“What I got you,” Braden replied. He held up the present, but over Remy’s lap, all Lane could see was the top of the wrapped gift. “See? You’ll love it.”
Lane grinned at Remy. “Really?”
Remy widened his eyes and made a face that said otherwise. “Someone will love it, anyway,” he said with a nod at his son. Releasing Lane’s foot, he patted his lover’s leg and stood. “Let me put the rest of my stuff away. I don’t want to be the only one living out of a bag for the rest of the time here. Brae, you need to unpack, too.”
“Lane already did for me,” Braden said. He shook something else under the tree; Lane heard the crinkle of wrapping paper.
Remy said, “Stop that. Find something else to do.”
“Da-ad,” Braden whined. “Like what?”
“Like your DS,” Remy countered. “Something that doesn’t involve trying to figure out what everyone got you for Christmas.”
Braden started, “I’m not—”