The Christmas Surprise

by R. R. Banks

  “Yes, it's our date night, but that doesn't mean it always has to end with sex,” I say. “We don't always have to do everything by the numbers, James.”

  I feel myself trembling with emotion – anger being the primary one. The emotion of seeing Caleb is still sweeping through me. The emotion of running into him again after all this time. After what he did to me. But I can't explain any of that to James. Instead, I do the only thing I can do – lie.

  “I'm not feeling well,” I say. “I think something at dinner is disagreeing with me.”

  “No, I don't accept that, Abby,” he says, shaking his head in disbelief. “Because you had the eggplant. You always get the eggplant and never have any issues. You love the eggplant parmesan.”

  Love was a strong word for how I felt about that particular dish, but I'm not going to stand there and argue about something so stupid and trivial.

  “Okay, maybe I have a flu coming on then, I don't know,” I say. “All I know is that I feel sick and would rather not –”

  A flash of anger crosses James' face as he looks at me. His eyes darken and a flush creeps into his cheeks.

  “This isn't about you feeling sick,” he says. “This is about him, isn't it? That guy we ran into on the street? The guy you used to date back in high school?”

  “What are you –”

  “I saw the way he looked at you. And don't think I didn't notice the way you nearly fainted when you saw him,” he says. “This is all about him, isn't it?”

  His voice rises and is tinged with heat. With anger. And I'm taken completely aback by it. It's something I hardly ever experience with James because he is usually always so even keeled, put-together, and buttoned up. He doesn't have emotional outbursts like this. Not all that often, anyway. But when he has had an outburst, they've never, ever been directed at me.

  Not until now, anyway. And as much anger as seeing Caleb had stirred up within me, James was doing a pretty damn good job of stirring up even more.

  “Really? You're going there?” I snap. “You're going to yell at me because I said I'm not in the mood?”

  Yes, I know my boyfriend has issues. I know he sticks to a routine and is pretty rigid about it. And I also know that by breaking that routine, we were likely going to argue about it. But there is absolutely no way in hell I can have sex with him tonight. Not after seeing Caleb in the flesh for the first time in twelve years. Not with all the memories and emotion it dredged up within me. I'm so busy trying to hold myself together that I didn't have room for anything else at the moment. I certainly don't have any desire to have sex tonight.

  At one point in time, seeing Caleb would have excited me beyond imagination. Seeing him now though, is an absolute libido killer.

  “No, I'm yelling at you because you still have feelings for him,” James spits. “You do, don't you?”

  “What?” I scoff, turning away from James so he can't see the lie I'm sure is painted all over my face. “You're being silly, James. I haven't seen Caleb in twelve years. And after what he did, after everything he put me through, why would I? How could I –?”

  “Oh, so that's Caleb, huh? The infamous Caleb?” he asks as comprehension dawns upon his face. “Brilliant. I should have known.”

  “James, you're being ridic –”

  He cuts me off by grabbing my arm, forcing me to turn around and look at him. He's holding me tight and squeezing, his fingers digging into my flesh, making me cry out in pain.

  “Let me go!” I shout. “You're hurting me, asshole.”

  He lets go of my arm and a look of horror crosses his face. I can tell he didn't realize what he was doing and feels bad about it. James isn't an abusive man. I know that he'd never hurt me intentionally, and I can see that he feels guilty.

  “I'm sorry, Abby,” he says, his voice quieter this time. “You know I don't handle things like this well. I don't handle – change well.”

  “No, you don't,” I say, my body still filled with rage.

  I want to cry so badly. Or maybe punch something. There are so many different and conflicting emotions swirling around in me that I can't even begin to keep up. I'm trembling with rage, but not because of what just happened with James – but because of everything.

  Seeing Caleb brought so many memories rushing back to the forefront of my mind and heart. Memories that I quite obviously hadn't dealt with as thoroughly as I'd hoped. Memories that should remain buried. Forever.

  But it was too late to worry about what I did or didn't do. Should or shouldn't have done. All I could do when things got really sticky for me was – as my therapist counseled me time and time again – to deal with what was on my plate right in front of me.

  “But your inability to handle change well isn't my problem, James,” I hissed. “My problem is that I shouldn't be forced to fuck you simply because that's what you're used to. Because that's what you expect thanks to your precious little schedule and routine.”

  Yes, what I said is harsh. Yes, I used the F-word – a word I know James hates with a fiery passion. It's a word I don't often use, but this time, I used it on purpose. I did it to bother him – and for that, I know I should feel bad. But I don't. Not even the slightest twinge of guilt. And it's because in that moment, I realize that I'm done. I'm done with everything – his routines, the date nights that bore me to tears. Done with the sex that leaves me unsatisfied and yearning for more.

  After everything I've been through, I know that part of the reason I stay with guys longer than I should is simply because I fear I might end up old and alone one day. I always find some rationale for not ending a relationship when I know it's not going anywhere.

  But in that moment, as I stare at James, an important realization hits me. In that moment, I realize that I'd rather end up old alone than here. With him. Or with anybody who makes me feel the way James makes me feel. It's not all his fault, I know that it's my own baggage coming into play, but I just can't keep doing this, day after day. I can't keep putting on a fake smile and pretending everything is okay when I'm screaming inside. I can't.

  I won't.

  Once upon a time, my life was fun. My life had been fulfilling. I remember a time when I enjoyed myself and my life. I experienced new things, tried new foods. I'd go on spontaneous date nights and was always surprised and happy with our impromptu little adventures. Once upon a time, I wasn't afraid to try new things and I certainly never settled for less than what I thought I deserved because I was afraid or complacent.

  Of course, that old life – that sense of optimism and wonder – had been when I was with Caleb. Back then, I truly believed that was how our life – our life together – was going to be. I was realistic enough to know that not every day was going to be sunshine, roses, and fireworks. But I also knew that together, he and I could have a fun, happy, and fulfilling life.

  But then, he vanished and everything changed. My world – the vision of the world I thought we were building together – came crumbling down. It lay there in a fiery heap and I was forced to pick through the wreckage. Which I did. Or thought I did. I thought I had myself handled. Squared away. And under control.

  But seeing Caleb again reignited something inside of me. Maybe it woke me up from that years long nightmare I'd been trapped in. And between the emotions seeing him again stirred, as well as everything that's happening with James right now, it brought me to several powerful realizations. I'm not happy. I'm settling for less than I want. Less than I deserve. And I'm tired of it. Tired of settling for less because I'm scared of my own shadow. And something has to change.

  I might find that sense of optimism and wonder I used to have again. Maybe, someday. Not with Caleb certainly, but maybe with someone else. Somebody worthy of me. And if I don't find it? I guess I'm going to have to get used to being happy with my own company.

  Because I deserve to be happy. And right now, I'm about as far from happy as a person can get.

  I look at James and can see the mixture of confusion, frustr
ation, and fear on his face. He's so used to everything going by the numbers, that now that I've gone completely off script, he's not sure what to do with himself. And like he said, he doesn't handle change well.

  “I'm done, James,” I say softly as I walk into my living room. “I'm done. This – thing – between us isn't going to work out. It's over.”

  “I'm sorry,” he says, a flutter of panic in his voice. “We don't have to have sex tonight. And moving forward, I can be more – flexible. I'll learn to adapt to change better. I can do that, Abby. I can do that for you.”

  I can tell that me breaking up with him pains him greatly. He's absently picking at his fingernails – something he never does – and he looks stressed to the max over the change in plans. Over the change in our relationship status. But he's trying. God, he was trying.

  But it's not enough. It's – as the old saying goes – much too little, much too late.

  “No, I'm done. I'm sorry, James,” I say, turning to look directly at him, to let him see the finality in my eyes. “We're done. I'm breaking up with you.”

  “No,” he says, fidgeting with his hands now. “No, we can fix this, Abby. You can't break up with me –”

  “I can. And I am,” I say at last. “I'm sorry, James. But you deserve better. And frankly, so do I. We're not happy and we're not very good together.”

  “I'm very happy,” he says. “And I think we're great together.”

  I know that in his mind, he is happy. Because to him, settling down and following the same routine day after day was what made him happy. Comfortable. Change is the enemy and rigid routine is the friend that needs to be tightly embraced.

  God forbid I want something else – something more – right?

  “But the truth is, I'm not happy, James. I haven't been for some time now,” I say. “And I'm sorry to hurt you. That's the last thing I want. But believe me when I tell you that this is for the best.”

  “No, Abby,” he says, shaking his head. “I won't let you. No, you can't do this. You have to be a part of my life.”

  “I can do this, and I am, James” I say. “Please, show yourself out.”

  I turn to walk away from him, done with the conversation and done with the entire evening. All I want in that moment is to soak in a hot tub and have a glass of wine or twelve. But before I get very far, he grabs my arm, this time tighter than before. He squeezes, a look of pure rage in his eyes and suddenly, I'm afraid of what he might to. I struggle in his grasp, fight against him, trying to break free. But he's strong. Stronger than most people would believe.

  “Let me go, James,” I say, trying to make my voice as cold as possible. “And please, leave before I call the cops. Because I will. I swear to God I'll call them.”

  I'm shaking with fear, but also with a healthy amount of anger. He's just not getting it, and it's like he somehow feels entitled to me. Like I'm his property. His possession. Like I somehow owe him something. All of which washes away any sense of guilt I might have over upsetting his routing by breaking up with him.

  “We'll talk about this, Abby,” he says, letting go of my arm. “Please, let's talk about this. This can be fixed and everything will be okay.”

  I just want him out of my house, so I appease him by nodding. I agree with his demand even though deep down I know it was over. I am totally and completely done.

  “Fine. Whatever you want, James,” I say. “Can I please just be left alone for now though? I'd really like some time to myself.”

  I know it's hard for him, but he leaves my home without another word. As soon as he's gone, my heart breaks. But it doesn't break for James. Oh no. It breaks for Caleb.

  He's here. In Sheridan Falls. And he didn't even call me. Didn't even try to give me the answers or explanations that he owes me. Tears fill my eyes, and all the hurt about the way he vanished, dropped out of my life, all those years ago comes rushing back to the surface again like a horde of malevolent spirits bent upon my mental and emotional destruction.

  I crawl into bed and turn off the light, enjoying the peace and quiet – not to mention the knowledge that I'm free from James. Free from his mundane, rigid routines. Yet, even though on some levels, I'm celebrating the end of my relationship, I'm mourning the loss of my relationship from all those years ago.

  It almost doesn't seem fair. It certainly doesn't seem right.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Caleb

  I'm still feeling a little rattled by running into Abby on the street like that. Maybe, I should have anticipated it. Planned for it. But honestly, I didn't think running into her in a town as large as Sheridan Falls had become, was even really a remote possibility. Which was obviously, more than stupid on my part. Clearly, I'd let myself get so caught up in the nostalgia of the place and the unexpected wave of good vibes, I'd let my guard down. Big time.

  Honestly, the only thing on my mind was having a few drinks, a few laughs, and maybe snagging a piece of ass for the night. And as I looked at Jessica – at the gorgeous woman she'd become – at least I could say, “Mission Accomplished” on that bit of it.

  Jessica sidles up to me, pressing her firm body against mine, and clasps her hands behind my neck. She looks into my eyes and gives me a lascivious little smile.

  “You okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah, I'm good,” I say.

  Compartmentalize. Focus on what's in front of you and everything else – shove it off to the side to deal with later. Focus on the task at hand – and only the task at hand – Marine.

  My inner dialogue is working hard again, trying to get my mind sharp. That inner dialogue is the voice of my instincts and it had seemingly fallen silent once I stepped back into Sheridan Falls. And for some reason, I hadn't even noticed. Not until now, anyway.

  Losing my instincts is a dangerous thing. Makes me sloppy, unprepared. More likely to get caught flat-footed and with my goddamn pants down around my ankles. Which is exactly what had just happened out there. In combat, that shit would have gotten me killed a hundred times over.

  Thankfully, the streets of Sheridan Falls aren't a battlefield. And the only dangerous thing out there is a scorned ex-girlfriend. Though – I know her dad taught her how to shoot, which kind of, sort of makes her dangerous if she's of a mind to take my head off.

  Jessica looks at me, giving me an inscrutable expression. “You sure?” she asks. “I mean, if you're trippin' out about Abby, we don't have to –”

  I cut her off with a long, deep kiss. Our tongues swirl together and I feel her melt against me. Her firm tits and tight little body feel terrific pressed to my body. I run my hands through her hair and down her back as we kiss and she lets out soft moans of pleasure.

  She claws at my back as I pulled her to me even tighter, letting her feel my hard cock pressing against her belly. She slides her hand down and starts to stroke me through my jeans. I make a low moan of approval and she squeezes me harder.

  Picking her up, I set her down on the desk that sat against the wall across from the bed. I lean in and kiss her again, running my hands up under her skirt and up her thighs. Her breath catches in her throat as my fingertips graze the warm, wet center of her beneath her panties.

  Pushing them aside, I slip a finger into her, sliding it as deep as I can possibly go. Jessica moans and bites her bottom lip as I start working my finger in and out of her. A second finger joins the first and I start banging her a little harder and a little faster.

  Jessica digs her nails into my shoulders and grinds herself against my hand, forcing my fingers deeper into her.

  “Caleb,” she gasps. “Oh yes, baby.”

  She's stroking me through my jeans, grasping and squeezing at my hard cock as I work my fingers in and out of her. She's dripping wet and her breathing is already growing ragged. Seems like it's been a little while since she's seen any action.

  She kisses me hard and I feel her body tensing up. A moment later, she throws her head back and moans loudly as an orgasm tears through her. W
ith my fingers still inside of her, Jessica is trembling, lost in the waves of pleasure that are washing over her.

  She catches her breath a moment later and looks me in the eye, biting her bottom lip, a mischievous look on her face. She climbs down off of the desk and drops to her knees in front of me. As she works at my belt, she looks up at me and smiles.

  “Back in the day, I would have given anything to do this for you,” she purrs.

  “Back in the day, I would have given anything for you to do it,” I laugh.

  “Well, I'm glad we can finally make this happen then.”

  She leans forward and traces the tip of her tongue around the head of my cock. I moan as she slides it down one side of my shaft and then back up the other. Her hand is wrapped tight around me and she's squeezing me hard. It feels good – better than good – as she starts to stroke me up and down.

  I moan as she leans forward again and takes the head of my cock into her mouth, licking and sucking at the same time she's stroking me. Jessica removes her hand and takes the entire length of me into her mouth. I groan and run my hands through her hair as she starts moving her head up and down, harder and faster, cupping and squeezing my balls at the same time.

  God, she's fucking good at this. The way she's using her mouth and hands is driving me absolutely insane. Not wanting her to get me off too quickly, I step back and pull her to her feet. I give her a long, fiery kiss and then push her down on the bed. I drop to my knees and pull her to the edge, putting her legs up over my shoulders.

  “You naughty boy, you,” she purrs.

  “You have no idea.”

  I lean forward and bury my face deep between her thighs. I run the tip of my tongue along her lips, making her shudder. Then I tease her clit with my tongue, licking and sucking gently. Her breath catches in her throat and she winds her fingers in my hair, groaning as I slide my tongue deep inside of her.

  I relish the taste of her, love the feeling of her juices upon my lips. I lick the warm, wet center of her harder and faster, drawing moans and groans of pleasure from her.