Lucky Number Four (28 page)

“Jeff, go tell Drew we’re ready to head out.
You’re going to drive my car, right?” He nods as he opens the
door.

“Hey, Drew, you ready?” he yells.

“No need to yell. I’m right here,” I hear
Drew’s deep voice answer.

“Wow, what’s all this?” Jeff asks, causing me
to turn and watch Drew walk into the room with several bags.

“Presents. It is Christmas, right? The time
for giving.” He laughs after looking at both Jeff and me. We’re
stunned. The bags are barely able hold the plethora of brightly
wrapped items.

“Yes, but you didn’t have to buy anything,” I
say. “My family invited you to dinner. They don’t expect
presents.”

“Well, I guess that’s too bad, because here
they are.” He shrugs his wide shoulders and takes a seat on the
bed.

“I don’t know how we’ll fit everything in my
car.” I shake my head at the idea of trying to.

“No worries. We’ll take the sedan. It’ll all
fit in the trunk. I love big trunks.” He beams before leaving the
room, and returns seconds later with his coat in one hand and a
Santa hat in the other. “Have I mentioned to you two that I love
Christmas? Well, if I haven’t, I do. Hurry, get your coats on so we
can get on the road.”

Drew takes his bags, and we grab ours before
following him to the elevator. I’m rush to catch up with Jeff and
Drew after making sure the door is locked. Drew holds the elevator
open for me with a grin on his face, and I just can’t help but grin
back at him. He looks so adorable in his Santa hat.

Jeff helps Drew put the bags in the trunk,
and I scramble into backseat, loving the feel of the soft leather.
My car has more than a hundred thousand miles and crappy cloth
seats. I’m not into cars, but I know luxury when I feel it. The few
times I’ve ridden in Drew’s car, I failed to notice how decadent it
is, and I immediately have a vision of Drew and some girl utilizing
the backseat. The girl is blocked by Drew’s head and I feel a
little jealous of whoever she is.

Damn, where the hell did the word “jealous”
come from? I’m sure this backseat and his bedroom have seen some
action. The tabloids have field days with his love life, or should
I say sex life? A different woman every night. Okay, so maybe it’s
more like once a week.

Nope, not jealous. In fact, I pity them,
falling for someone they can’t hold on to. I feel that Colin would
be different. According to all the info I’ve found on him, he likes
long-term relationships, and isn’t into one-night stands.

Dora, wake up. You don’t need any more drama
in your life, so forget about Colin and never in a million years
think about Drew in this way again … even though he bought presents
for your whole family and can be so sweet when he wants to.

“Are you asleep?” Jeff asks, and I open my
eyes to see him and Drew looking at me.

“Nope, just enjoying the fact I have this
awesome, leathery backseat all to myself. Drew, drive on. God
forbid we’re late. I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Both guys turn back around, and I hear the
engine purr to life before we roll smoothly out of our garage.

“Dora, we’re here.”

Jeff opens my door, startling me. I can’t
believe I fell asleep. Did I snore? I feel my face. At least I
didn’t drool. Drew is hidden by the trunk as I let Jeff help me out
of the car.

“It snowed.” I look around in wonder at the
light layer of white stuff covering everything.

“You were out cold. I thought your snoring
would shake the car, but thank goodness it has good shocks.”

“I didn’t snore,” I stammer. “Did I?” I smack
Jeff’s shoulder as he gives me a wicked grin.

“Ow. You’re so gullible.”

“What did I miss?” Drew chimes in, his hands
full of bags. I relieve Drew of a couple of the bags while sending
him a smile, but then turn back to glare at Jeff.

“Nothing. Here, Jeff, you get the rest.” I
start up the driveway, careful to avoid the black ice, with Drew
following closely behind. Before I can knock, the door swings open
and my dad’s beaming face greets us.

“Merry Christmas, all. Drew, I love your
hat.” My dad points to his own identical Santa hat.

“Seems we have good taste, sir.” Drew
attempts to shake hands with my dad, but it’s awkward with his
hands full.

“What did I tell you about calling me sir?
It’s Alex, and here, let me help you with those.” He grabs some of
the bags and moves out of the way so we can move inside. Behind us
we hear a “whoa,” and Jeff slides on the slick driveway, somehow
managing to stay on his feet.

“Wow, that was smooth, Jeff.” Bridget peeks
her head around us and gives him a thumbs up. Is it bad that I’m
secretly happy his grin is a little wobbly?

“Hey, Bridget, it’s good to see you again,”
Drew says.

She blushes bright red as he leans down to
give her a hug. “Yeah, you too. Have to go and help Mom,” she
mumbles, and I see her grab her phone from her pocket. I’d bet a
million dollars that she’s conference calling her posse as she runs
into the house.

“Did I hear my name?” My beautiful mom looks
amazing in her red Christmas sweater and long black skirt, and even
her fuzzy bunny slippers don’t seem to ruin the outfit.

“Yeah, Bridget said she was coming to help
you, but unless that means going upstairs and making a phone call,
she forgot,” I say dryly.

“For gosh sakes, Alex, let everyone in. Are
you trying to heat the outdoors?” Mom pulls us in and Jeff follows
right behind us.

Dad shakes his head, and the white bobble
thing on the top of his hat jumps around. “FYI, I was admiring
Drew’s car and the snow.”

“Oh my goodness, look at all of these
presents.” Mom says. “Let’s get them under the tree. I have to
hurry back into the kitchen. Your grandmothers are in there by
themselves. Dora, you come with me. I need to have you there just
in case we need a referee. Alex, take Jeff and Drew into the living
room, and make sure you wake up Dad. He’s had a long enough nap.
Dinner is going to be a little late. It seems the turducken needs
more time than the roast. Oh, I forgot hugs.”

She motions for Jeff to lean down and gives
him a big hug and then motions for Drew and gives him the same. My
heart jumps a little at the look on Drew’s face when my mom hugs
him. He even closes his eyes.

“Now, off you men go and leave the cooking to
us. That doesn’t mean you won’t get out of doing dishes though.”
She pivots and I follow her into the oddly quiet kitchen.

Grandma stands at the stove stirring
something, and Grandmother is sitting at the kitchen table peeling
potatoes. The kitchen smells lovely and my stomach growls, letting
me know it didn’t have breakfast this morning.

Grandmother looks at me sternly. “I heard
that, young lady. Breakfast is the most important meal of the
day.”

“I was too busy wrapping presents, but I
usually do eat breakfast.” A lecture on Christmas Day is just what
I need.

“A body is a machine that will not work if
not properly maintained,” she continues. Oh brother. How many times
have I heard this in my life? A times million at least. “When I was
your age, I ate a nutritional meal three times a day. Not like you
youngsters who drink those power drinks and eat doughnuts. I swear,
our country is in trouble with the shape of the youth today.”

It’s best to not say anything and just let
her rant. I hope when I’m her age—okay, if I make it to her age—I
will not act anything like the woman peeling potatoes in front of
me.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart.” Grandma grabs
me in a hug and smacks a kiss on my cheek. Then she turns to her
adversary. “Take the stick out. It’s Christmas for Pete’s sake.”
And with that, she goes back to the stove with a wide smile on her
face. I look at my mom, who’s trying to keep a straight face, but
fails to as she opens the refrigerator pretending to look for
something.

Yes, it’s a typical start to Christmas. Love,
family, and comments about my grandmother’s stick…what more could I
ask for?

“So, Dora, only Drew could make it? Where’s
his family at this time of year? Are they Jewish? Do they know he’s
queer?”

Grandma doesn’t even take a breath, and I’m
left wondering if I should answer or let her grill him herself. In
light of the holiday I decide to answer her questions. “His parents
are divorced and are off with their new families, and his sister is
visiting her boyfriend’s family in Spain. Yes, the country Spain.
No, they’re not Jewish, and finally, he’s not gay.”

“As usual, your insensitivity is spot on,”
Grandmother says. “Wait, what? He’s not gay? I only allowed you to
live there under the assumption they were all gay. I think we need
to discuss this.”

Allow me to live with them? For all that is
holy, I don’t need her permission. But I keep my mouth shut and
look to my mom, who has finally come out of the fridge empty-handed
but in control of her emotions.

“Beatrice, Dora is an adult, and she has her
own little apartment within their loft. I think she’s sensible and
levelheaded.” Good ol’ Mom always comes through for me.

“Yeah, Beatrice, butt out. Our Dora is not
looking for some eye candy, who may or may not be gay,” Grandma
adds.

“If she had gone to finishing school, this
wouldn’t have happened. She would have graduated by now, and we’d
be planning a society wedding. She would most definitely not be
living in sin with three men. I can assure you of that.”

Should I keep my mouth shut, or should I
blast away? It’s a family holiday, so I bite my tongue. I’m getting
tired of her attitude toward me though. I guess I’ll be a wimp and
let it slide like I always do.

“Beatrice,” my mom says in a shocked voice.
“She is not living in sin. That would mean she’s sleeping with one
of them, and …” My mom’s face is full of anger.

“Mother, you apologize to Dora.” Dad snuck by
us and is now standing in front of Grandmother. His face is flushed
and as he puts an arm around my mom.

“I just meant that we would have never
thought of—”

“I know what you meant, and I don’t like it.
So apologize right now.” His tone is stern and Grandmother’s eyes
widen as she realizes her mistake.

“Dora, sweetheart, you know what I meant. I
have only your best interests at heart. I’m sorry if what I said
was inappropriate.” She sniffles at the end, and I swear I see
tears glistening in her eyes.

“You’re forgiven, Grandmother.” I lean down,
side hug her and place a kiss on her cheek. Deep down, I know she
means well.

“Turducken’s done!” Grandma says, opening the
oven and pulling out the roasting dish.

“Dora, you go out and entertain Jeff and
Drew. We’ll handle this.” My mom shoos me out of the kitchen before
I can say another word.

The door shuts behind me, and I spy Drew
standing in the foyer with a huge grin on his face.