“Hey,” Deckard called out as he reached his hand across the table to grasp hers. “Want to talk some more about the bomb you dropped this morning?”
“Do I have to? It’s not really something that I share with anyone.”
“You never have to do anything that you don’t want to do, January, and I’d never force you to. But I like you and I’d like to know everything.”
She liked him too. . .a lot, she just realized.
Taking a deep breath, January slipped her hand free from Deckard’s, needing the space so she could garner some strength and ready herself for the ridicule she knew was going to come. Her reasons for hating Christmas were childish – she knew that, but she couldn’t help it either.
Licking her lips, she thought she heard Deckard unsuccessfully biting back a groan as her tongue peaked out. It gave her only the slightest hint of satisfaction.
“Well, like I told you first, I hate that Christmas invades my favorite holidays. Holidays that specifically involve food and dressing up. I also hate that my favorite music stations start playing Christmas music incessantly the minute Thanksgiving is over – sometimes even sooner. And yes, I know that I could find a new station or listen online, but that’s not the point. I shouldn’t have to.” Deckard smartly remained silent as January continued her rant. She was on a roll now and didn’t want any interruptions. “And the forced cheer. Ugh. I am automatically typecast as a grump or Scrooge if I’m not filled with Christmas cheer twenty-four seven. I am called a bitch if I decline holiday parties because I’m not festive.
“And with my family, the Christmas cheer has to be turned on at all times, and to be honest, it’s exhausting.”
“I’m sorry, January. What about your birthday?”
“I’m getting there. I just need a minute.”
In her mind, she’s reliving her childhood - the teasing, name-calling, lies. All of it was painful and made her chest ache. It took her closing her eyes and shutting herself away from the world that she found the courage to continue.
“I have three siblings, all with names that match their birth months. June, April, and Augustus. My brother was the youngest and my parents were done having kids until I surprised everyone when my brother was nine.
“My mother was elated, she always wanted a big family, and another child was a miracle in her eyes. My due date was for January 13 and my parents were tickled to be able to name me January. To them, it was a sign. They had everything monogrammed and had started referring to me by my name from the day they learned my gender.
“But there were complications and I was born three weeks early – on Christmas Eve. My mother almost died giving birth to me and I would have ruined my entire family’s Christmas. My brother and sister’s had to spend Christmas night at the hospital with my parents, all praying that my mom lived. Then when she pulled through, they realized that Santa had missed them. There was no Christmas that year.
“I know my parents don’t blame me for it, but my siblings did for a long time, and I did too.”
Chiming in, Deckard said, “January, none of that was your fault. You were an innocent baby. Sometimes bad things happen. And I’m sure it was simply an accident that your parents forgot to have gifts ready under the tree.”
January was too deep into her self-loathing that she barely heard his consolation. She continued, “The teasing and name-calling started when I began kindergarten. I was excited that my birthday fell the day before Christmas, even though it was almost impossible to celebrate because Christmas overshadowed everything. But I was little and didn’t understand. I always thought the hubbub was for me, you know?
“The kids would say that my parents were dumb and didn’t know their months, or they would call me a mistake. It was hard. And my parents tried their hardest to make sure that I had my own little celebration for my birthday, but classmates and family could never come because they were off on a break or doing their own Christmas festivities. When I turned seven, my parents stopped trying to throw parties because they could see how much it hurt me to have no one attend.
“As I got a little older, I started to despise the holiday more and more.”
“I’m sensing this isn’t the end of the story,” Deckard stated.
“Not even close,” January snickered coldly. “My oldest sister is about fourteen years older than me. She and her boyfriend got engaged one summer and, of course, wanted a winter wedding – the weekend before Christmas that year, on winter solstice.
“My tenth birthday was coming up and all I wanted was a Barbie Dream House. I was a little too old to be playing with them, but I didn’t really care what anyone thought of me at that point. I didn’t have many friends.
“Anyway, I had been dropping hints like crazy all year that the house was what I wanted for my birthday. But my parents were so absorbed with the wedding and Christmas that they forgot.”
“They didn’t get you the Dream House?” Deckard asked.
“They didn’t get me anything. My entire family forgot my birthday that year. So, I stopped celebrating. And when I went to college, I began telling everyone that my birthday was in January whenever someone asked.”
“Damn,” the man sitting across from her mumbled, dumbfounded.
“The thing is. . .I love winter. I think it’s beautiful, especially here in Pineville. I love the snow and I love the quiet that comes with it.” Grunting at her own assertion, January said, “I bet you think I’m crazy.”
Opening her eyes, she peered across the table at him and she was surprised at what she saw. Deckard didn’t appear to pity her as she had imagined. No, he seemed angry. His jaw cracked as he ground his teeth against each other and his right eyebrow seemed to have acquired a twitch.
“Deckard, are you okay?” she asked as she reached for the same hand that had held hers earlier. January was glad when he gripped her hand in return. She was afraid that voicing her feelings would have him running for the hills or trying to change her mind as others had done in the past. But Deckard’s expression was far from one she had seen before. He appeared angry and January didn’t understand why.
“I just. . . I get it and I wish that there was a way I could fix all of that for you. And most of all? I’m so damn angry at your family that I can barely remain sitting here and not storm off toward your parent’s house and giving them a piece of my mind.”
“That’s sweet of you, Deckard. But you don’t need to fight my battles. I’m sure my family felt bad enough.”
“Well, someone should.”
She felt awkward having this man she barely knew feel as if he needed to justify her feelings, but at the same time, it felt good. Like, she wasn’t alone anymore. And Deckard was definitely someone that she wanted to have around more often, despite Samantha’s ribbing on her.
“It’s okay, Deckard.”
“It’s not,” he proclaimed, then his face morphed back into the masculine softness it had been while they enjoyed dinner together. “I just want you to know that I understand no and I don’t blame you for how you feel, but there are a lot of special things about Christmas. Like, being with family and those you love. kissing under the mistletoe with someone special when no one is looking, watching kids tuck themselves into bed hours early as they wait for Santa’s arrival, I could go on and on.”
She wished that he would. January was hypnotized watching his lips move up and down as he spoke, and she craved to feel them brush against her bare skin.
Even though he tried to stifle back his frustration by overshadowing the bad with the good, January could see he was losing the battle.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked, trying to give him an out. “I probably ruined your night with my rant.”
Deckard cocked his head as he listened to her speak. “I don’t think you could ruin anything, January. Especially not with me.”
“I wish that there was something I could do to change your mind,” he said, slipping out of the booth and holding out his hand
for hers. January willingly placed her hand back into his and she marveled at how right it felt. “Don’t forget the box,” he prompted as she almost left it sitting on the table.
“Thanks,” she acknowledged, grabbing the package and tucking it under her arm once again, still wondering how and where the glass snowflake had come from.
Together they walked hand in hand back to the public parking lot where January had parked her car on her way to Nick’s Knacks. There was a biting chill in the air, but it wasn’t unbearable.
She offered to walk alone as they passed Deckard’s family’s shop, but he vehemently declined allowing her to walk by herself. He explained that he wasn't only a gentleman, but he wanted to spend the extra few minutes with her.
January knew at that moment that she was going to fall for Deckard, and it was going to be hard and fast – a complete whirlwind.
She wished that she could press a pause button as her car came into view, but she knew that their time was up.
“This is me,” she said as she sidled up next to the car and placed her bag and the gift box on the roof. “Thank you for dinner. And sorry for the accusations earlier.”
“Don’t mention it. And I want to thank you for telling me everything.” His free hand crept toward her face until the pads of his fingers brushed across her cheek. January expected his touch to be rough against the sensitive skin of her face, but she was surprised to be met with a tender softness. “Maybe you’ll let me help you celebrate your actual birthday this year.”
“It’s Christmas Eve, I’m sure you’ll be preparing for the big day.”
“I’d rather be with you,” Deckard whispered as his fingers slid back and forth delicately across her cheek. She could feel herself falling within the depths of Deckard’s spell. What he possessed was potent and powerful, and January was hypnotized. “Can I take you out for dinner again before then?”
January wanted to say yes. She wanted to shout it from the rooftops, but then her parent’s ridiculous Christmas schedule galloped through her mind leaving a trail of heavy footprints on her heart.
“I’m not going to be free for a while. My parents have this crazy schedule that starts tomorrow leading up to Christmas. My brother and sisters are all coming into town,” she tried to explain, her words speeding up as she spoke. “Maybe we can do something after the holidays?”
The pit in her stomach intensified as she watched his face morph into dejection.
“I can’t, January. I’m leaving on Christmas after breakfast with my grandparents. The shop is closed.”
The feel of his touch on her cheek and neck ceased to exist. January could only feel the pinch of coldness as it swirled around them, nipping away at every ounce of happiness she had been feeling.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I could maybe –” January was interrupted by Deckard as he pressed his lips against hers, silencing her words. The softness of his kiss had every thought escaping January’s mind.
The parking lot drifted away, and all January could see was Deckard as he pulled back. His eyes were heavy with desire and fire swirled in his irises as he took in her swollen lips.
January couldn’t hold herself back. Her heart was pounding in her chest as she reached for the lapels on Deckard’s coat and tugged him closer yearning to explore his mouth fully.
Deckard didn’t fight her need for him. Instead, he reached down and lifted her up, pressing her back against the car door. She instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, not giving a single care if anyone saw them. Their chemistry was so explosive January feared if anyone dared to come close to them at that moment, they would get burned.
She loved the way he tasted. A bit like the beer they had enjoyed during dinner and a trace of the after-dinner mints the server handed them after their meal. It was an odd combination but she liked it just the same – because it was Deckard’s kiss that she couldn’t get enough of.
“Tomorrow.” Kiss. “Lunch.” Kiss. “Noon.” Kiss. “Pick me up.”
“Where?” He trailed his kisses away from her lips down to her neck, sucking on the sensitive skin causing her limbs to shiver.
“The Newspaper offices on Third Street.”
“Okay,” Deckard said as he pulled his mouth away from her neck and gazed adoringly at her. He brushed his lips against hers once more as if he couldn’t restrain himself, but pulled back before she could bring them back to the heated passion they had found themselves in moments ago.
The hold on his control began to waver as he growled, “I should let you go.” January almost laughed as she felt his grip on her bottom tighten, but disappointment quickly blossomed when his fingers loosened and she slipped down his body until her feet landed on the ground.
January felt bereft as he took a step back, adding space between their two bodies. Embarrassment flushed her cheeks at how she pawed at him shamelessly. Control wasn’t something that January ever lost, she always kept it in check. But she had tunnel vision. There was nothing else at that moment but her and Deckard. She wondered if that was how they would be if they were able to see where things may go, but he was leaving. Soon. As in nine days.
It was going to hurt, she knew that. Because even though Samantha teased her about being attracted to Deckard, once the feelings settled, they blossomed and bloomed at an alarming rate until they wove around each and every muscle and bone in her body.
Love was going to come swiftly if January didn’t keep her emotions locked away.
And when Deckard placed his curved index finger under her chin to tilt her face toward his, January knew fighting their attraction was going to be a lost cause. In just two short days, she knew that the inevitable was going to happen. Now she just had to figure out a way to keep it from hurting too badly when he left.
Deckard sealed his lips over hers once more and wished her a good night as she slipped into her car. As she drove away, January peered into her rearview mirror and watched as he stood stoically in the spot she had just vacated, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat and a smirk gracing his lips.
January didn’t think that there was anything that could ruin her night. It was a perfect date that she had been so hesitant to go on after the last boyfriend debacle. Even though Deckard used a guilt trip to have her join him, she didn’t fight that hard. Her attraction to him left her with tunnel vision.
Pulling up to her house, she was too lost in her memories of kissing Deckard that she missed the Christmas lights strung around the banister of her porch or the white light-up snowman in the yard. It wasn’t until she stepped inside her house that reality struck.
Now, not only did she have a Christmas tree in her house, but she had a mantle covered in a Christmas village and garland. Stockings hung in front of her fireplace. More garland draped around her kitchen island, and the doors in her house were wrapped to look like presents.
It looked like someone came into her house and created her worst nightmare.
Thoughts of Deckard quickly disappeared from her mind as anger grew in their wake. She ripped the wrapping paper off the doors first, balled it up, and threw the scraps in the trash. Next to go were the garland and bows in the kitchen. For every tied bow she had to unravel or taped garland she had to peel away from the granite her temper rose, until January swore she saw red.
She hated that her mother felt that she could force January to partake in anything Christmassy. It was bad enough that every night for the next nine days was going to be overrun with the dreaded holiday cheer that she hated. January wished that she could back out of the traditional events, had even tried before, but that secret yearning to make her parents happy was always present. And there was nothing she could do to tamper that feeling. Seeing them happy made her happy, always.
When January got to her fireplace, she couldn’t bring herself to dismantle the Christmas village; it was her mother’s old set, the one she used to admire as a little girl. She would spend hours watching the little magnetic figurines move
along the streets or skate on the plastic ice.
The heaviness of the moment settled on January’s shoulders and her anger began to dissipate.
“Damn,” she murmured, walking over to the couch and settling on the cushions. Looking around her living room, January decided she could deal with how it looked until Christmas, then she could take it all down the minute she woke.
From the corner of her eye, the green gift box caught her attention and she reached over to the coffee table to grab it.
Now she wished she hadn’t left the star ornament on her kitchen counter, but it wasn’t her fault that her mother ruined the surprise of the gift.
Opening the lid, January reached inside, lifted the snowflake from its confines, and read the inscription once again.
“Make a wish, huh?” she asked aloud.
“Well, I wish that there was no Christmas. I wish that Deckard wasn’t leaving. I wish that we had a chance to see where things could go. I wish that my mother would stop barging into my house when I’m not home,” she said as if she were asking a genie to grant her three wishes.
In her bag, January heard her phone chime and she blindly snatched it. A message flashed on the screen
Samantha: Meant to tell you that I signed us up for the secret Santa gift exchange.
Great, she thought as she tossed her phone back on the couch.
Remembering the snowflake still resting in her palm January stood from the couch and marched toward the small table beside the Christmas tree where she hid all the Christmas cards she received. With a tug, the drawer opened and she placed the snowflake on top of the papers, then prepared to shut it. But then sadness pushed through her at the thought of hiding such a beautiful piece that someone painstakingly crafted. It didn’t deserve to hide away in a drawer.
Slipping the ribbon between her fingers, January carried the piece to the Christmas tree and found a branch along the top that was still bare.
Quietly January whispered, “I wish there was no Christmas,” and placed the ornament on the tree, rolling her eyes at the small piece of paper hanging on the ribbon as it caught her eye.
A Snowflake Wish Page 4
