Page 60 of Baking Battles

It’s hours later when they finally get back home, and Christopher falls asleep, fully dressed before there is any chance of any action. Not that Mattias could even contemplate having sex, after too many glasses of wine and the strong Glogg and more strange party foods than his delicate stomach really shouldn’t handle. He ends up tidying up the apartment, making sure the gifts for tomorrow are neatly stacked under the Christmas tree. It’s not tradition, but he knows Emi will get far too many gifts from Sara’s relatives, and it’s nice that he can let her open Christopher’s neatly wrapped parcels here, and the small flat box waiting under the tree, the tablet he bought her. He knows it’s crazy, buying a two-year-old a tablet, but whatever. He has one. She now has one, and in his own defence, there are many, very educational, apps around. And he got a discount too, he argues with himself. He has already told Sara, and she didn’t even flinch, which made him almost faint too, as her laughter rang out. “You bought our daughter an iPad? You plonker. I love it. Love it, babe.” She has giggled, fuelled by his own stupid smile.

He crawls into bed and wraps his arms around the man snoring loudly in some too-loud ridiculous Christmas-patterned shirt.

“Sleep.” The man in his arms murmurs, his voice thick with tiredness.

“You promised I could fuck you.” Mattias whispers, with no intention to get his cock anywhere near Christopher. He gets no response, anyway, as he passes out with exhaustion.

Christmas. Is chilled. Just the way he had hoped. There are too many cups of coffee drunk the next morning, over laughter and gifts, too many hugs with his daughter, and far too many presents, as Sara brings her own too. It’s surprisingly calm, almost too perfect, as Mattias finds himself pinching the skin on his arm, wondering what has happened.

Sara is laughing, and Christopher is just… Christopher. And Emi keeps running between them like she can’t decide which of the three of them she loves the most. She’s happy, and that makes Mattias all warm inside. He’s happy. They are all fucking happy and it’s almost too much for his exhausted brain to comprehend. Emi is exhausted too, by the time Sara heads off for lunch with her family, and falls asleep in the pram as Mattias and Christopher wave them goodbye.

“Are you up for this then?” Christopher says, snuggling his face into Mattias’s neck.

“Up for what?”

“Meeting my family?”

“I’m kind of terrified.” Mattias admits. “And then I will have to introduce you to my parents, who don’t even know I’m gay.”

“You haven’t told them?” Christopher sounds surprised. “Why? I mean, we should have talked about this. I’ve been too wrapped up in introducing you to my family to even ask about yours. I’m so sorry. They live by the coast? No?”

“Yeah, in a retirement complex. They’re happy, normal boring people. Mum enjoys bingo and Dad plays golf.”

“But they are nice people? I mean, they obviously raised you. They must be nice.”

“They are nice. We’re not close, just, you know. Normal. Ring once a week, kind of people.”

“Ring them.”

“Now?”

“It’s Christmas Eve, Mattias. Ring your parents and say Merry Christmas.”

“I usually ring in the evening.”

“You will be busy this evening. Come on.”

“What if I ruin their Christmas?”

“By telling your parents that you are happy?”

He supposes Christopher is right, and he still smiles hours later, sitting in the car, being driven by Christopher’s over-talkative Father, on their way up to the Pedersen-family cabin. The snow is thick on the trees and the darkness is almost overwhelming as the lights from the remote cabin light up the forest. He wishes his parents could see it, but then he can picture them in their own glass-fronted living room, with the panoramic views of the fjord, and the icicles hanging from their balcony rail. They are very content, his mother had told him. They are enjoying the simple things in life, a glass of sherry and a small meal, and watching the entertainment on TV. His father laughed out loud when Mattias told him he had met someone new. Smiled as his father laughed and said that he speaks to Sara every week too, had Mattias forgotten about that? He’s even figured out this Facetime thing Sara does, so he can see Emi on screen.

“So you know?” Mattias had blurted out, his cheeks flaming with shame. Because of course. He’s stupid. He doesn’t think. And in a way he doesn’t think he could love Sara any more than he does right now, as his mother takes over the phone and laughs gently in his ear.

“We knew, darling. Of course, we know. Sara says he is a wonderful man, and we hope you will bring him to meet us for New Year. I looked him up on the computer, and Father said he didn’t recognise him, but I’m sure I have seen him on television. He’s very famous, Sara said.”

“He’s a kind man.” Is all Mattias can think of replying with. “He’s wonderful, Mum, and I love him.”

Christmas with the Pedersens? Well, it turns out to be nothing like… chilled. Too many people rumbling around in an old-fashioned wooden cottage, where the open fire seems to threaten to burn the whole thing down, spitting embers across the handmade rustic carpets covering the wooden floorboards.

“We’ve never had a fire, yet.” Christopher’s father had boomed out, throwing another log on the fire, making the children huddling on the carpet scream with laughter, and probably a little bit of fear. Because Mr. Christopher Pedersen senior, or Rolf as he introduces himself as, is just like his son. Completely bonkers, and even Mattias has developed a healthy dose of fearful respect for the man, who hugs at random, and keeps disappearing outside for a sneaky cigarette, despite Mrs. Pedersen’s stern disapproval. Her name is Bente, and she looks just as warm and kind as her son.

“Come honey, come on in.” She had said earlier as Mattias had been shooed into the rustic kitchen, bursting with people cooking and unwrapping foods from containers. “Here, this is the tray with the food for lunch, and all the other stuff needs to go outside at the back, in the big bags hanging in the trees. We can’t leave anything on the ground, because the wildlife just eats it.”

“Remember last year? Someone left the Stilton cheese on the doorstep, and next thing we knew this fox was galloping down the road with two kilos of cheese in its mouth. Dad was fuming. He loves his Stilton.”

“I used to bring it from London.” Christopher had said, wrapping his arms around a bemused Mattias. “Dad is addicted to cheese and biscuits. Any kind of cheese. If you want to get into his good books, you buy him cheese.”

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