hand.

Nikki wore one of the tackiest sweaters Noah had ever seen. Santa’s face was plastered across her chest, his eyes right over her breasts which made them seem to bug out. She’d dyed her hair with red and green stripes.

Carmen screamed with glee when she saw Bette. She ran toward them, arms outstretched, the bells on her sweater jingling. “Give me that Christmas baby!” Noah dutifully handed her over. “Look at you, mama!” she squealed. “I could just eat you, you are so sweet!”

Bette flailed her limbs and gurgled in pleasure. As Carmen cooed at the baby, Oscar’s dad, Miguel, came in from the kitchen, carrying two steaming mugs. He was the only one not festively dressed, wearing his usual worn jeans and a T-shirt. “Here, coffee.” He handed a mug to each of them. “I put in peppermint creamer.”

Oscar took a sip and locked eyes with Noah. “Mmm, pepperminty goodness.”

Noah’s cheeks heated, but he didn’t break their gaze. “Ho ho ho,” he said, deadpan.

Oscar’s face flushed and he sputtered, spraying coffee. He mumbled an apology and went to the kitchen to grab a towel. Noah grinned—a rare victory. Making Oscar blush was damn near impossible.