All I Want for Christmas: a funny and sexy festive novella

by Keris Stainton

‘You should carry her,’ someone says. It's a man, but it's not Joe.

  I open one eye. And then I remember that we're in the garage with Joe's brothers and sister.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Joe asks me.

  ‘As long as you're not planning to carry me,’ I mumble.

  ‘It would be like An Officer and a Gentleman!’ Alex says. ‘Imagine Dad's face.’

  Joe grins.

  ‘You're still not doing it,’ I say. ‘Sorry I fell asleep. Too much wine.’

  ‘No such thing,’ Jess says. She's lying on the floor with her feet up on a pile of magazines.

  ‘We're waiting till everyone else's gone before we go back in,’ Matt says.

  ‘I'm waiting till Mum and Dad have gone to bed, actually,’ Joe says.

  Jess makes clucking noises.

  ‘Are you really going to stay?’ Alex asks.

  Joe looks at me. ‘I haven't... decided yet. Maybe?’

  ‘You're not going to join the business though, right?’ Matt says.

  Joe shrugs. ‘It'd be easier.’

  ‘No,’ I say. I didn't even mean to, it just came out.

  ‘No?’ Joe says.

  ‘No, you can't join the business.’

  Joe frowns. I pick up a glass of wine and drain it.

  ‘Hey!’ Jess says. ‘That was mine.’

  ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘But Joe, you can't join the business! Since I met you you've told me over and over that you don't want to do it. So you can't do it.’

  Joe blows out a breath. ‘If I don't join the business I don't know what else I want to do.’

  ‘Yes you do,’ I say. I cover my mouth to burp. Shouldn't have had Jess's wine. ‘You want to travel. And work for charities. Cos you're perfect.’

  Joe grins. ‘I love that you think I'm perfect.’

  ‘Not like that,’ I say. I feel my cheeks getting hot and I put the glass up to my face to try to cool them down. ‘I just mean... God, you're gorgeous and sexy and everything. And you've been travelling. And doing... good deeds! Men like you don't exist.’

  ‘Amen to that,’ Jess says from the floor.

  ‘When you put it like that he does sound perfect,’ Alex says. ‘But you just don't know him well enough.’

  ‘Thank you!’ I say. ‘I know!’

  Joe says, ‘Hey!’

  ‘He went travelling cos he couldn't deal with Dad,’ Matt says. ‘Not because he wanted to be, like, a philanthropist or something. He was just running away.’

  I nod. ‘But he was running away from something, right? The business. So why stop running? Why come back and do the thing you've been running from?’

  Joe strokes my arm and I shiver. ‘Because I met you?’

  ‘Oh my God!’ Jess says.

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘This was supposed to be a fling.’

  ‘Was it?’ Joe says.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Alex says.

  ‘I didn't mean to say that. I mean... I thought you were safe cos you were only here for Christmas, you know?’

  Joe stares at me. Those eyes. ‘I didn't know, no.’

  ‘I'm sorry. I just... I'm not ready...’

  For once, when I could really do with them chiming in, Joe's siblings are quiet.

  ‘You don't have to go,’ Joe says. ‘You can go in the morning.’

  I check my phone again, in case the taxi firm has texted or rung. Nothing.

  ‘Seriously, Ella. Stay.’

  I look at Joe, his breath hanging in the air like clouds.

  ‘I need to go. I'm really sorry. I shouldn't have come in the first place.’

  ‘Don't say that.’ He grabs my hand and slides his fingers between mine. ‘I've had such a good time. My family loved you.’

  ‘They're really great,’ I say, smiling. I want to kiss his fingers. Actually I want to do more than kiss them. I want to feel them inside me. My legs wobble. I check my phone again.

  ‘Don't go because you're scared,’ Joe says.

  ‘I'm not scared,’ I lie.

  Chapter 11

  ‘You're an idiot,’ Amy whispers. She's sitting next to me on the stage, both of us staring straight ahead.

  ‘I'm not an idiot,’ I whisper back. ‘I just know my limitations.’

  ‘You're scared.’

  ‘Of course I'm scared.’

  I don't know why I ever thought it was a good idea to go to Joe's for Christmas. Any fool could see it wasn't going to work. It's too soon. My parents just died. Of course it's going to take much longer for me to get back to any sort of normal life. I can't just throw myself into it. The grieving process is a process for a reason. I just need to resign myself to not moving on for at least another year. It's fine. Things could be worse. I've got a job, friends, somewhere to live. That's all I need.

  A roomful of students at the university I used to go to, the university I quit, stare up at me. Some look intrigued, some mocking, some look straight back down at their phones.

  The film starts on the screen behind us and I look at the monitor for my line.

  ‘Okay, then listen,’ Amy says, as Thelma. ‘Let's not get caught.’

  ‘What you talking about?’ I say, as Louise.

  ‘Let's keep going…’

  And then we drive right off the cliff.

  ‘What are you afraid will happen?’ Amy asks me. We've finished our scene and we're sitting, as usual, at the bar. A customer is up on stage doing Miranda’s sweater monologue from The Devil Wears Prada.

  I shake my head. ‘It's just too soon. I can't ask him to give up travelling for me. We've only known each other a couple of weeks. And I really don't want him to take that job with his dad.’

  ‘But it's his decision, not yours. If he wants to take the risk, that's up to him. And if it doesn't work out, that's up to him too.’

  I sigh. ‘It was supposed to be a fling.’

  ‘And me and Lee were supposed to be a shag. But then feelings happened.’

  ‘Fucking feelings,’ I say.

  ‘Yes. Those too,’ Amy says, smiling. ‘Think about it. If Joe goes away again – if you never see him again – are you okay with that?’

  The thought makes my stomach churn. But even that's annoying. Two weeks I've known him. ‘I was fine before I met him, I'll be fine if I never see him again.’

  ‘That's such bullshit and you know it.’

  ‘Amy... why can't you accept that I'm just not ready?’

  ‘Because if you carry on like this, you'll never be ready.’

  She reaches over and grabs my hand. ‘Listen. A terrible thing happened. The worst. I know. I can't even imagine what you've been through, what you're still going through. But you said you wanted to change your life and then you got stuck. I think you need to move again.’

  I can feel the tears building up in my throat. I squeeze Amy's fingers and shake my head.

  ‘What would your parents tell you to do?’ Amy says.

  I blow out my breath. ‘That is so not fair.’ My throat's almost too tight to speak.

  ‘I know,’ she says. ‘I'm sorry.’

  I stand in the bathroom and try to repair the mess I've made of my face. My parents would be furious with me, I know. Amy's right, the cow. I run my hands under the cold water and then press the heels of my palms to my eyes. They would be annoyed that I haven't touched any of their money. They'd be disappointed that I've made my life so much smaller in such a short time. And they'd be really pissed off to know that I haven't even scattered their ashes. Or collected them, in fact – they're still at the undertakers. They always said they wanted me to have a big life. They encouraged me to do things outside my comfort zone. They would tell me to leap and to worry about the future in the future.

  I try to fix my make-up, but my hands are shaking and I only succeed in stabbing myself in the eye with my mascara wand. I ask Patrick if I can go home – I tell him I think I've got a stomach bug and, ever mindful of the clients, he waves me off – and I head out into the snow.

  It's falling in b
ig fat flakes as I walk up Piccadilly. I tip my head back and let them cool my face, blinking them out of my eyes. Could I actually be with Joe? Could I try for more than a fling? My stomach flutters at the thought.

  Could I leave my job? Move out of the flat? Particularly now Amy and Lee are together. Could I go travelling with Joe? Maybe I could sprinkle my parents' ashes on that sand island he told me about. I think they would have liked that. I wipe the tears from my face and start to run towards home, skidding slightly in the slush.

  I want to phone him and ask him if he'll forgive me, if he'll let me try again, but I want to do it from home, where I'm happy, where I feel secure. At the corner of Oldham Street I almost run into a man dressed as Father Christmas, knocking his sleigh bells out of his hand. He steadies me and says, ‘Careful, love. You don't want to fall.’

  I don't. I really don't. But I think maybe I should take the chance.

  As soon as I turn the corner, I see Joe. He's sitting on the wall next to my building.

  He's wearing his big black coat with the collar pulled up against the snow and flakes have settled in his hair. When he sees me, his face breaks into a grin. As I walk up to him, my stomach flips and all I want is to climb inside his coat and put my cold hands under his clothes. I step between his legs and drop my forehead against his.

  ‘Ho ho ho,’ he says and holds a mistletoe branch over our heads.

  I kiss him.

  ‘I'm sorry,’ I murmur against his mouth.

  He pulls back and stares at me. ‘My dad was right about me.’

  ‘No –’ I start to say, but he shakes his head.

  ‘That dinner I bottled out of? When I cancelled the date with you? He... have I told you what his company does? They make educational software. And he's been talking to charities about taking it to developing countries. And they need someone to help implement it. To guide them through it.’

  ‘You could do both?’ I say. ‘You could work for your dad and still travel?’

  ‘Looks like it,’ he says.

  ‘Wow.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘That's a fantastic opportunity,’ I say. And I kiss him.

  ‘It will be a lot of travelling. But I'll be home a lot too.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say. ‘That sounds good.’

  ‘Ella...’ He tips his head back and looks up at the sky, heavy with snow. ‘In the past, whenever things have got hard, I ran away. But I want you to know that I'm not going to run away from you.’

  I nod. I rest my forehead against his. ‘I'm not going to run away from you either.’

  I kiss him, pressing myself up against him, but I can't get close enough. I need to take his clothes off. I need to take my clothes off. I want to stop thinking about everything but him and me and here and now.

  He turns his head, deepening the kiss and cups the back of my head with his hand. I shiver, but it's not because of the cold.

  I step back and take Joe's hands, pulling him to his feet.

  ‘Get a room,’ says Father Christmas.

  THE END

  A NOTE FROM KERIS

  Thank you so much for reading All I Want for Christmas. I had a lot of fun writing it and I hope you enjoyed reading it. If you did, I would be so grateful if you could write a review. I’d love to hear what you think.

  If you want to stay updated with my latest releases, you can subscribe to my newsletter. Your email address will never be shared and you can unsubscribe at any time. Otherwise you can find me on Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Goodreads and Bookbub.

  Thanks,

  Keris x

  www.keris-stainton.com

  MORE BOOKS BY KERIS STAINTON

  If You Could See Me Now

  It Had To Be You

  The Invitation

  The One Who’s Not the One

  The Bad Mothers’ Book Club

  Baby, One More Time

  CHAPTER 1

  ‘This is going to sound weird, sorry,’ the woman says.

  I look up from the book I'm holding. I see she's blushing a bit. I smile at her, encouragingly.

  ‘There's a man over there who's been staring at you for a while,’ she says. ‘Don't look!’

  My gaze had already skittered across the shop, but I manage to drag it back to her face.

  ‘I don't know if you know him or...’ she says. ‘I just thought I should maybe let you know, in case...’

  ‘Thank you,’ I tell her.

  She smiles nervously at me and glances in the man's direction before heading out of the open front of the shop.

  I calmly put the book down on the promotional table, take a breath and look over in the direction she indicated. It's him. I hoped it would be.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket and I take it out and open the message.

  'Are you alone?'

  I look back at him and nod.

  He looks really good. His hair is longer than the last time I saw him and he hasn't shaved. He always looked better a little bit rougher. First thing in the morning was my favourite. I always said it wasn't fair that when we'd had a big night out, I'd stagger out of bed looking like death warmed up whereas he looked – as my friend Chloe put it the first time she met him – sexy as fuck.

  He hasn't moved, so I cross the shop floor, steering myself around the shelves and the other customers.

  ‘Are you alone?’ I ask him.

  He nods. ‘Sorry. I wasn't going to... I just wanted to say... hello.’

  ‘Hello.’ I smile.

  I want to touch him. I want to put my arms around his waist and feel his hands in my hair. But I can't. Or at least, I shouldn't.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he asks.

  I feel a clutch of panic in my stomach. I'd almost forgotten I was here to catch a flight. First I got lost in choosing a book for the flight and now this. I check my phone – plenty of time.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say, looking up at him. ‘New York.’

  He shakes his head, but he's grinning. ‘Me too.’

  ‘On the 9.25?’

  ‘Yep.’

  I can't even speak. A mixture of fear and excitement bubbles in my stomach, but I try not to let it show on my face.

  ‘What are you going for?’ he asks.

  ‘Just a... break. You?’

  ‘Meetings.’

  We stare at each other and I take a small step backwards.

  ‘Should we get a coffee or something?’ he says.

  We shouldn't. We absolutely shouldn't.

  ‘Yes.’

  It's so hard just walking next to him without reaching for his hand or sliding my arm around his waist, my hand into the back pocket of his jeans. I try to stay an arm's length away, but the airport is so busy and we're having to dodge around people and I bump arms with him more than once. Each time it sends a shiver right to my crotch.

  ‘I'll get them,’ he says as soon as we reach the cafe and I slump down on an outside seat, pressing my thighs together.

  I can't quite believe this is happening. I really shouldn't be having coffee with him. I shouldn't have spoken to him at all. I should have told him I wasn't alone, that I couldn't talk to him. But. I've missed him so much. I take my phone out and delete his text. Then I change my wallpaper to one of the generic pictures that comes with the phone.

  ‘I got you a latte, is that OK?’ Some of the coffee splashes on the table as he sets it down and I realise he's as nervous as I am.

  ‘Thanks.’

  I pick it up and sip it even though I know it's too hot. I lick the foam off my lip.

  Nick looks down at his hands and shakes his head. ‘This is a mistake.’

  ‘Right?’ I say. ‘I can probably change my flight...’

  He looks up and laughs. ‘I meant... They've given me the wrong change.’

  I look at him and I start to laugh. And then I can't stop. He's laughing too and I always loved his laugh.

  ‘I can't change my flight,’ he says when he's stopped laughing.

  ‘No,
that's OK. It's OK. I could, but... I don't need to, do I?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean... we can be grown-ups about this, can't we? We can survive a six-hour flight without killing each other or...’ My face heats up.

  ‘I don't know,’ Nick says, shaking his head. ‘It's an enclosed space. And it's boring. And you know those little packets of nuts turn me on.’

  ‘Shut up,’ I say. I sip my latte again. It's still too hot.

  ‘It'll be fine,’ he says. ‘It's good to see you. I've missed you.’

  I shake my head. ‘Don't say that.’

  ‘OK, I haven't missed you. I was glad to see the back of you.’

  But that's actually a little bit too close to the truth for me to find funny and I know Nick realises it too because he starts fiddling with his coffee, shaking the sugar sachets and stirring it for much longer than necessary.

  ‘That was a joke,’ he says, after a minute or so of uncomfortable silence.

  ‘I know,’ I say.

  ‘Not a funny one though, sorry.’

  ‘Like so many of your jokes,’ I say and offer him a smile.

  ‘And how's your course going? Still enjoying it?’

  I pause, wondering how much to tell him and then I nod. ‘It's great. Lot of work, you know...’

  ‘I remember.’

  ‘And your job?’

  ‘Really good.’

  ‘Good.’

  We stare at each other.

  ‘So this is very civilised,’ he says. His eyes crinkle as he grins at me and I scoot slightly further away from him. He's too bloody sexy. He was always too sexy.

  ‘So, I should probably just get it out of the way,’ he says, looking down at his coffee. ‘How's Adam?’

  ‘Ohhh. I don't know if we should talk about Adam.’

  ‘I was trying to be grown-up about it.’ He grins.

  I smile and look down at my latte. ‘Meh. I suppose we could try being grown-up. It couldn't hurt.’ I cross my legs, knocking the table and spilling some of Nick's coffee. As he mops it up with napkins, I say, ‘He's good. Working hard, you know.’