Friends with Benefits: A Friends to Lovers Holiday Romance (A Different Kind of Love Book 4)

by Liz Durano

  I try to keep up the best I can, relieved that I don’t have to consult my phone to know that dopamine is a feel-good hormone and that Alzheimer’s disease is a condition characterized by mental decline and dementia. Caitlin is animated as she speaks, her hands moving in front of her, slender fingers gracefully illustrating one point and then another. And then there’s her laughter, light and happy.

  So Caitlin.

  “Are you going to stay there after graduation?” I ask when she finishes talking to take a bite out of her omelet. We’re at one of my favorite places to hang out, a small cafe a few blocks from my apartment that’s known for their crepes.

  “I don’t know yet. I received an offer from the university hospital but I was hoping to get one closer to home.”

  “That would be wonderful if you could work here, wouldn’t it?”

  Caitlin nods, her eyes sparkling. “Yes, it would. Then I’d be close to everyone again. That means I can bug you more than I already do.”

  “You can bug me anytime, Cait,” I say, grinning. “I thought you already knew that.”

  We finish our breakfast half an hour later and make our way to the Union Square Holiday Market, a European-style winter market known for its unique gifts by local craftsman and artists.

  Barely noon, the holiday market is already filled with New Yorkers doing last-minute shopping like us. It’s where I usually find gifts for the O’Halloran family, from hand-painted silk scarves and fair trade wool socks for Mr. and Mrs. O to board games for Jordan and felted owls for Caitlin who used to be crazy about owls for years although I’m not sure if she is anymore.

  “I can’t believe it’s been years since I’ve been here. It’s even better than the last time I remember it.” She grabs my hand, leading me toward a booth selling art drawn on old book pages. “We’re definitely going to need more than two pairs of hands to carry everything back!”

  Even without makeup, Caitlin looks amazing, her red dress peeking from underneath her black wool coat. She’s always been a stunning beauty, words I’d never say out loud in front of her brother. With her flaming red hair, porcelain skin and dazzling smile, she’s a sight for sore eyes and always finds a way to make me smile.

  I remember my simmering anger at my father when I first moved into the spare bedroom in the O’Halloran home, not knowing who to blame for his decision to leave us. While Jordan’s solution was to get me out of the house and keep me busy with sports, Caitlin filled the silence with her drawings that she’d stick to my walls, usually owls in all shapes, colors, and sizes. While she may have been too young then to know what it felt like to be abandoned, I never forgot her little gestures of friendship.

  We stop by a booth selling personalized Christmas decorations and Caitlin finds one that’s stamped with the year and the words, Campbell’s First Christmas.

  “I think I’ll add ‘tree’ here,” she says, pointing to the space under the word, Christmas. “That way, it’s going to mark the first time you put up your very first Christmas tree. What do you think?”

  “I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

  “Awesome! We’re going to have a wonderful time, Cam! I just know it.”

  I’d long given up arguing with Caitlin about having a tree at my apartment only because she’s right. I have to have a tree, at least, even if it’s just for this year, and I have a feeling that this one will just be overloaded with so many decorations it probably will fall over from the weight.

  After half an hour of walking around and surveying what’s on sale, we set out to tackle our list. The first on my list is Piper, my god daughter who also happens to be Caitlin’s as well. I didn’t even have to think twice about it when Jordan asked me. It was an automatic yes even if I had to take a series of classes about my responsibilities as Piper’s godfather. I’ve even done my share of babysitting, the usual game controllers we used to hold on to from the days when Jordan and I used to hang out have now been replaced with baby bottles and teething toys.

  “What do you think of this?” I hold up a crocheted doll with hair made of reddish orange yarn. “There are no buttons for her eyes and nothing that’s bound to come loose. And it’s a redhead. It should be safe for a baby, right?”

  “That’s the cutest thing, Cam! And perfect! I think it goes perfectly with this one.” She picks up another doll from the basket and holds it up. It’s a crocheted boy doll with black yarn for hair although you only see the ends as it peeks out of a patterned beanie.

  I hold the girl doll next to the one she’s holding. “They’re a perfect pair.”

  “Just like the two of you,” says the woman behind the counter. “You guys look so cute together.”

  “Oh, we’re not dating.” Caitlin says at the same time I mutter that we’re just friends.

  “I’m sorry if I put you two on the spot,” the young woman says, grinning. “Doesn’t mean you guys don’t look cute together though.”

  I clear my throat. “Did you make these or are they imported from somewhere?”

  “Oh no, I made all the dolls in the booth!” she says, laughing. “I have an online store and I usually sell patterns but I like making them for the holidays and as special orders.” She points to her business cards next to some of the smaller dolls. I take a card and slip it into my coat pocket.

  “Are you getting that one?” Caitlin points to the doll I’m still holding. “I think she’d be perfect for Piper.”

  “Yes, I am. I want to get her some baby clothes, too.”

  “Oh, and let’s not forget one of those Baby’s First Christmas ornaments,” Caitlin adds as I hand both dolls to the woman behind the counter and pay for them. Somehow, I don’t want the doll I picked out to be lonely, not when Caitlin picked the perfect match for it complete with the crocheted beanie.

  Two hours later, we make it back to my apartment, arms laden with bags filled with tree ornaments and presents for everyone on our list except each other—unless Caitlin managed to find something for me when I wasn’t looking. In the past, she’s given me a tie clip, a pair of cufflinks, and an old poetry book she found at an estate sale in LA. This year, I guess it’s the idea of a real Christmas tree inside my apartment and that personalized ornament.

  Then it’s a trek back down so we can find the perfect tree at the tree lot three blocks away. Caitlin is relentless but I’m not complaining. It’s the first day of my holiday vacation and I have nothing else planned anyway. I haven’t even thought about work at all, no financial models to make, no reports to check.

  At the lot, we’re mistaken for a couple shopping for our first tree together but I let it slide. So does Caitlin—or maybe she didn’t hear the attendant. And maybe it’s just easier that way. No need to explain that there’s no way we’re together for she’s my best friend’s baby sister, someone totally off-limits. But why do I feel a tug in my chest every time I look at her?

  We settle for a five-foot Fraser Fir and although the attendant promises to deliver it within the hour, Caitlin insists we can both carry it home with her holding one end and me holding the other. And we do. She’s that determined to get a proper Christmas tree in my apartment and I’m glad at least one of us is that determined.

  Once inside, we set out to decorate the tree and by the time we’re done two hours later, the living room is a mess of wrappers, ribbons, and tinsel. I’m exhausted but even I have to admit that the tree looks great against the backdrop of the city with the Empire State Building in the distance. Caitlin even found an online station that played holiday songs the entire time and I didn’t mind it one bit.

  On the drive home, we hardly talk. Maybe she’s tired from all the things we did during the day or maybe we just ran out of things to say. But I can sense something else. It reminds me of the low that follows after an intense high, when you’re having so much fun but life happens and you have to come back down. Maybe that’s what’s going on… or maybe not.

  “I really had a wonderful time today, Cam. Thanks for
rescuing me last night,” she says as I make a right from Queens Boulevard toward Forest Hills.

  “You’re welcome.”

  “And thanks for putting up with me today,” she adds. “Sometimes I forget that you need your space, too.”

  “Don’t say that, Cait. If I felt I had to put up with you, I would have told you,” I say. “Actually I had a lot of fun today. If you weren’t there, I’d have gone to the gym, checked my email and that would have been the end of that. I probably would have ended up working.”

  She grins. “I know, but just in case.”

  “Cait, it’s really no big deal,” I say. “Probably my only complaint would be having Roxy pick a better date for you next time. If you decide to go for a second try.”

  She laughs, pulling out her phone and glancing at the display. “Yeah, she’s been dying to find out what happened so I guess she doesn’t know that Malcolm bailed out on me.”

  “Maybe you can let her know your preferences or something,” I add, parking the car in front of their house. “Maybe she’ll find you a better match that way. What type of guy do you normally like?”

  Caitlin thinks for a few moments as I park the car in their driveway. “I don’t know. I like them to be smart and funny, I guess.”

  I chuckle. “You’ve got to be more specific than that. Serial killers can be smart and funny, too.”

  She gives a half shrug. “I guess someone I can be myself with.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Does tall, dark, and handsome with six-pack abs count? Someone who can make me laugh and tell me things I don’t know and yet still be interesting. Someone who can cook because I sure can’t cook even if my life depends on it, and someone who won’t mind it if I’m not as tidy as most women.”

  “Now that last one could be a deal breaker for most guys,” I say as she glares at me. “Just kidding.”

  “Someone who is classy and knows how to have fun.”

  “That’s a good list of qualities to start with, Cait,” I say. “You should tell Roxy that. Maybe she can find someone who fits those qualifications.”

  She peers at me curiously. “You do know I was just kidding about the second chance at matchmaking, right? Because I sure as heck don’t have any time to date anyone.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I just want to graduate and get a job first,” she replies. “That means I need to focus on getting a job instead of playing around with some guy.”

  “How does that saying go? All work and no play makes Caitlin a dull girl.”

  “So? I don’t mind being dull. Better be dull and rich than pretty and poor. Although I’m far from rich until I get a decent job.” She reaches for the door handle but I stop her, grabbing her wrist that’s closest to me.

  “Hey, where’d that come from? You never used to worry about money and all that.”

  “I don’t know, Cam. I guess it’s just seeing everyone around me making it. They have their own apartments, their own jobs. No need for an allowance from Mom and Dad... that kind of thing,” she says. “Look at you.”

  “What about me?”

  “You’ve got your own apartment and it’s in Manhattan. Look at Addison–“

  “Addison is not you, Cait. She’s also older than you by what? Seven years?” I say. “Most of my reasons for having my own place in the city has to do with work. Some are selfish, others are more personal reasons that I’m not willing to share with anyone. But other than that, such things don’t come without a price.”

  “I don’t know, Cam. I guess at twenty-five, I feel that I shouldn’t be a student forever even if I am working toward my Masters. I guess it’s just hitting me, that’s all. Seeing everyone at the party last night so successful and talking about their bonuses which I can only dream about. Malcolm said his bonus was a hundred grand. Who gets a hundred grand?”

  People like me who don’t have time to put up a tree because it’ll only remind them of an empty apartment, I almost tell her. “I’m sorry Malcolm had to brag about his bonus,” I say instead. “He’s a dick and honestly, Cait, I’m so glad you ended up with me last night.”

  She smiles. “I am, too. It was meant to be, I guess.”

  “Yes, it was.”

  She squeezes my hand. “Anyway, thanks for the ride home. You don’t have to walk me to the door, by the way.”

  “The hell I’m not.” I push my door open and step outside. “I’ll carry these inside for you.”

  She grabs her coat from her lap as I open the door for her. “I just figured it would save you time, that’s all.”

  I don’t say anything as she steps out of the SUV. Grabbing the shopping bags from the back seat, I follow her to the front door. I can almost feel my happiness from the day go down with each step, like a tank running out of gas. But as she slips the keys into the lock, I also know it’s not exactly that. Why does it feel like the end of an amazing date even though we weren’t exactly on a date?

  “Hey, Cait?”

  She whips around to face me. “Yeah?”

  “I’ve got tickets to Coriolanus two nights from now and I was wondering if you’d like to come with me.”

  “Coriolanus? As in the hottest ticket in town Coriolanus? The one with Ashe Hunter, the British actor?”

  I nod. “Yeah. That Coriolanus. My boss can’t make it so he gave it to me last night before he left the party.”

  Caitlin peers at me suspiciously. “And you haven’t asked anyone else to go with you yet?”

  “No, but I’m asking you, silly,” I reply, laughing. “You wanna come with me or should I call someone–”

  “Are you kidding? Of course I want to go! I’m not about to say no to Coriolanus.”

  “That’s good then. Maybe we can have a few drinks before we go.”

  She nods. “Sure.”

  “Does six work for you?”

  Her eyes narrow. “This isn’t like a date, is it? I mean, just to be sure. You’re not asking me out on a date.”

  A lump forms in my throat. I never really thought about it that way but if she’d rather not see it as a date, then fine. “Not if don’t want me to. We can call it a no-date date, if that makes you feel better.”

  “That sounds... corny. But for now, it works. No-date date it is then.” She turns away from me to push the door open and step inside. As I set the shopping bags on the floor, I can’t help but grin when I see the Christmas tree in the far corner, the space underneath it spilling over with presents, most of them with pink ribbons, and I’m willing to bet they’re likely Piper’s, the first O’Halloran grandchild. I inhale, taking in the scents of the home I once lived in for two years.

  Suddenly memories come rushing in, of Christmas morning when the three of us would rush downstairs to open our presents and we’d show off what we got while Mr. and Mrs. O’Halloran laughed at our exuberance. We were no longer kids then—Jordan and I seniors in high school while Caitlin was in middle school—but it didn’t matter. Caitlin and I used to be in charge of preparing traditional hot chocolate together, complete with semi-sweet chocolate and whipped cream. There was no judgment in the O’Halloran home.

  “Hey, you okay?” Caitlin’s voice breaks through my reverie and I nod.

  “Yeah, I’m just amazed at your parents’ tree. It’s like a Hallmark movie come to life.”

  “I didn’t know you watched Hallmark movies, Campbell.”

  “I don’t but one of my ex-girlfriends did,” I reply. “She cried over everything.”

  “Oh.” Caitlin bites her lower lip, looking down at the floor. “So, are you seeing anyone right now?”

  I pick up the day’s mail that’s sitting on the floor next to the door and hand it to her. “Nah.”

  “Not even dating?”

  “Not seriously.”

  “So, casual dating then?” She sets the mail on top of the console.

  “Maybe. Maybe not. Why do you ask?”

  “Nothing,” Caitlin replies quickly, busyi
ng herself with the mail before setting it back down.

  “Well, I better get going.” I turn back toward the door. “I’ll see you on Thursday at six?”

  “Yup, Thursday at six.”

  I do my best to walk down to my car without looking behind me but I can’t help myself. When I do, I catch Caitlin outside the front door watching me. She lifts her hand in a subtle wave as I get behind the wheel and start the Range Rover, doing my best to act cool. I don’t even know why I have to work hard at looking cool but somehow, I do.

  Don’t look back, man. Don’t look back.

  But I look anyway, this time through my rearview mirror as I drive away. But the front landing is empty.

  Five

  I don’t know what made my mood dip so quickly after Campbell parked the Range Rover in front of the house but I’m glad that he was quick to lift my spirits up the way he always does. But I also know part of the reason why. I hated that our time together was over so soon. I wanted to be with him all the way through evening and until the next day. It used to be so easy to hang out with him but that was before I saw him with just his towel on, before I smelled his scent on the bathrobe and his pillows. Or maybe it’s just being alone again during the holiday that’s finally getting to me.

  I spot my parents’ car from my bedroom window drive up the driveway fifteen minutes later. I’d just brought up the bags that Campbell had brought in and slipped on a pair of sweats. I meet them at the door, helping them bring in the presents and setting them on the space where my own bags from the holiday market had been.

  “Where’ve you guys been?”

  “We spent the night at your Aunt Millie’s. No one wanted to quit playing pinochle,” Dad says as he helps Mom with her coat.

  “And then there was the rain,” Mom adds.

  “Didn’t you get our message? We didn’t want you getting worried spending last night alone in the house.” Dad hangs Mom’s coat behind the door and shrugs off his own.