Under the Mistletoe: A Reverse Harem Christmas Novel

by J.C. Valentine

  I’m glaring when I look to Niles. “And you? What was your role in all of this?”

  The troubling thing is, he doesn’t say anything in his defense. He just continues to stand there looking distraught. Probably because they all got caught, I surmise.

  “You can all go to hell,” I hiss. “And to think I was starting to think I really liked you guys. I guess that just goes to show I still have shit taste when it comes to men. I’ll see myself out.” I spin on my heel and yank the door open. “Merry fucking Christmas.” I leave the door standing wide open and I march my way back down the steps and to my car. I hope they freeze to death. It would serve them right.

  Before I even make it to the end of the driveway, I’m on the phone with the airport making arrangements for the next flight out. Who cares that I need the money? Right now, I need a vacation more.

  ***

  The sun is shining so intensely when I step out of the cab that I have to shield my eyes against it. Winters in Minnesota are amazing, filled with snow and gorgeous landscapes, and like much of the northern states, it’s prepared to handle anything this season throws at it. I’ve thought about that a lot over the last few hours and I feel like a real dope. I should have questioned the lie from the beginning, then I wouldn’t have missed Christmas with my family. But at least I learned of the deception early, before I fell for those jackasses.

  A reel of memories flips through my mind’s eye just thinking about Niles, Dean, and Shane, and I ignore the strike of pain in my chest. I refuse to consider what that might mean. Instead, I pay the cab driver and go around to the open trunk to retrieve my bags.

  The front door to my childhood home swings open before my foot touches the curb, and my mom and dad appear in the doorway, a squeal of delight erupting from my mother as she bounds down the steps and races toward me, throws her arms around my shoulders in a big bear hug that she’s known for. I drop my bags on the ground beside us and return the embrace.

  I’ve missed this.

  “You made it!” Her voice is muffled, her face buried in my hair, but I hear every joy-filled word and it warms me to my soul.

  “I told you I would find a way.”

  Grasping my shoulders, she holds me away from her to look at me. Her eyes are tear-stained and her cheeks are ruddy with emotion. “You’re so thin! Get inside. We need to put some meat on those bones.”

  I laugh as we pick up my bags and head up to the house, the snow crunching under our feet.

  “How is everyone?” I ask, watching my dad standing in the doorway, a fond smile on his face as he waits for me to get close enough to pull in for a hug.

  “Your dad is still a stubborn mule. Grandma too, but she’s more reasonable—three days out of the week. And Grandpa’s sugars are high, so he’s moody because we won’t let him have extra whipped cream on his pie.”

  Dad throws his arms around me and hugs me tight, saying, “Welcome home, kiddo,” before we move into the house and I shrug off my overlarge coat and snow boots. Dad takes my bags to my childhood bedroom, still decorated with New Kids on the Block memorabilia and rainbow heart comforter and cleaned regularly to keep everything fresh. It’s like walking back in time, and I love it because it transports me back to an age when I was at my happiest and most carefree.

  “How have you been, dear?” my grandmother asks when I join her at the dinner table later that evening to help shuck the peas for dinner. It’s an antiquated way of doing things, but it affords us girls time to have a heart-to-heart, so it’s been a tradition in our family.

  “Doin’ okay, Gram.” My heart isn’t in my response, and she senses it immediately.

  “Don’t go bullshittin’ an old woman, Elle,” she scolds. “I’ve been around the block enough to know better.”

  “Oh, I bet you have.” I wink at her, and we laugh.

  “Elle, be nice,” my mom says through her own laughter while she fries up the steaks for dinner. “Grandma doesn’t want everyone knowing what a floozy she used to be, do ya, Mom?”

  I can’t stop smiling. I’ve missed this, the easy bantering between us, how we tease each other mercilessly but out of love. A person has to have thick skin to make it in this family.

  “I believe they call that being free,” Grandma says with a lift of her round chin.

  “Oh, is that what we’re going with now?”

  My mom has always teased her mom about being promiscuous in her early years, while Grandma just considers it sowing her wild oats as “any man would do.”

  The comment is left to hang in the wind, and we continue cooking together.

  “What have you been up to, young lady?” Grandma’s voice is strong despite her advanced years and the almost imperceptible tremor in her aged hands.

  “Just working mostly.” She must hear something in my voice because I catch her shooting me a look over the table.

  “Mostly?” I shrug, but she’s unwavering in her pursuit to hear more. “Are you seeing anyone lately?”

  I hesitate. Can I really say I’ve been seeing Niles when I’ve effectively broken up with him—and his friends—even though we’ve never declared ourselves to one another?

  “Kind of. But it was short-lived and it’s over now.”

  “Did you hear that, Nancy?” Gram calls over her shoulder while maintaining eye contact with me. “Elle’s keeping secrets.”

  “I heard it, Mom.”

  Gram points a pea pod at me. “Start talking, young lady, and don’t leave out any details. I’ll know,” she warns.

  And I know she will. Gram can smell a lie or omission a mile away. So I tell her—almost—everything, ignoring the fact that my mother is standing within earshot soaking up every juicy detail like a sponge. It’s a relief to get it off my chest, honestly, and I feel lighter for it once I’m finished.

  “Three?” my mom whispers in disbelief. I hear the judgment in her tone and I avoid eye contact. I knew the nature of my engagement with Niles and his friends wouldn’t go over well, but I had to say something. When Gram wants something, she gets it. Plus, I’ve always found her to be an excellent sounding board and source of advice. She’s never judged me harshly, and she always stands by my side.

  “That’s a doozy, Elle-belle.” Gram’s use of my nickname tells me she’s still on my side in this too, and I feel even better. Scratching her temple with a pod, she ponders everything I’ve told her. “On the one hand, I want to say that you did the right thing dropping their asses and coming home. I would have gotten on a plane just to come kick your ass if I had found out you weren’t visiting us this year over some hot tails. But…on the other hand, I also want to say that men are inherent idiots, your grandfather included, and they wouldn’t know their head from their ass. I lost count of how many dumb things your grandfather did and said before I finally decided that it was either him or the mailman, and trust me when I say inbreeding exists and that man was proof positive. So I chose your grandfather, and here we are, fifty-six years later. He’s still a box of rocks most days, but others…” She smiles fondly toward the empty doorway where I can hear my grandpa’s aged voice recanting the same story about a trip to Home Depot he had once that resulted in a police chase and a cheap cup of coffee the next day.

  It’s clear she loves the man more than life itself.

  “My point is, don’t judge their dumb asses too harshly. It sounds to me like they were only trying to steal as much time with you as possible, and in their greed, they didn’t think about what they were doing wrong.”

  I snap a pea pod and spill the tiny peas inside into the giant bowl between us that’s almost filled to the brim and ready for cooking. “I see your point, Gram, and trust me when I say that I’ve considered that angle.” I shake my head. “I just don’t know though. The whole thing is already complicated with there being three of them, and then add to it that they can’t even consider my feelings on something that should have been obvious?” I just don’t know that I can look past such a glaring “mista
ke.”

  “Elle-belle…” Gram reached across the table and stays my hands with one of her own. She meets my eyes, her gray-blue stare earnest. “What kind of woman do you want to be? One that judges harshly and misses out on all the fun life has to offer, or one that forgives and lives it to its fullest?”

  My lips part but no words come forth. Is it really as simple as that?

  “Three men, Mom,” my mom reminds her.

  Gram cuts a swift hand through the air and scoffs. “Hells bells, Nancy, that’s nothin’. I had more gentlemen suiters than that in my lifetime. Some knew and some didn’t. Didn’t really matter a lick to any of us. It’s what’s in the heart and mind that counts.”

  I look at my mom and see the total shock registered on her face. While Gram has always been a bit “out there,” I don’t think she knew as much about her mother as she does now, and it’s taking some time to digest.

  “If it’s what others might think of you that’s really holding you back,” Gram continues, focusing the whole of her attention on me again, “then I suggest you put it right out of your head. You can’t live your life if you’re always worrying about what others are going to think.”

  “But it’s societal rules that keep us civil,” I argue halfheartedly, and shuck another pod into the bowl.

  “Society doesn’t know what it wants. All it does is make rules and then break them in the shadows. Live your life how you want to live it. No one else is going to do it for ya.”

  Finally, her words hit home, and I sink into a still quiet as we finish preparing dinner and sit down to eat as a family.

  I have a choice to make, and I can’t take it lightly. There’s too much on the line, and Gram is right: whatever I decide, I have to do it on my terms and in a way that’s going to make me happy at the end of the day.

  14

  I arrive home on New Year’s Eve morning. I would have stayed at my parents’ house longer, but I’d reached my decision and felt a pressing need to return home. But now that I am here, I’m not sure how to proceed.

  Uncharacteristically of me, I’m feeling shy and unsure of myself.

  Setting my luggage on the floor just inside the door of the apartment, I take a look around at my quaint and cozy space. It’s small. Smaller than I remember, and I think it has everything to do with my staying at Niles’ house. Now I have something grand to compare it to, and while I used to love my home, even though I don’t own one square inch of it, everything is coming up short.

  There’s no large kitchen or oversize living room. No fireplace to warm myself in front of on chilly nights or big screen television to watch movies on because I don’t allow myself luxuries like that when my goals are so close to being reached. I don’t have an outdoor space to call my own nor anyone to play in the snow with either. And I surely don’t have a beautiful staircase to walk up to one of my many bedrooms that could easily house mine ten times over. Hell, I barely have enough room for myself and my belongings, let alone space for a guest.

  I know I shouldn’t compare myself or my life with someone else’s, but it’s hard not to when I keep looking back on that brief time with longing and regret.

  Did I make the right choice by leaving?

  I’ve been unsure of myself since I left and I’m no closer to feeling better about it now that I’m back. Yes, I’ve made my choice, but the longer I stand here, the more I’m beginning to doubt myself. The last thing I want is my decision to be made based on nostalgia. I need to be absolutely sure of my motivations and relatively certain of the outcome before I make that leap.

  Revision made and a newly depressed state of mind firmly rooted in place, I kick the bags aside so I can close and lock the door, and then I shuffle the few feet to my right into the galley-style kitchen to microwave myself a cup of sugar-free hot chocolate.

  Sipping my drink on the couch in front of my outdated twenty-inch flatscreen that’s tuned into a parade happening somewhere downtown, I think about how differently this day could be going if I’d just make up my mind and stop being a sissy. But I know that no matter what I might decide, I’m going to have to build up the courage to act it out. That’s going to take some time.

  Time that ends up turning from day into night, where I sit alone to watch the ball in Times Square drop, and into the next day, whereupon I have to work just like everyone else.

  No one wants to be here, but unlike me, they’re probably just suffering hangovers. Meanwhile, I’m waiting for Niles to arrive so we can talk.

  Colleen enters the cubicle looking a little worse for wear, with her giant leopard-print blackout sunglasses that fill half of her face and a venti-sized cup of coffee in her hand. She grunts by way of saying good morning and plops down into her rolling desk chair, and then takes a few minutes to get her things put away and herself situated.

  While the computer is firing up, she turns toward me—I don’t have to see it to know it. Her habits are ingrained at this point and the telltale squeak of her chair gives it away every time.

  “How was your holiday?”

  I don’t turn to face her when I say, “Fine. Yours?”

  She gives a long, drawn-out sigh. “You wouldn’t believe how crazy it was.”

  I spend the next twenty minutes listening to her drone on about each and every present she bought for her kids, as well as their reactions, followed by family drama at dinner, and more. I tuned out for most of it, but I clung to every word when I heard Niles’ come up.

  “Wait, run that by me again.” I turn to face her now, determined not to miss anything.

  “Oh, well, I heard in the Facebook group—”

  “There’s a Facebook group?”

  She laughs. “Of course! You should join us. There’s so much stuff going on in this office. You can’t even imagine!” She continues on, leaving me stunned that something like an office social media page even exists, and its sole purpose is to dish the dirt on everyone. Of course Colleen would be part of that.

  “…he’s seeing someone in the office.”

  I realized I’ve tuned out again and I jump back in. “Niles?”

  “Yes! Haven’t you been listening?”

  “Sorry. It was a long week.” I brush my hair back over my shoulder and massage my forehead, praying that she didn’t just say what I think she did.

  “Niles is seeing someone in the company. A woman,” she whispers conspiratorially, leaning in toward me with lifted brows and wide eyes as if this piece of information is particularly juicy.

  “How do you know it’s a woman?” I ask, wondering if and how anyone would have spotted me coming to or going from their house.

  Colleen blinks and her eyes glaze over. She sits back in her chair. “Well, I don’t know. That’s just what everyone is saying. I’m just the messenger.”

  Right, so there’s no basis in facts here. Just people running their mouths. I breathe a sigh of relief that my personal life is still mine. “Right. Well, remember what they say, Colleen.” I turn in my chair and place my hands back on the keyboard, prepared to get back to work.

  “What’s that?”

  “Believe nothing of what you hear and only half of what you see.” I also consider the saying that anyone who gossips to you having no problem gossiping about you. Colleen may not realize her current hot topic is about me, but I do, and it puts me on high alert to be even more careful around her than usual.

  Colleen huffs as if bothered or annoyed by my comment, and she doesn’t speak another word as she finally gets to work. I can’t say that I’m excited to continue with this day. It feels as if the whole office is a ticking time bomb now. I don’t know who is watching and listening or who is behind the carrying of tales. Everyone is suspect, and I can trust no one.

  I’m careful the rest of the day, making no moves to try to seek out Niles. If I do, I’m afraid prying eyes and ears will notice, and then they’ll have a face to add to their gossip page. After that, there will be no such thing as privacy, something I valu
e greatly in my life.

  It shines a spotlight, though, on how delicate this situation I’ve found myself in is. If I decide to try to be with Niles, Dean, and Shane like I thought, then I have to consider the social ramifications too. People won’t take kindly to our arrangement. They’ll judge us swiftly and harshly. While the world is waking up to the differences in their fellow man and becoming more accepting, embracing people whose lives don’t match their own, we’re still a long way away from total acceptance. My guess is that a polyamorous relationship is scraping the bottom of the barrel on that list of things society is warming to right now, so I’d have to be ready for all kinds of criticism and rejection.

  Hell, even my own mother wasn’t able to hide her shock and disapproval. But to her credit, she didn’t outright shun me like some might do to their children when their lifestyle doesn’t end up matching what they envisioned for them. At least she was willing to listen and accept me on the surface. She was willing to make a concerted effort. Maybe that had more to do with Gram’s acceptance and even encouragement, I don’t know, but I know that it could have been worse. I fear I may be facing that “worse” now if I continue down the road I’ve decided on.

  Closing on the end of the workday, I find myself with a light load of papers to file and decide to spend my remaining minutes on the clock scrolling through my phone. Facebook notifications call to me and after checking them, I end up searching for this group Colleen is part of. I find it under Fairweather Corp. Friends and consider joining. Do I really want to be associated with a bunch of people who stab each other in the back for kicks? My curiosity is eating at me though, wondering how much more they know about my life.

  Nothing. They know nothing of importance; otherwise, Colleen would have been spilling the beans all over our cubicle this morning.

  I close the app and tuck my phone away in my purse, refusing to give it another though. Gram was right when she said I can’t allow others’ opinions to determine my course in life. They’re not the ones living it. Meaning, whatever direction I decide to ultimately go in, I have to make sure it’s something I can live with. Otherwise, I’ll never find my happy place.