Page 11 of Final Breakaway (For Puck’s Sake #11)

CHAPTER 11

ETNA

The house is enormous. I tap in the code, then hit the star. The lockbox opens and I pull out the key to let us in. We step inside and flick on the lights.

The place takes my breath away.

“Wow,” Keno says. “This is…”

I nod. Yep. The entire front of the house is open to the second floor, with windows covering it. There’s a ten- or twelve-foot tree, lit up and lightly decorated. There’s fresh green garland nestled on the highest windowsills. And icicle lights outlining the peak of the house in the front that reflect on the inside, twinkling merrily.

The furniture is large, plush, and comfortable. The kitchen is expensive and just about gourmet. The table can seat twelve easily.

There’s a hall opposite the tree leading to the bedrooms and a set of stairs just inside the door that goes up to a loft. There are three bedrooms downstairs and then the loft space. If I remember correctly, the primary bedroom has a king-size bed. Then the two bedrooms have queen beds. And the upstairs loft area has a bunk bed and two more beds—a twin and a double.

The basement has endless fun with a game room and shit, too.

“I don’t think a mini vacation is going to be enough time to appreciate this house,” Keno says.

I shake my head in agreement. “It’s not. Let’s get the stuff inside so we can keep the cool in.”

We had a last-minute change in plans for Christmas. It left us both with a sour feeling, knowing we were going to be telling our families that we’re getting married and not being together to do it. Our first option was to spend Christmas Eve and Christmas morning with one family and then Christmas night and the morning after with the other.

But with one family being in the Southeast and the other in the Northwest, we’d realistically spend most of our days traveling.

The next option was to bring both of our families to us. We chose to rent a house because we’re in the middle of packing up mine. After another talk with our realtor, we’re keeping Keno’s for now and listing mine, but we’re going to keep it unofficial until after the holiday when people are starting to get back to their lives.

That means one house is too small to host, and one house is already filled with packing material that would raise a lot of questions before we’re ready to make the announcement.

Several boxes and a suitcase later, we’re shut back inside the house.

“Should we take the big room? I think that’s totally going to give it away,” Keno says.

I join him in the hall. All the doors except the one leading to the basement are open. Three on the right and two on the left. “Yes, we’re taking the big room. We’ll shut the doors and tell them they can have one of the open doors. Hopefully, we’ll get to our announcement before bed.”

“It needs to be before bed,” Keno says. “I don’t have anxiety and I’m fucking anxious right now.”

I wrap my arm around his waist and pull him close, kissing the side of his head. He sighs. “They’re going to be happy.”

Keno knows that. He’s been assured of it this entire time. But I understand what he’s saying. My stomach hasn’t settled since we told our families we’re flying them to us. And yes, we have a reason.

I take the suitcase and one of the small boxes of gifts and bring them into the bedroom, shutting the door with our stuff inside.

“Divide and conquer,” Keno says. “We’re good at that.”

Chuckling, I nod. We already split the responsibilities we were going to be doing once we got here. Keno was unpacking the presents and adding some of our personal decorations to the house. Everything is so last minute since we only decided to do the marriage thing two weeks ago.

That means we don’t have any holiday things together. I’m trying not to dwell on that too much. I feel like maybe we should have put more time and energy into getting something to signify our first Christmas together as a couple.

Wow, that’s weird even thinking it.

We’ve covered the entire island in grocery bags, so I spend the first few minutes taking everything out and putting it away while leaving things I’m working on for tonight out. Mostly. I’m sure I’m going to be looking for shit the entire time we’re here.

“We decided on roasts tonight, right?” I ask.

“Yes,” Keno calls from down the hall. He once told me it was his family’s tradition that they hide stockings for each other to find. So, on our way up to the house, we stopped and picked up seven stockings and enough goodies to fill them all with the promise we’ll do better for each other next year.

When we have more time to plan.

After I turn on the oven to preheat, I find a couple of roasting pans and the box of roasting bags I bought. The meat goes in first—one roast per bag. Then I start on the vegetables. Five pounds of potatoes, quartered. Half per bag. Five pounds of carrots, chunked, half per bag. Fresh green beans and a bunch of mushrooms. Then goes the packets of seasoning and a cup of water before tying each bag up.

Excellent. A gourmet meal in five minutes.

Once they’re in the oven and the timer is set, I get to chopping smoked sausages, pepperoni, and salami for our charcuterie board. Five different cheeses, a couple spreads, a couple jams, four different crackers, and some fruit and berries. Oh, and some prosciutto.

It looks so gourmet that I take a picture and post it online. Prepping for family and some big news.

I contemplate tagging Keno. On the one hand, I tag him all the time since we’re always together. On the other, I think the ‘ big news ’ could get people talking before we’re ready. Besides, last year we both went home for Christmas. Separately and shit.

I set the snack tray on the table and haul all the dishes to the sink to do the first round of washing. I’m not the cleanest cook, when I cook at all. Keno tends to do the cooking in our relationship.

My hands are deep in soapy water when Keno’s hands touch my hips. I freeze so I don’t accidentally slice my hand with an errant knife as his arms circle my waist. His body presses to mine and he kisses the back of my shoulder.

“Not gonna lie. I could definitely get used to this,” I admit quietly.

I feel him smile against my shoulder.

“I think I’m finished. Unless you want me to stuff the stockings now.”

Leaning into him a little more, I shake my head. “We can do it together when everyone goes to bed.”

He sighs. “I’m nervous.”

“I know you are. Want to help me with the pies?”

“I can’t believe you volunteered to cook,” he says as he pulls away from me. I’m immediately missing his touch.

“I’m nervous too,” I admit. “This keeps me focused on something that takes a bit of concentration. That reminds me, we’re having brownies for dessert. We should start on those before the pies.”

Our plan is to get as much prep for tomorrow night’s meal out of the way tonight. That way, we can enjoy Christmas Day, since it’s our only full day with our families. I imagine they’re going to have a lot of questions.

Just as I finish washing the first load of dishes, there’s a knock on the door. Keno and I meet each other’s eyes. This is it. This is the moment.

Since my hands are still wet, Keno heads for the door and opens it. “Mom,” he greets, and I lean over the counter to see him hug his mother. She’s so short. Ha! I wouldn’t have guessed. His father is super tall, which must be where Keno gets it from.

They have two big suitcases that Keno helps his father bring inside and then pulls them through the living room to the kitchen, ignoring the way his mother is admiring the tree and the area.

“This is Etna,” Keno introduces, and I have both parents’ attention. “My mom, Luciana, and dad, Francis.”

“Hi,” I say, reaching my hand for theirs. “We’re really glad you could make it on such short notice.”

“It’s not often that we get to see our son,” Luciana says. “We take the time we can get.”

“You’re here first,” Keno tells them. “You can have either of the rooms on the left; the doors are open.” He peeks down the hall to make sure.

“Thank you,” Luciana says, pulling Keno down again to kiss his cheek. “Help me with this one. Dad will bring our clothes to the room.”

Keno brings the bigger suitcase into the living room, still in my view, as I pick up where Keno left off with the brownies. He sets it on the couch and helps her open it, revealing tons of presents that she begins fussing over. Fixing the wrapping and bows and setting them under the tree.

The next knock on the door can only be my parents. I wipe my hands as I move toward it, but Keno is already there, opening it. I’m halfway across the room when he steps aside to let my family in.

Seeing them, feeling the way my smile splits my face, I realize just how long it’s been since I’ve visited.

“Hi, baby,” Mom coos when she sees me.

But then Edna’s inside and she runs into my arms like when we were kids on the playground. I hug her tightly. There’s nothing like the feeling of my twin’s heart beside mine. As if they remember sharing a womb. I swear, as soon as they get close, our heartbeats sync.

“Missed you, Eddy,” I murmur.

“Missed you too, you big dumb hockey player.”

I grin, closing my eyes as I hold her for another minute. Eventually, I set her down. Keno’s standing with his mother, her arm around his waist, as his father stands in the hall entrance. My family and I are taking up the middle of the room between the four of us and their luggage.

“Sorry,” I say. “This is my twin, Edna. My mom, Melany, and my dad, Roger. This is Keno, his mom, Luciana, and his dad, Francis.”

There’s chaos as the parents exchange handshakes and hellos, and ask about how their travel went. The weather where they came from. Etc. Etc.

Keno, Edna, and I head back toward the kitchen, escaping the parental chatter. Keno returns to the brownies and I start on the pies while my sister leans against the counter.

I nod toward the table. “Hungry?”

“Ugh. I’m starving. Thanks.” She grabs a little plate from next to the charcuterie board and fills it with a mixture of the contents. Then she returns to leaning on the island. Her gaze remains on Keno primarily. I’m sure she’s trying to figure out what this is about. Why we asked both of our families here.

I admit, it’s a little strange.

The buzzer fills the room, making us all jump as Keno and I spin toward the stove and try to figure out how to turn it off. I eventually hit the right button and silence follows.

“Sorry,” I say. “New stove.”

“You’re cooking?” my mom asks as I open the oven.

Oh yeah. Those look good. “I can cook just fine, Ma. I just choose not to. There are about a hundred-thousand things I’d rather do than cook most days.”

“Why’re you cooking tonight?” Edna asks.

As if that fucker doesn’t know. “For fun,” I deadpan as I set the second roast on the stove. I look between them as Keno shuts the oven door. “Did I make enough food?”

Keno laughs. “Those are two five-pound roasts, Etna.”

“Yeah, but we can eat one between the two of us.”

“Then we’ll have to share,” he says, grinning. He gently pushes me out of the way to adjust the temperature of the oven before putting in the tray of brownies. Then he turns. “Okay, let’s eat.”

I help my parents into the last guest room and Edna upstairs to the loft while Keno finishes setting up for dinner. When we get back—my family also brought extra luggage with presents that we leave in the living room for now—Keno has the roasts sliced, the veggies in a big bowl, and the juice drippings in a gravy boat.

We gather around the table, and I gotta say, I don’t hate this at all. I love seeing our families chat. We three offspring mostly sit and listen. Keno and I exchange smiles every now and then. I’m sure he’s just as relieved as I am that they get along without issue.

After dinner, Mom and Edna unpack the extra suitcases of presents to set around the tree and I have to say, there’s a lot. I’m actually impressed. I can only imagine what it’s going to look like when we have kids.

The thought makes me look at Keno. We haven’t talked about that far in the future yet. We should, but we haven’t. I’m confident we’ll have kids because we’ve always talked about how our kids would grow up besties.

But for now….

Keno meets my eyes. I can see the question there. Is it time? I nod.

“Okay,” I say as we’re gathered around with the crumbs of our brownies. “We have something to tell you.”

“I want to guess,” Edna cuts in. I raise a brow and gesture for her to go ahead. “You both knocked up the same girl.”

Keno’s parents look at her with wide eyes. My mother slaps her arm. “Edna!” she hisses.

“Oh, come on. How can you not have thought that? I keep waiting for some girl to walk out of the walls or something.”

“No,” I say firmly. “There’s no girl. Anywhere. Ever.”

“Right,” Edna deadpans, giving me a dubious look of disbelief.

“Okay,” Keno says, drawing out the word. “Uh…” He looks at me and I nod. I’ll do it. I can see the nerves and feel the way his hand is shaking, pressed between our legs.

“I know this is kind of strange that we asked you guys to come here without telling you why. We planned to do this when we each went home, but it felt… not quite like the right way to start off. This felt better.” I look at my parents and then Edna. I’m still looking at her when I say, “We’re getting married.”

Absolute silence fills the room at my words. Five sets of eyes stare at us.

“To whom?” Keno’s mother asks.

“To each other,” Keno answers.

“Oh,” both moms say together.