by Kata Čuić
“So many, Daddy.”
“I see.” He pauses for a few moments, but I don’t consider that the call has dropped. My dad is the type to always think before he speaks when it’s important. “Was your meeting today good or bad?
“Bad. No one cares what I think. Since I’m just the intern, no amount of research I do matters. They walk right over me, even though they don’t have any better ideas.”
He hums again. “And who did you want to talk to about it? Don’t think. Tell me your immediate gut reaction.”
“No one.” My answer is honest. “If you hadn’t called just now, I probably wouldn’t even have mentioned it to you.”
“That’s a problem, baby girl. I knew your mom was the one because she was the first person I wanted to share every joy and every heartbreak with.”
“What about now?” I press. I’ve lived my whole life without my mother. Who’s been the person my dad runs to all this time?
“She might not be here physically, but I still talk to your mom first about everything. She’s probably mad as hell that I’ve raised you to be so independent that you feel like you can’t count on anyone to be there for you.”
I snort in spite of myself. Dad hasn’t raised me to be independent at all. The problem is that I can count on him—to do everything for me.
“I’m serious, princess. Everyone thinks relationships are about give and take, and they are. The mistake is thinking you only have to give your best. If you can’t show someone your worst and expect they’re going to love you anyway, then that’s not a relationship at all. That’s friends with benefits, as Theo would say.” He practically pukes out the last part.
I am absolutely alone in this room, but my cheeks fire to life anyway. My dad didn’t even have the birds and bees talk with me. He signed a form to give the high school health teacher permission to do it. There are just some things fathers and daughters don’t ever need to share.
“It’s a little more complicated than that.” I am all for changing the subject. “He’s a professional football player. The season is tough on these guys both physically and mentally. They’re about to enter the playoffs, and they’re already exhausted. Mike doesn’t need to hear about my bad day.”
“Maybe not, but what concerns me is that you don’t seem to even want to share it.”
My dad’s words flatten me to my chair.
I accused Mike of holding back, of not confiding in me, but…I’ve been doing the same thing all along.
I can’t hide behind the temporary label anymore. He might not have said the words out loud, but Mike’s told me he loves me. He’s absolutely not the kind of man to admit that flippantly. Certainly not if he thinks this thing is over before it begins.
I’m not giving myself the chance to fall in love with him.
“Tori?” My dad’s voice is softer than I’ve ever heard it. “You’re worrying me, baby girl. A scholarship isn’t worth your suffering. Maybe it’s time to come home.”
A laugh drowns out my threatening tears. Same old Dad.
“No can do, sir. I have a job to do. I’ll see you for Christmas.”
“I’ll work out a schedule with your brothers, then I’ll call you with our itinerary.”
Long after we’ve ended the call, I sit at my desk with my head in my hands.
“Bad day?”
My scream echoes off the walls. I press my hand against my chest, sure I’m having a heart attack at the ripe old age of twenty-four. “Mike! God, you scared the crap out of me! What are you doing here?”
His grin is a little sheepish. He shrugs and stuffs his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. How does this man make embarrassment and athletic wear look so darn good?
“I always drop in here after I’m done for the evening. It’s usually empty.”
“We had a late meeting,” I explain then pause, rewind, and replay the words Mike spoke. “You…stop in here every night on your way home?”
“Yeah,” he admits. For once, I’m not the one blushing.
“Why?”
He shrugs again, toes the carpet with his sneaker, and doesn’t quite meet my gaze. It’s so odd—so heartwarming—to see a man this powerful act anything less than completely confident. “Maybe you’ll still be here. Like tonight.”
Why am I not giving myself the chance to fall in love with him?
I hoist my messenger bag over my shoulder then rise from my seat. He towers over me when I stand in front of him. The muscles in his arms bulge and flex with his stance, but I could never be afraid of Mike Mitchell. Especially not after what he’s confided in me.
I wrap my arms around his waist, plaster my face to his chest, and let myself feel totally and utterly protected when he wraps his arms around me in return.
“I need your help with something,” I mumble into his shirt.
His answer is immediate. “Absolutely. What do you need?”
“What are your plans for Christmas?” It’s not totally baring myself, but it’s a good start.
He combs his fingers through my hair. “We don’t have a game, so they’re giving us the day off. My mom and sisters are actually flying in. Why? Did you want me to do some other charity event?”
I feel awful that his first guess is something PR related instead of assuming I wanted to make plans for us. This isn’t really a romantic idea, but I don’t retreat. “My dad and brothers are driving up, too. They’ll stay in a hotel, but my apartment is too small to host them there. Would you mind sharing your place for Christmas dinner?”
He wraps his hand around my hair like a human ponytail holder, then he tugs on it, bringing my chin up until our gazes meet. His eyebrows are raised.
“It doesn’t have to be dinner,” I backtrack. “It could be breakfast, or brunch, or lunch, or…or, even just dessert! It doesn’t have to be Christmas day either! It can be any day that’s convenient for you!”
A slow grin spreads across his mouth until all his straight, white teeth are visible. “We can host Christmas together for both our families. I’d like that.”
“You would?”
He brushes his lips against mine. “I would. We already crossed the line of a pretend relationship a long time ago. Why not go all out and spend the holidays together?”
“You’ve met my brothers, right?” I remind him.
He laughs against my mouth. “I have. Honestly, we’re kind of similar. I probably treat my sisters the same way your brothers treat you.”
It’s my turn to raise my eyebrows. “Doubtful. You’re not that big of a jerk.”
“It’s just because they have chips on their shoulders that you’re the most attractive sibling.”
“What?” I laugh out.
“It’s true,” he insists. “I think they act the way they do because they’re jealous.”
“That’s absurd.” I glance down only to be faced with the big yellow spot I’ve left on his shirt. Again.
He follows my gaze and just laughs. “Forgot to use the setting powder, huh?”
Oh my God. In hindsight, I had no idea how much that moment meant at the time. “You didn’t learn how to do makeup by teaching your sisters, did you?”
“No,” he confirms, swiping his finger down my cheek. “My mom taught them how to do that.”
He helped her cover up the bruises she was too beat-up to deal with. There’s something to be said for sharing hardship, but I’m still a big believer in building other people up. “Lucky girls. I bet she even had the sex talk with them.”
His face puckers. “Yeah. Unfortunately, she also tried to have it with me.”
“Really? My dad didn’t. He left that up to my high school health teacher.”
Mike wraps his arm around my shoulder and steers us toward the exit. “I weirdly learned way more sex ed from the quarterback of my high school team.”
“Rob?”
“No.” He laughs like that’s the funniest thing I’ve ever said. “God, no. His name was Jeff Black. He was a se
nior when I was a sophomore.”
This seems like a much happier memory. “I’d love to hear more about this story when we get home.”
We stop at my car, where Mike waits for me to unlock it and shove my bag into the backseat.
“Speaking of home…why do you stop in the marketing department every night before you leave if I’m just going to inevitably see you at your place in a bit anyway?”
“The same reason I’m all for hosting Christmas together.” He bends down to dust my lips with a kiss when I’m seated behind the steering wheel. “If I only get to have a little time with you, then I’m not going to waste a second.”
I stare at him as he strides to his truck after closing my door. So, he does believe this thing between us is finite. He told me he loves me and bared his soul to me anyway. That’s a gift I haven’t fully appreciated until just now.
I want to give him a gift in return. I’m going to make sure he has the best Christmas ever.
“This is a disaster.”
I couldn’t agree more. At least I don’t have to worry about beating the shit out of Tori’s brothers. If even one more lewd joke is shared, I’m pretty sure Hope is going to castrate all five of them.
That would normally make me proud as hell, but the tears in Tori’s voice carry more weight.
“Everyone’s hangry and mad the rents won’t let us open our gifts on Christmas Eve. That’s all.” I can’t believe I’m excusing anyone’s bad behavior, but honestly? My mom and Tori’s dad are in the kitchen, arguing about the best glaze for a baked ham. Even the adults aren’t setting a good example.
“We could never get married.” She sighs. “Our families would kill each other. This is like the Capulets and Montagues.”
I’m pretty sure that’s a Romeo and Juliet reference, but all I’m paying attention to is Tori considering marriage. To me.
I’m kind of disappointed now that I didn’t buy her diamonds for Christmas. I didn’t want to scare her off more than I probably already have by going too far in the other direction to prove I’m a worthy contender for her heart.
“We could always elope.” It’s a joke. A test. A stupid thing out of my mouth.
She nods like it’s an entirely plausible suggestion.
Suddenly, I’m having the best Christmas ever even though I am absolutely beat up from our last game.
“I wanted you to have the best Christmas ever, and this is turning out to be the worst.” She actually sniffles back a sob, not realizing she’s just given me the gift of a lifetime.
I could go into the living room and scream and yell at our siblings to behave themselves. That’s not going to improve anyone’s mood, and I’m too tired to strongarm everyone into doing what they should be anyway.
“Well…” This has the potential to either backfire spectacularly or be the best idea I’ve ever had. “You’re the lady of the house. Take charge.”
Her laughter rains over my skin like a thousand invisible kisses that make all my bruises feel better.
“Seriously.” If I’m going to do this, I might as well go all the way. I have this feeling I’ve only seen glimpses of what Peaches is capable of. I hate that her family snuffs out all her potential. “This is our house. They have to learn how to respect that. Lead the way, and I’ll support you.”
She raises her eyebrows, hopefully impressed that she’s taught me anything. “Since this is going to be a team effort, I’m open to suggestions of how to accomplish holiday goodwill between opposing sides.”
“I read a story in history once about soldiers in World War I who called a cease-fire on Christmas Eve and sang Silent Night to each other…” I might not have been able to run with the Romeo and Juliet reference, but I don’t want her to think I’m a complete idiot either.
“I don’t think our families are really the sing-along types.”
Damn. Foiled again. “Okay, fine. I vote for putting on National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation and making them play the hat game.”
Tori gapes at me like I am an idiot. “What’s the hat game?”
I can’t believe she’s even asking, but I also can. Her family has sheltered her to the point of gross innocence—the total opposite of what I learned from a very young age. “It’s pretty simple. You put a Santa hat on the corner of the TV. Every time someone on the screen looks like they’re wearing it, you drink.”
She narrows her eyes, obviously trying to work out how this would play out. “You want to get our siblings drunk on Christmas Eve?”
I’m all out of better ideas at this point. “Yep.”
She sighs then places her hands on her hips. “Mitchell, I like what you’re bringing to the table, but I have a few concerns.”
I hope she likes what I bring to the table. More than the other guy anyway. “I’m all ears. Go on.”
“Number one, if we get them drunk, they might just be more belligerent. Number two, you don’t keep alcohol in your home, so even if your suggestion is brilliant, it’s a moot point.”
Oh, shit. She’s right. I didn’t think this plan through. “It’s early. I’m sure liquor stores are still open. I can run out and get enough booze to sedate ten people. Do you have a better idea?”
I bite back a smile because she’s obviously ready and waiting with a counter-offer.
“I vote for guilt-tripping them into shoveling your insanely long driveway since you’re so sore from work.” She grins.
It’s evil, devious, and nothing I associate with Peaches, but I love it instantly anyway.
I’m not about to bring up the fact I can call a service to plow the driveway. “Rock, paper, scissors to decide?”
She immediately cocks her arm back, geared for battle. “Two out of three?”
“Come at me, Peaches.” I want that. I want it so much.
It’s a Christmas miracle that I win. I’m not firing on all cylinders, but I honestly want to give her this opportunity to make her voice heard.
“Okay.” I pretend I’m disappointed. “Guess I’m heading out in all the snow and ice to fetch the booze. On Christmas Eve.”
I might pretend a little too well.
She frowns. “Maybe I should go. If you show up at the liquor store, buying out all the stock, that could make for bad press.”
I flip up the hood of my Wolves sweatshirt. “I have sunglasses in my truck. I’ll go incognito. Besides, I’m from Ohio. You’re from Virginia. I have way more experience driving in the snow than you do.”
She squints her eyes at me.
“If all else fails, and someone recognizes me, I’ll tell the truth—that we’re in the middle of holiday, blended-family chaos. That’s relatable, right? Fans would probably eat that shit up right about now.”
She puffs out a breath of defeat. “It absolutely is relatable. You’re learning, Mitchell.”
I hope that’s not all I’m learning. I plant a kiss on her lips. “Good luck, future Mrs. Mitchell. I’ll be back in about an hour.”
She glances around at the mayhem, not looking the least bit confident—either in me pushing the envelope or her abilities. “I wouldn’t blame you if you made it three hours.”
“I never want to be away from you that long.”
Like baby Jesus himself is against me landing this deal, it actually takes me over two hours to fight through the shitty road conditions, weirdly heavy traffic, and to find a liquor store still open on Christmas Eve.
When I pull into my driveway though, it’s clear of the fresh five inches of powder. Several bodies are engaged in a fierce snowball fight on the lawn. I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re hiding rocks in the middle of the white stuff.
“Are you trying to kill each other for real?” I yell as I pull boxes from the back seat.
“Yep!” Faith shouts back. “Tori was right! This is totally therapeutic!”
That pulls a laugh out of me. I’ve come to really appreciate Tori’s off-the-wall ways of accomplishing anything.
I don’t want to
pull our siblings away from their wholesome therapy, so I haul the boxes inside myself. The glass bottles clank against each other. It’s a different sort of jingle than the traditional sleigh bells, but hopefully it’ll help everyone be jolly.
The sight that meets me in the house stops me dead in my tracks.
Tori’s in the kitchen alone, stirring something in a pot on the stovetop. I’ve seen her in this kitchen a million times, wearing a lot less clothing. There’s something about watching her prep dinner on Christmas Eve wearing an ugly holiday sweater—a tradition in her family—that really makes my heart thump in my chest though. Next year might be totally different. More peaceful, sure, but also more empty.
I really can’t imagine my life without her in it anymore.
I’d love to pretend she’s in the middle of a phone call with anyone other than who I know damn well is on the other end of the line though.
“I’m fine,” she hisses into the cell she has propped between her cheek and shoulder. “Stop trying to make this out to be something it’s not just because it’s suddenly convenient for you.”
My heart goes from thumping to still in way less time than it takes me to run a fifty-yard dash.
At face value, her words make it seem like she’s been seeing him behind my back, even though I know that’s not possible. We’re both way too busy near the end of the season for her to have any free time that she isn’t already spending with me.
“Look, Ben.” She sighs. “It’s Christmas. I don’t want to fight, okay? More importantly, I don’t want to look back on all the time we spent together and have it seem ugly because of the way you’re acting in the present. Let’s just leave those memories where they belong—in the past. I’m so very sorry that your engagement ended. But…this needs to be the last time you call me.”
Damn. And I thought I had it rough with my ex.
“No.” She straightens her spine and actually slams the spoon she’s holding down on the countertop. “Listen very carefully to my words. I need you to hear them. We are never getting back together. It has nothing to do with my relationship with Mike. You and I are done. Finished. Over.” Her shoulders slump and her voice softens. “Merry Christmas.”
