My Holiday Reunion: A Second Chance Holiday Romance

by Weston Parker

  I laughed as I ruffled his hair and passed him on my way out of the kitchen. “Mint and citrus don’t mix well, kiddo.”

  Asher licked his lips to try to get rid of the taste.

  “You have to drink more if you want it to go away,” I said.

  Asher drank more. He struggled until the sweet citrus chased away the lingering toothpaste on his tongue, and then he nodded approvingly. “Better. Thanks, Dad.”

  “You’re welcome. Now, I have to get out of here. I’m running behind. You be good to Grandpa, okay? Don’t give him a hard time.”

  “He never does,” my father said as he leaned on the kitchen counter.

  Asher beamed up at me. “I’ll be good.”

  I crouched down and balanced on the balls of my feet to hug my son. I gave him a good squeeze as his little hands held the back of my neck. “Love you, kiddo.”

  “Love you too, Dad.”

  I stood up, and Asher bolted back into the kitchen. My father nodded at me, his way of saying goodbye, and followed his grandson into the kitchen. Their voices followed me down the hall to the front door as my father began the process of deciding what to eat: toast or cereal.

  I grabbed my jacket from its home on the hook by the door and slipped my arm through. As I fixed my collar, my eyes drifted to the same place they did every morning. The table with the key bowl and a picture frame of my family.

  Before it all fell apart.

  Before it was just me and Asher.

  I sighed and picked up the frame. I pressed my thumb to her face. Beautiful. In the picture, she had her hands wrapped around my arm. We were sitting on a blanket in one of those gray, sterile, boring photography studios because my wife had insisted on us getting a family portrait. Asher was only ten months old in the picture. He was sitting propped up in her lap, bawling his eyes out. His face was bright red, his mouth was wide open, and his two bottom teeth had started coming in and were on display for the photographer. She was smiling up at me.

  My eyes were closed.

  It was a real, true, disaster of a mess. But it was my family when we were whole and when we were all together.

  I ran my thumb over her face. “He likes strawberry jam on his toast now, babe. He’s becoming more and more like you every day.”

  4

  Lina

  Joseph Rickman, Joe for short, had an office the size of my living room and a beer belly that could rival all dad-bods this side of North America. His gut protruded over his belt the same way his moustache did over his lips. He wasn’t a particularly attractive man, but he was a sharp dresser, and that lent him the appearance of importance.

  And he was important. He was and had been my agent for the last four years.

  Joe motioned for me to take a seat in the high-back green velvet chair across his desk from him. I sat, crossed one leg over the other, and lifted my chin to make sure my posture was exceptional.

  “Your week is pretty booked, Lina, but this is good. Business is picking up for you. All the powerhouses are recognizing your beauty, and a shoot like the one today is going to turn heads. Trust me. I think this might be your breakthrough, baby.”

  Joe had been calling me “baby” since the first time I stepped into this office, wide eyed, full of wonder and excitement, and completely naive to what the world of modeling would actually be like.

  Lonely. Materialistic. Unfulfilling.

  I rubbed my hands down my thighs. “Do you think there’s room in the schedule to take some time away? I’d like to have a couple days off around Christmas.”

  “Baby, rest is for people who don’t succeed. And you want to succeed in this business, don’t you?”

  “Of course, but—”

  “Then you have to keep that hustle going,” he said. “I believe in you, but people won’t know who you are unless you constantly show up on magazines and billboards and cover photos. These promotional ads are doing wonders for your popularity. If you back off now, you’re stepping aside to let some other girl steal your spotlight. Is that what you want?”

  I shook my head. “No, but I didn’t think taking a few days off over the holidays was asking so much.”

  “Everyone takes time off over the holidays. That’s your chance to get the jump on them.”

  I bit the inside of my cheek. “How much time are you taking off, Joe?”

  He blinked at me but said nothing.

  “A week? Ten days?”

  He held up his hands defensively. “I’m not the model, Lina. You are. I pull the strings. Book the shoots. Put you in front of the right people. I don’t have to work twenty-four seven to remain relevant.”

  Everything he was saying made perfect logical sense, but it still sucked. All I wanted was some time to myself where I didn’t have to wear the world’s tightest dress or most uncomfortable shoes. I could just be me, wrapped up under a warm blanket with a cup of coffee, reading a good book in front of my fireplace.

  But that would have to wait. Maybe next year.

  Joe sighed and leaned back in his chair, which creaked beneath his weight. “Is this not what you want to do anymore, Lina?”

  “I’m not saying that.”

  He shrugged. “It sounds to me like you’re experiencing some doubt. That’s normal. We can talk about it.”

  I felt my shoulders drawing inward a bit and forced myself to sit up straight once more. “I just sometimes wonder if I’m meant to do this. I mean, I have a degree in mass communications that I never used. All because some guy outside the campus library handed me a business card and invited me to an audition.”

  He nodded. “Some would call that fate.”

  I sighed. “Some would call it idiocy.”

  Joe gave me a crooked smile. “Idiocy would be ignoring all the beauty you have, Lina. For God’s sake, look at you. You’re making an incredible salary because you’re a professional. Because you’re easy to work with and well liked by everyone you meet in this industry. Why not take advantage of your looks now to rake in that money? Beauty fades. You can get into communications later.”

  Again, everything he was saying made logical sense, but that didn’t mean it sat right with me.

  I sighed. “Okay. I hear you, Joe.”

  “Good girl. Here’s your headshots to leave with the clients you’re working with this week. Charm their pants off, baby. You’ve got this.”

  I forced a smile. “Thanks.”

  I arrived on set for my shoot an hour before I was supposed to be there. The photographer was nowhere in sight and would likely be the last person to show up, but the whole crew was there, and as soon as my heels hit the pavement outside the warehouse building, two young women rushed out to greet me. They had headsets on, and one of them spoke into hers while the other greeted me.

  “Miss Nelson, it’s so nice to meet you. Come this way. We’ll get you into hair and makeup. Do you need anything? Water? Green tea? Kombucha?”

  I straightened and adjusted the shoulder strap of my purse. “Hi. Water is fine.”

  “Great,” she said. Then she spoke into her headset. “James? We need a bottle of water at Miss Nelson’s chair. Yes. Now please.”

  I smiled as she motioned for me to follow her into the warehouse.

  I was bombarded with smiling faces and waves. Everyone seemed to know who I was, which was a surreal, wonderful, and very strange feeling. It was what I’d been chasing for ages. Joe promised me that with hard work, I would get what I wanted. Apparently, my looks did most of the heavy lifting for me. My easygoing nature and good work ethic did the rest.

  My name was written on a black cotton chair, front and back. The girl guiding me was talking into her headset again as she gestured for me to sit. As soon as my bottom hit the chair, a young guy with a mop of blond hair skidded to a stop in front of me and held out a bottle of water. He was out of breath and looked a little dazed. “Sorry it took me so long, Miss Nelson.”

  “I just sat down.”

  “I know,” he said bre
athlessly.

  I unscrewed the cap and took a sip. “Don’t be sorry. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Do you need anything else?”

  “No, I’m all right. Thank you, though.”

  The kid, who the girl on the headset had called James, tipped his head to me. Then his eyes widened a little bit as he looked over my shoulder. “I have to go, Miss Nelson. Have a good shoot!”

  He hurried off before I had the chance to say anything. Seconds later, a man stepped around my chair. He was dressed in a black zip-up sweatshirt, black jeans, and a black baseball cap. His eyes were beady and his stare sharp as he looked me up and down from the very tip of my peep toe red pumps to the top of my head. “Lina, it’s nice to meet you in the flesh. You’re even more beautiful in person than in photographs.”

  I slapped on my best charming, fake smile and shook the hand he extended to me. “It’s nice to meet you too. Samuel, I assume?”

  Samuel, the photographer for today’s shoot, nodded. “That it is. I’m looking forward to getting some shots of you today.”

  “It’s a shame I look better in person.”

  Samuel chuckled. I wasn’t trying to be funny. “You’re witty. I like that.”

  I bet you do. “I try. It was nice meeting you, Samuel. I’m just about to go in for hair and makeup. Then I’ll see you out on the set.”

  “Are you trying to get rid of me, Lina?”

  I gave him my sweetest smile. “Of course not. I just assumed hair and makeup would bore you.”

  Samuel pulled over a chair and sat down beside me. He was a decent-looking guy with a prominent jaw and a flirty smile. “I’ve wanted to meet you for a long time. I’m not going to be that easy to get rid of.”

  I shrugged. “That’s all right.”

  “I can’t wait to see you when you come out of hair and wardrobe. The shoot’s outfit is going to look spectacular on you.” He kissed his fingertips before fanning them open. “Magnificent.”

  “Thank you.”

  “When we’re all wrapped up here, I’m going to take you out for a couple drinks. We can get to know each other better, and I can let you in on the behind the scenes scoop of being in this industry. Give you a leg up on your competition.”

  “Oh,” I said. There wasn’t any other word or sound that came to mind. Just “oh”. He hadn’t asked me out. He’d told me that I was going out with him. If I’d had hackles, they’d be raised. “You know, I appreciate your offer, Samuel, but this isn’t a good time for me. I’m going from shoot to shoot and have never been this busy before. I need to take care of myself, and alcohol isn’t really an option. Neither are dates. I have to be strict.”

  Samuel waved his hand dismissively. “One night won’t hurt you. Come on. Don’t play hard to get.”

  I forced the smile to remain on my face, even though I wanted to glare at him. “I am not playing hard to get.”

  Samuel chuckled. “Well, that’s what I would call it. Just two drinks. Hell, you could order soda water if you want to.”

  I sighed. The guy wasn’t taking no for an answer. I cupped my chin in my hands and looked him up and down. He fluffed his feathers like a peacock and clenched his jaw in that way actors do in the movies to look more masculine. I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “So you’re after a date, then?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “What do you think you have to offer me?”

  Samuel cocked his head to the side. “What?”

  “What do you have to offer me? Clearly, you want a date with me for your own selfish reasons. What benefit is there for me to go out with you?” I batted my eyelashes, daring him to say something else demeaning and ignorant. “I’m just curious.”

  “I’d be doing you a favor.”

  I smiled. “By gracing me with your presence, I presume?”

  “I have tips and tricks you can use to climb the ladder.”

  “I have an agent for that.”

  Samuel’s eyes narrowed. “I can assure you that this is not a conversation your agent would recommend you have, Lina. This could be damaging to your career, in and of itself.”

  I shrugged. “And going on a date would be damaging to my morals. Thanks, but no thanks, Samuel. I’ll see you on set in forty-five minutes. Hopefully, with all that talent of yours, you can make me look as good in photographs as I apparently do in person.”

  Asshole.

  5

  Callum

  I had just draped my suit jacket over the back of my chair when there was a knock on my office door.

  “Come in,” I called.

  The door opened, and my boss, Frank Burgess, stepped inside and let the door fall closed behind him. “Good afternoon, Cal.”

  “Afternoon.” I nodded in greeting.

  Frank gestured at one of the chairs across from mine at my desk. “Mind if I sit for a moment?”

  “Be my guest,” I said.

  He took his seat, and I settled in behind my desk. The suit he was wearing today was light gray, and he’d paired it with a pale blue tie. His white hair and moustache gave him the look of a very important, very sophisticated man. From experience, I knew both characteristics were true. He was a good boss and a smart man.

  “I was happy to hear you won in court this morning. I didn’t think there was a chance you’d pull it off.”

  “Thank you for the vote of confidence,” I mused.

  Frank stroked his beard. “I’m not criticizing. It was a compliment.”

  I grinned. “I know.”

  “Cocky bastard.”

  Frank and I both chuckled, and I stood up to walk over to my liquor cabinet. I poured us each an inch of sipping whiskey and handed one to my boss. “I wasn’t so sure I’d be able to swing it, but I saw the cracks in the foundation and went for it.”

  He nodded. “Your client was lucky to have you behind him.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Not to mention the jury finds you likeable, for whatever reason.”

  I shrugged. “It’s the charm and the good looks.”

  “And how humble you are, naturally,” Frank said. The corners of his eyes crinkled with a smile.

  “Naturally.”

  Frank took a sip of whiskey and swirled the remainder around in his glass. Then he rested the base of the glass on his armrest and looked up at me. “I hear you’re running for office here in Pittsburgh.”

  “You heard right.”

  “I was surprised to hear that,” he said. “But after thinking about it, I found that it makes sense. I can picture it clear as day. You’d be a good man to have in office, Cal.”

  I shrugged. “If I’m being honest, I made this move so I would have more time to spend at home with Asher. My cases have been stacking up lately, and I have this nagging feeling that I’m missing out on important things that I’ll never be able to get back. A change of pace will help with that.”

  “You think you’ll be less busy in the office than in the courtroom?” Frank chuckled, bemused. He shook his head at me. “You’re delusional, son.”

  “I think I’ll have more control over where I delegate my time.”

  He nodded thoughtfully. “Perhaps. But a man like you? With convictions and morals and an uncanny ability to draw the line between what’s right and what’s wrong? You’ll be knee deep in the swamps of politics trying to make everything better for this city. If anything, you’ll spend more time at work.”

  “Are you just trying to talk me out of it so I spend more time at the firm?”

  Frank sipped his whiskey and smacked his lips. “Am I that transparent?”

  “To a lawyer?” I asked, smiling. “Yes.”

  Frank shook his head at me, but he was still smiling too. He and I had a good relationship. I’d been working with him since I graduated from Harvard Law School, and we’d become fast friends, rather than boss and employee. Sometimes, on rare occasions, Frank would even come to my place for dinner.

  Frank stood up and drained
the rest of his whiskey glass. He put it down on the corner of my desk and popped open his suit jacket buttons, letting it hang open, exposing the matching gray vest underneath. “If you wanted to take some time off work, now is the time.”

  I glanced at him and shook my head.

  “Cal, you and I both know you could do with a break. You haven’t taken a vacation day in three years. If you’re running for office, you must be stretched thin. Take some time. Spend it with your boy and that father of yours. The firm won’t fall apart without you.”

  “I can’t just take time off, Frank.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m a single father on a single income supporting my son and father. It’s not that simple. I want to make sure they have everything they need.”

  Frank arched an eyebrow. “They have you, don’t they? Everything else is just icing on the cake.”

  “Nice pep talk.”

  Frank moved toward the door. “Not nice enough, apparently. It didn’t work. Just think about it, Cal. All you have to do is say the word, and I’ll make sure your cases are picked up and you’re not assigned to new ones. The holidays are around the corner. There’s no better time than now.”

  “I’m good, Frank. Thank you.”

  “Just think about it,” he said again before opening the door and slipping out into the hallway. He closed the door behind him, and I ran my fingers through my hair as I leaned back in my chair. It dipped back, the frame creaking as I used my foot to rock myself back and forth.

  What on earth would I do with time off?

  I ran my thumb along my jaw as I considered the possibilities. Asher would probably be thrilled. I’d be able to take him to Christmas events around the city. Maybe to a parade like my father used to take me to. We could go ice skating. Maybe get a real Christmas tree. Go for a walk sipping hot cocoa while looking at the lights on the neighbors’ houses.

  My cell phone buzzed in my pocket. I fished it out and blinked at the name that flashed across the screen: David. My best buddy from high school. We hadn’t connected in months. Life had a way of getting busy and putting distance between friendships.