by Cathryn Fox
“I can’t wait. How about you? What’s Christmas like for you?” I once again almost ask him if he’d like to spend time at my place. But I don’t want to put the cart before the horse. We need to have an honest and open conversation before I even let Mom know he exists, because there’s a chance this is all in my head.
He peeks his head out as he wipes his wet hands on a towel. “My family will be there. Grandmother, and cousins and some aunts and uncles. Pretty much the one and only time we’re all together.”
“You must be looking forward to that, and having all the family around the dining room table for Christmas dinner.” I used to dream about such things. Living in a fancy house, with a big family, all laughing around the table as we exchange stories. I guess it’s not really like it’s portrayed in the movies, and while it’s only Mom and me, we have the nicest time.
He gives a humorless laugh. “Oh yeah, watching Mom and Dad pretend to like each other. It’s like dinner and a movie.”
I laugh at that as he comes from the room and put my hands on his chest to stop him. “Sit,” I tell him and point to his favorite comfy chair.
“I thought we were cooking.”
I hand him the remote. “I’m sure there’s some game on somewhere. You sit, and I’m bringing breakfast to you.”
He grabs my hand and tugs until my mouth is inches from his. “What are you up to, Maize Malone?”
I give him a quick peck. “You’ll find out.”
As he continues to eye me, I grin at him, and give a little finger wave as I exit his room and tug the door shut behind me. I might not have the money to get him a proper Christmas gift, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give him something I know he likes. Besides, Christmas isn’t about the amount you spend, it’s about spending time and doing nice things for those you care about. That’s my look on it, anyway.
I hurry to the kitchen and get straight to work. I might not have been studying those times at the library, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been learning new things. I put all my focus into what I’m doing and less than thirty minutes later, I find a serving tray beside the fridge, and place our plates, and mugs of coffee on it, putting only sugar in Christian’s. I head back up to his room, and the sound of a football game on the TV reaches my ears.
Unable to open the door, I give it a couple taps with my foot and the next thing I know, Christian is standing on the other side of the door, his jaw slack when his gaze drops to the tray.
“What the hell?”
I laugh a little, giddy inside that I can surprise him like this.
“Can I come in?”
“What did you do?” he asks as I move past him and set the food down onto his small table, and put one plate where he sits, and one where I sit. Then I set our coffees down.
“I made us a late breakfast.”
He scratches his head, perplexed. “You made eggs benny?”
“I did.” I wave to his chair. “Sit down and dig in.”
He’s still a little shocked as he drops into the chair, picks up his fork, and takes his first bite. “Jesus,” he says around a mouthful of egg and hollandaise sauce. “This tastes just like the eggs benny at Juleps.”
“I know.”
“What did you do?” he asks again as he takes a sip of coffee and moans.
I push to my feet, lean across the table and plant a kiss on his mouth. “Merry Christmas, Christian.”
“This is the best Christmas present ever. Even the coffee is perfect.”
I laugh at that. “I thought you might like it, and I have a confession.” His brow raises. “I borrowed a friend’s car and drove to Juleps. I had a nice conversation with your favorite server, and she got me this recipe. I’ve been practicing. That’s why you could never find me at the library. I was taking my mistakes to my Kaitlyn and my roommates. They’re kind of sick of eggs and hollandaise.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” His smile is so sweet, and sincere it wraps around my heart and tugs tight. I am so damn crazy about this guy.
“You’re the best, Maize Malone.”
“Yeah, I know.”
We both laugh and talk about our exams as we eat, and once the plates are cleared, Christian insists on doing up the dishes while I finish packing. I walk around the room, and note how many things I actually have here now. I flick through the TV stations and turn on a talk show as I gather a few of my clothes and toss them into my bag. I don’t need many, since I still have things at Mom’s. I grab my toiletries from the bathroom, and before I shove my laptop into my backpack, I open it and check my messages. A gasp catches in my throat when I see one from Dean Saunders. I sink down onto the bed, my heart jumping into my throat. I read the message once, and then again. The door opens and I can’t stop grinning when Christian walks in.
He comes toward me, his gaze going from my face to my laptop back to my face. “What?”
“You’re not going to believe this,” I squeal.
“Try me.”
I set my laptop down, and throw my arms around him. “Dean Saunders received my application, and wants to have a conversation over the holidays. He asked me to set up a time.”
Christian picks me up and spins me around. “I knew he’d been impressed, Maize.”
“I can’t believe this.”
He kisses my forehead and sets me on my feet. “I can. You worked hard for this.”
I tap his nose and grin. “Our dinner in Aspen didn’t hurt, either. You’re a big part of this, Christian. Thank you.”
“No thanks needed.” He slaps my ass. “Now message him back, and then let’s get going. I’m sure you’re going to want to tell your mom this news in person.”
“Do you think tomorrow is too soon to set up a call?”
“The sooner the better,” he says.
I open my laptop and respond and not expecting an answer so fast, I’m about to close it when his email pops up, giving me a time. “It’s a go. We’re on for tomorrow.”
“Nice. Your mom is going to be so proud of you.” He makes a fist and nudges my chin playfully. “I know I am.”
I honestly love how he thinks of my mother, and really seems to cherish the relationship we have. I hate that his mother and father are so absent. He deserves so much better than that. I finish getting my things together and less than an hour later, we head to his car.
“I really appreciate you driving me home.” Kaitlyn had finished up yesterday and had no problem waiting an extra day to drive me home, but Christian jumped at the chance.
“Oh, did you think I was driving you home?” he says his lips twitching. “I’m just driving you to the closest bus stop.”
“After that meal I just made, I’d think a rolled out red carpet from Wolf House to the car was in order.”
He tosses our bags into the trunk and something moves over his face, something I can’t quite identify. Reaching past me, he opens my door and I slide in. I take his dark, contemplative expression as he circles the Jeep and slides in beside me.
“You okay?” I ask.
He puts on a smile. “I’m good.”
I study his profile as he backs out of his spot, and I don’t get the sense that he’s good at all. His quick change of mood is enough to give me whiplash, but I go silent and chalk it up to going home. We both have very different things waiting for us.
When one of my favorite songs comes on the radio, I jack it up and sing along, and I don’t care that I can’t carry a tune or that Christian is grinning at me. I shake my head and laugh. It’s crazy how far Christian and I have come since high school. Never in a million years would the old me believe that I’d be in his car singing, or in his bed fucking. Although lately, his touch has felt far more emotional than physical.
“You have to guide me,” he says when we get close to home, and I nod, having forgotten that he doesn’t know where I live. I was the poor girl who took three buses to get to his school. I guide him through town, and point to the house two doors down f
rom mine—Ryan’s house.
He leans toward me and glances out the window. “This is where you grew up?” I turn and take in the small white bungalow with the broken shutter to the left of the main window. Ryan and I broke that when we were playing in the yard one day and it’s been like that for years.
“No, actually, I live in the gray house back there.”
He turns to look, a frown pulling at his face. “Then why are we here?”
I crinkle my nose almost apologetically. “If Mom sees me being dropped off by a guy, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He turns the radio down, like he needs quiet to tell me something, but a bang has both our heads lifting. I turn and see Ryan come rushing from his front door. He pulls open my door, and practically drags me out.
“Wait, I’m belted in,” I say laughing, and once I get it unlatched, he drags me to him and gives me a big hug. For a second, I think I hear a growl rumbling in Christian’s throat. I turn to him, and he’s glaring at us, his fingers tapping the steering wheel.
“Hey, little Maize Daisy,” Ryan says, and I whack him.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Who’s your friend?” Christian asks, his voice a measure deeper.
“Christian, this is Ryan. You remember me mentioning him.” He nods, slowly, and sizes up Ryan. “Ryan this is Christian, uh, my friend.”
Ryan leans forward to see Christian, and I can almost hear his brain spinning. “Nice to meet you, Christian.”
“Yeah, same.”
Suddenly, like a lightbulb just went off in his head, Ryan says, “Christian…wait…” he glances at me. “Is this the same Christian who—”
“Thanks for the drive, Christian,” I blurt out, not wanting to talk about that closet incident right now. “Can you pop the back so I can get my things?”
“I’ll get them,” Ryan says.
Christian kills the ignition and climbs from the car. Without a word, he goes to the back of the Jeep, opens the door and pulls out my bag. He hands it to me, and there is almost a frightening intensity about him when he glances over my shoulder at Ryan—no wonder he’s so intimidating on the football field—and says, “You good, Maize?”
“I’m…good.”
His head dips and his knuckles brush mine. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then scrubs his face, and turns from me. He taps his hands on the roof of the Jeep before he gets in, and says, “Knock Saunders dead, okay?”
“I will. Merry Christmas, Christian.”
He stares at me long and hard before he says, “Merry Christmas,” and I’m not sure why, but it sounded a whole lot more like goodbye.
21
Christian
I’m in a pretty bad fucking mood by the time I cross town and pull into my parents’ driveway. My phone pings and it’s Linc checking to see if I want to go out for a beer. I give a humorless laugh. He seems to be about as happy as I am at being back home. I text back to let him know I’ll be up for it later, and that I have to go say hello to the family.
I kill the ignition and climb from my Jeep, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling eating at me. Ryan is Maize’s friend. Sure, he wrapped her up in a big hug and looked at her with pure adoration in his eyes, and she did the same. But they’re just friends, right? Maybe they’re still friends with benefits. Damned if that doesn’t burn a hole in my gut and make me want to go back there and beat the shit out of him. Oh, but I can’t do that.
Why the fuck didn’t you lay claim already, dude?
Isn’t that the question of the century. If I was being honest with myself, I’m a bit of a chicken shit. My whole life, I was adamant that I wasn’t going to get involved in a serious relationship. I didn’t want to fall into the pattern my parents did. The love, or infatuation, or whatever it is, fades, and you end up resenting one another, yet you have a kid, so you stick it out and live un-happily ever after. Real fucking fairy tale that is.
I open the front door, and step into the spacious front entry. Dropping my bag, I call out to my mother.
“Christian,” Mom says and comes to greet me, looking completely put together with her perfect clothes, hair and makeup. After a hug, she tucks a blond strand behind her ear and stands back. “Let me look at you.” She takes me in, and probably doesn’t like that I’m dressed in jeans and my football jacket, but instead of saying anything, she smiles and leans in for another hug. It’s been four months since I’ve last been home, and I haven’t changed physically. In other ways, maybe, but I’m still fit from football and exercise. “So good to see you, but you do need a haircut.”
I run my fingers through my hair, and nod in agreement. “It’s good to be home,” I say as her familiar expensive perfume fills the air around us. “Dad back yet?”
“He doesn’t get in until tomorrow afternoon.” She plasters on a smile. “Why don’t you put your things into your room, and come back down for coffee.” There’s a strain in her voice when she adds, “Your grandmother is on her way over. She’s bringing your favorite cookies. We thought you’d be home by now.”
“Sorry, got a little tied up and couldn’t get away until later.” Even though I’m not a kid anymore, Grandma still likes to bake for me, and I like it, too. “Give me a sec to drop my bag in my room.” I dart up the stairs and set my bag onto my bed and instantly go on a trip down memory lane as I glance around the spacious room. My bedroom is exactly as I left it four years ago. But I definitely feel different than I did when I left for college. In so many ways, ways that actually scare me a bit. The front door opens and I hear Grandma’s voice, so I head to the stairs, taking them two at a time, and throw my arms around her.
“Grandma, I missed you.”
She laughs and whacks me as she shoves a container of cookies at me. “Oh, phooey, you missed my peanut butter chocolate chip cookies.”
“That’s true, too.” I laugh as I take the container, and for a brief second I think of tucking a few away for Maize. Although by the time I pick her up to go back to Kingston, they’d be stale. Unless, of course, I made a special trip across town.
She doesn’t want her mom to know about you, dude.
“Now, let me have a look at you.” I laugh, despite the storm going on inside me, and spread my arms. I spin to let her examine me, see that nothing is broken. She never was a lover of football and is always worried I’m going to get hurt. I love her for that, but football is my calling, and down the road, maybe teaching or coaching. A ridiculous image of Maize and me living in the city together, any city, while she practices law, and I teach, coming home to our own place afterward, careens through my brain. I shake it off, but don’t miss the way Grandma is studying me with those perceptive eyes of hers.
“Still in one piece, Grandma.” She narrows her blue eyes and gives me a once over.
“There’s something different.”
“Maybe it’s that I’m not a teenager anymore.” I laugh and brush off her concerns, not wanting her to delve any deeper.
“Nope, that’s not it. You keeping your grades up?”
“Always.”
Mom stands there quietly, her brow furrowed. She clearly can’t quite figure out what Grandma is seeing. Why would she? She’s never taken the time to really look below the surface where I was concerned. No, I was a means to an end, a pawn in her marriage plot.
I hold my arms out for Mom and Grandma. “Come on, let’s go have a cup of coffee and some cookies.”
I guide them into the kitchen and Grandma sits as Mom pours three cups of coffee, and I dig into the container of cookies like a five-year-old.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say when she sets my coffee in front of me.
She pats my arm. “Let me grab the cream.”
“I don’t take cream, remember? Just sugar, lots of sugar.”
“Oh right.” She hands the cream to Grandma and I smile to myself. Maize remembered I like my coffee with just sugar. She also went to extreme measures to make me the perfect breakfast. I still can’t believe
she did that. Then again, maybe I can. My stomach tightens. Jesus, how the hell am I going to go through the entire Christmas break without seeing her? I’m not, and she’s just going to have to deal with that.
No, dude, she doesn’t want you at her place.
To fucking bad.
“What’s her name?” Grandma asks, pulling my thoughts back as she drops two sugar cubes into her mug and stirs it.
My head lifts, the ridiculous smile on my face dissolving faster than her sugar. “What?”
Grandma takes a sip of coffee and looks at me over the rim. I grab a cookie and practically shove the whole thing into my mouth so I don’t have to talk, but she’s a patient woman. She’ll wait until I eat the whole container and then resume her questioning.
“Are you seeing someone, Christian?” Mom asks, a hopeful look in her eyes as I hold the container of cookies to her. She’s always pushing for me to get serious. I guess my single, play the field status doesn’t look good to her.
“Uh, no.” I give a fast shake of my head and set the container down when she holds her hand up, palm out. “Too busy with football and studying.”
Mom adjusts the silk scarf around her neck. “It’s not right, Christian. You should be thinking about your future wife and children at this point in your life.”
I almost choke on my cookie. Why the hell would she care? She trapped my father, for Christ’s sake. Does she think she’s going to be a better grandparent than she was a parent? Grandma makes a scoffing sound, and Mom casts her a quick glance. Like I said, Grandma never really was a fan of my mother, but she’s always been good to me.
“I am thinking about my future, Mom.” I should have joined Linc for that beer. But this conversation would have happened sooner or later, so I might as well get it out of the way now.
I exhale and go for another cookie, and brace myself. “Many of your friends are engaged now, Christian. Just last week Wanda told me that Megan was planning her spring wedding.”
“Oh yeah, good for Megan. Not everyone has to get engaged straight out of college. It’s not a crime to stay single.”
