Billionaire's Holiday (An Alpha Billionaire Christmas Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #17)

by Claire Adams

  “I think about that sometimes, too,” I said. “How’s Mom doing?”

  “About as well as you’d expect. Would you like to speak to her? Here she is.”

  He got off the phone before I could object; I could tell from the slight quiver in his voice that he was doing his best to hold his tears back. The only time I had ever seen my father cry had been at Marissa’s funeral.

  “I’m so glad you called,” my mother said when she got on the phone. “Thank you.”

  “Of course,” I said. “How are you?”

  “I’m trying to hold it together. Today is always hard. I planted some pansies at your sister’s gravesite. It looks very nice. There was some moss growing on the headstone, but I scraped that off.”

  “I’m sure it looks nice there, Mom,” I said.

  “We were there for a while. I know your father wanted to leave, but I just couldn’t. I know that doesn’t entirely make sense, since she’s not really there, but I always feel like I’m leaving her behind.”

  “I just don’t understand why this had to happen,” my mother sobbed. “Still, all these years later, and it hurts as much as it did when we first found out. She’d been clean for so long—why would she use again? She had such a bright future ahead of her. She’d turned a corner—the hard stuff was in the past. Wasn’t it?”

  “That’s what everyone thought, Mom. But obviously it wasn’t, at least not in her mind.”

  “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to understand it.”

  “You might not,” I said. “We’re all trying to do the best we can. I know it doesn’t always seem perfect, and things haven’t gone how anyone thought they would, but we’re all trying, Mom.”

  “You are more than anyone. I feel so guilty—”

  “Don’t.”

  “But I do. Everything that you’ve taken on, that you’ve had to deal with, it hasn’t been fair to you, and—”

  “Mom, I’m not doing anything I don’t want to, okay? We’re a family, right? Remember you were always telling us that? That we’re a family, we’re all on the same team, and sometimes that means stepping up and doing things for the team. That’s just how it goes.”

  “I just wonder sometimes how things might have been different if I hadn’t asked you to—” Abruptly, she stopped talking. My father must have come back into the room. “Thank you again for calling,” she said. “You know it means so much to me.”

  “I love you, Mom,” I said. “I better get going; I’ve got another patient to see in a few minutes. I’ll see you guys on Sunday, okay?”

  “Okay, sweetie,” she said. “I love you, too.”

  I got off the phone and then leaned forward, putting my arms on my desk, then resting my forehead on top of my arms.

  That evening, after Declan had a bath and I got him to bed, I went into my bedroom and opened the closet. It was a walk-in closet, with a shelf running along one of the walls, about eye level. Toward the back was a shoe box with things like my birth certificate, my passport, and a life insurance policy. I took the box down and opened it. Inside, underneath all my own personal belongings, was a folded piece of notebook paper. I took it out and unfolded it, the creases soft, the paper starting to yellow. My sister’s loopy handwriting in blue ink still seemed just as bright as it had been the day I’d found the note next to her already-cooling body.

  I just don’t want to live anymore. I know that’s not the right thing

  to say, the right way to feel, but it’s the truth. I’ve caused other

  people so much pain, and I’m so tired. I hope you can forgive me

  and not blame yourselves because there is nothing anyone could

  say that would change my mind. All I ever wanted was to be happy,

  but for some reason, despite all the privilege I was born into,

  I am unable to feeling anything but this overwhelming sadness.

  I forgive you, Cole, for what you did—

  I stopped reading. The letter continued for several more lines, and sometimes I was able to make it to the end, sometimes I was only able to read the first couple of words.

  I forgive you, Cole.

  As if she knew I’d be the one to find her.

  What she probably did not realize, though, was that I would take that letter and slip it into my pocket and never speak to anyone about it. Everything that had already been going on with Marissa had really taken its toll on my mother. Well, both my parents, but especially my mother. She had cultivated such a truly wonderful upbringing for the two of us, that something happening like this just would not be something she could cope with. Especially not my sister choosing to take her own life. My mother would take that personally.

  Keeping such a secret was hard. The decision had been made; there was no walking it back now. There had been a window of time after I had found Marissa that I could have come forward with the note, could have let my parents know the truth about what had happened, but that window had closed, and now, this was just one more secret I had to keep.

  I considered it a fair trade, though. I wasn’t supposed to know that my mother was on antidepressants—she had never told me—but my father had let me in on it. Yet, even the best antidepressants could not always keep the sadness at bay, and that was very much the case for my mother.

  I put the letter away. Perhaps someday I would throw it away—was there really a point in keeping it?

  I went downstairs and was standing at the sink, washing dishes, when I heard a knock at the door. I turned the water off and went to answer it, expecting it to be Ben. Allie stood there, a small bouquet of yellow and white flowers in her hands.

  “Hey,” she said. “I know it’s late, but I wanted to drop these by.”

  “Come on in,” I said, stepping back so she could come in.

  She handed me the flowers. “These are for you. I know that today must be hard, and that flowers aren’t going to make it any easier, but... I guess I just wanted you to know that I’m thinking about you.”

  “That’s really sweet of you,” I said. “Thank you.”

  I found a vase for the flowers and filled it with water and put them in. There was a tightness in my throat, and for a second, I thought that I was going to actually cry. But I took a deep breath and felt that ache in my throat ease.

  “I’m not going to stay long,” Allie said. “I just wanted to give you those.”

  But she took a step closer to me, and I went over to her, my arms going around her waist, pulling her toward me. She hugged me, and I closed my eyes and let out a long exhale. I felt exhausted, frankly, and though there was that part of me that was very much sexually attracted to her, right now, just standing there, her arms around me, felt as good as anything I could remember. I don’t know how long we stood there like that, but it was a while. When we finally pulled back, she had a slight smile on her face.

  “I’m going to go,” she said. “I don’t want to, but I’m going to.”

  “Then I’d at least like to do this before you do so.” And I leaned down and kissed her, lightly, once on the lips. She kissed me back, and though it didn’t involve any tongue like it had the first time, it was just as nice, and I knew that even though it wasn’t going to happen tonight, soon, soon we would sleep together.

  Now that the date had come and gone, I felt as though a bit of a weight had been lifted off my shoulders, at least until next June. Would it be like this forever? I certainly wasn’t expecting my mother to ever forget about Marissa, but it seemed as though the pain of her death was as fresh to my mother as it had been when it first happened.

  “This is looking better,” I said, standing up to survey the garden area that Allie had been working on. The previous neighbor, a woman named Bette, had kept the garden in good order for the first year we’d been here, but then her health started to decline, and as that happened, so did the state of the garden. I thought it was admirable that Allie was trying to get it going again, even though it was clear she didn’t really h
ave a clue what she was doing.

  “Look, I found a worm!” Declan said, proudly showing us the pale, wriggling thing held between his fingertips.

  “That’s a good sign,” I said. “Worms are good for the soil, so if there’s worms in here, that means the soil is good.”

  “He’s slimy.”

  I kneeled back down and yanked out a few more weeds that were trying to push through the chicken wire surrounding the plot.

  “Any idea what you’re going to plant in here?” I asked.

  Allie, who was a few feet away from me, also on her knees, her back to me and giving me a nice view, shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said. “I know I’m pretty late in the game here. When I drive to work, I’m always seeing people’s beautiful gardens, and they’re definitely bountiful and flourishing, and while in my head I think that’s what I’d like, I know the reality is probably going to be quite different. What’s something I can plant now in the middle of summer?”

  “Hmm,” I said. “I’m not so sure about flowers, but I know there are some vegetables you could do, like peppers or green beans.”

  “Maybe I should do that. You know what flower I really like though? Asters. I wonder if I could get some of those.”

  “Sounds like a trip to the garden center is in your near future.”

  “Can we go with you?” Declan asked immediately. “I like the big room with the glass and all the flowers. It feels like a tropical jungle!”

  “That’s the atrium,” I said. “It’s pretty cool, if you haven’t seen something like that before.”

  “You know what I’d like to do?” Allie said. “I’d like to have a cookout. Do you guys have plans tomorrow?”

  “Nothing in particular,” I said.

  “Then why don’t you guys come on over tomorrow afternoon? That grill has been sitting there on the deck, looking a little neglected.”

  “That sounds great.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Allie

  When I’d been growing up, one of my mother’s good friends had lived in an apartment that had a roof people could go on and hang out at; there were lounge chairs and a grill set up, and I did have good memories of hot, hazy summer nights, being atop that roof, looking out over the city while the smell of charcoal smoke wafted through the air.

  That was what I had in the back of my mind as I got ready for the cookout that afternoon. I’d never actually used a grill before, but this was a gas one, and earlier that morning, I had gone to the store and gotten a fresh propane tank, along with several bags of groceries.

  I stood at the kitchen counter and chopped vegetables for the pasta salad, and I thought about maybe stringing up some white Christmas lights outside. It was nowhere near Christmas, of course, but white Christmas lights looked good any time of the year, especially when they were outside, decorating the overhanging branches of a maple tree.

  Cole and Declan came over around 4, Declan carefully carrying a Tupperware container full of some sort of cookies.

  “I figured it’d be okay if we came over now,” Cole said. “I texted you a little while ago but didn’t hear back.”

  “You did? I didn’t hear my phone, sorry. Actually, I’m not even sure where my phone is; I think I might have left it in the car.” I looked at Declan. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

  “I helped Dad make these this afternoon,” he said. “Oatmeal chocolate chip. We made two batches. But the first one we had to throw away.”

  “You did?” I said. “How come?”

  Cole grinned. “I asked Declan to put the cinnamon in for me, but—”

  “Dad gave me the wrong thing! He didn’t give me cinnamon.”

  “I might have grabbed the cayenne by accident. Which we both realized upon sampling the batter.”

  I laughed. “Oh, my. That must’ve been a surprise.”

  “Well, better we figured it out then as opposed to later when we were all biting into one. I know in some places cayenne and chocolate goes together, but this was a little... overpowering.”

  “We had to go back to the store and everything,” Declan said. “Since we had to throw the first batch away. That was kind of sad. But we were very careful when we did it the second time and made sure to use all the right things.”

  “They certainly look delicious,” I said. “Do you want to put them on the table over there?”

  “These ones are much better,” Declan told me seriously. “We made sure to try the batter on these, too.”

  “What can we help you with?” Cole asked.

  “I think I’ve got things pretty much squared away,” I said. “This is actually the first cookout I’ve ever had.”

  “Are more people coming?” Declan asked.

  “Um...no,” I said. “Not this time. Maybe we should plan on doing another one, though, and we can invite more people, how does that sound?”

  “Okay! Can we go look at the garden?”

  “Of course.”

  We went out into the backyard, and Declan poked around in the garden for a little while, inspecting some of the flowers that I had bought, proclaiming that some had sprouted new blooms.

  “I think they’re happy here,” he said.

  “That’s good. I’m happy they like the garden we worked so hard on.”

  He examined a patch of soil. “I don’t see any of the seeds growing.”

  “Not yet. That usually takes a couple of weeks.”

  Declan then ran over to his backyard and retrieved a Frisbee, which we played for a while, and then he said he was hungry.

  My resolve with Cole was definitely wavering, which was becoming all the more apparent to me the more we hung out. What, exactly, had my plan been? I tried to dredge up the conversation that Declan had with me when he first told me about the bet. I tried to imagine the two of them sitting there, making that fucking ridiculous bet in the first place. Talking about me like I was some sort of conquest, something to be won or lost, not actually even a person. And yeah, there was a little flare of anger, but it was hard to be keep it fanned because I knew that’s not how Cole really was.

  “I suppose that means I should get the grill started then,” I said.

  Cole grinned. “You need any help?”

  “Is it that obvious I’m a complete amateur?”

  “Well... I did notice the propane tank isn’t hooked up yet.”

  “Okay,” I said, laughing. “You got me. I’ve only ever been to other cookouts; I’ve never actually hosted them. Maybe you could get that hooked up, and Declan, you can come inside and help me bring some of the stuff out?”

  Declan followed me inside, and I gave him the bags of hamburger and hot dogs buns to carry outside. I took the plate of hamburgers and the bag of hot dogs I’d gotten from the deli and brought them out, then I went back in and got the pasta salad. Cole had the propane tank all hooked up and the grill started.

  “Getting this thing nice and hot for ya,” Cole said. “Do you have any grill spray?”

  “Uh... no. Is that a requirement?”

  “Not required; the stuff might stick a little more. Or maybe not. The hot dogs won’t.”

  I interlaced my fingers and stretched my arms out straight. “All right, all right,” I said. “Stand back, everyone. I am about to impress you all with my grill skills.”

  “Master griller and a poet,” Cole said, nudging Declan. “Let’s watch and learn.”

  I took a deep breath. I could do this—all that was really required was put the burgers and the dogs on the grill, let them cook on one side, flip them over, let them finish on the other, and voila! Right? Now, though, with Cole and Declan right there watching, I felt a little wave of nervousness, like I was going to somehow mess this up.

  I took the plastic wrap off the burgers and placed them down on the grill, the meat sizzling.

  “Can I have a hamburger and a hot dog?” Declan asked.

  Cole looked at him. “You think you can eat that much?”

 
; “I can.”

  “I better do a good job on these, then,” I said. I was less concerned about the hot dogs; they were already cooked through, it was just a matter of making sure they didn’t get too charred.

  “Surprise!”

  I froze, spatula poised above the grill. It was my mother, and behind her, was Bill.

  “I never heard back from you, so we just decided to take the chance and drive up here and see if you were home! Which you are, apparently.”

  “I kind of had plans,” I said tightly. I glanced over at Cole, who was looking at them curiously. “And I don’t even know where my phone is.”

  “That’s silly of you. What if there was some sort of emergency and someone needed to get in touch with you? You should have your phone on you.”

  I tried not to roll my eyes. “Okay,” I said. “So, you’re here. Yeah. Surprise.”

  “So nice to see you again,” my mother said, going over to Cole. “And you too,” she said, looking at Declan. “This is my husband, Bill.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Bill said, shaking Cole’s hand. He smiled at Declan. “And how old are you?”

  I tried to tune him out. It felt like my shoulders were up to my ears, and I took a deep breath. Was this really fucking happening? Had she really just driven all the way up here with him, without even talking to me first? What if I hadn’t been here? What if I had gone away for the weekend or something? I knew the answer to that already, though—if I hadn’t been home when she got up here, she would’ve looked online and found the fanciest restaurant in the area and had Bill take her out there.

  “What are you making?” my mother asked. “I didn’t know you knew how to grill.”

  “I do know how to cook, Mom,” I said.

  She reached over and squeezed my shoulders. “You look tense,” she said. “You need a massage. There’s probably not a good spa around here, is there?”