Page 105 of Mr. Naughty List

“New beginnings. Death of the old, birth of the new. All that jazz.”

“I thought that was New Year’s Eve.”

Aaron snorted. “I suppose. It’s something I have to do. For myself. Alone.” He took RJ’s hand from his knee and held it instead, their fingers knitting together comfortably. “No matter what happens with my mom, I’m glad we met again.”

“None of that, Mr. Danvers,” RJ said gruffly. “That sounds like a goodbye and we’ve agreed to pretend that love can last.”

Aaron laughed a little giddily. “This is crazy. We’ve barely met.”

“That’s how it always starts, right? At some point, everyone’s ‘barely met,’ but they choose to keep on meeting and it grows.” RJ squeezed Aaron’s fingers. “When a mother gives birth, she’s barely met her baby, but no one would say she doesn’t love it. What makes us different? Just because we’re grown-ups? Didn’t that Baby Jesus charge us with loving each other?”

Aaron squeezed his fingers back. “You’re a strange one, RJ Blitz.”

“You love it.”

Aaron kissed RJ’s knuckles and said solemnly, “I do.”

Still-warm casserole heatinghis hands, Aaron was sweating when he pressed the doorbell with his elbow. His smile must have been gruesome given his mother’s expression when she finally opened the door.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, lifting the casserole dish. “I made the sweet potatoes like you asked.”

His mother wore a Christmas sweater and jeans, and her hair was soft and loose around her shoulders. Her makeup was casual. Her smile, like Aaron’s, was tight and horrible. She beckoned him inside. “Did you compose the apology I requested too?”

“No, Mom, I didn’t.” Aaron walked stiffly through the living room, ignoring the tinkling piano Christmas music playing from the speakers above the TV and the Christmas tree decorated with his own handmade ornaments from childhood.

He stepped into the long, galley kitchen, inhaling his mother’s savory green bean casserole and a roasting turkey. Steeling himself, he said, “I don’t intend to apologize. Because I didn’t do anything wrong.” He put the sweet potatoes on the counter and turned around.

His mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her flat chest, eyes narrowed ominously. “I can’t believe you’re going to ruin Christmas over this, Aaron.”

He took a careful breath. “Let’s go into the living room. I have a few things I need to say.”

Rolling her eyes, she moved into his space, crowding him against the counter. “There’s a lot still to do in the kitchen. I don’t have time for this nonsense. Apologize and let’s get on with it.”

“No,” Aaron said firmly, though his voice quivered with emotion. “I’ve met someone I care about, Mom.”

She lifted a brow but said nothing.

“His name is RJ Blitz. And he was my student once. But he’s a grown man now and I like him a lot. I might even love him.”

She scoffed. “Love.”

“Yes. Love. It’s not without complications and it’s not perfect, but when is it ever?”

“Aaron.” She shook her head warningly. “You know and I know that you’re talking about infatuation. Lust, not love.”

“Mom, please. Just hear me out.”

“Fine.” She turned her back on him and stalked into the living room. Aaron followed her. She swept her hand toward the sofa, and Aaron took a seat. She stood over him.

“Sit down, Mom.”

“How long will this take?”

“As long as it takes.”

She glanced at her watch. “I have things to do in the kitchen. This can wait. We’ll discuss it over lunch.”

“No, I don’t want to fight while I’m eating. Let’s just get it done now so we can enjoy our meal.”