"Neither is being in diner with a complete stranger in the middle of the night. At least it's very diner-y."
"True." He smiled. "So what do you do that requires you to work on Christmas Eve?"
I cocked my head at him as I took a long sip of my soda. He said he knew who I was, but he didn't know where I worked? I wanted to keep my cool, not only because I didn't want Aidan to know he was spooking me, but because I was starving and I really wanted my sandwich. I could make a break after I ate. "I'm a sales lead at an underwear store."
"Do you like that?" he asked as he dunked the teabag carefully into the mug of hot water. Instead of looking at him, I watched the string go up and down.
I almost laughed. "Not really." My mind flashed back to the throng of impatient last minute shoppers that afternoon, who’d thought it was some sort of conspiracy that their top choices were long gone, wrapped up under someone else's tree.
"Then why do you do it?" It was a perfectly good question. For someone who lived in fantasy land.
"Oh, I don't know. Survival, I guess." My dinner came out and I dove in for a fry. I loved diner fries so much.
"How's that going for you?" he asked without any hint of sarcasm.
"Pretty shitty." I concentrated on the activity around him. If I looked at him, I'd cry again. I didn't want to think about what got me here right now. I just wanted to enjoy this damn tuna melt since I might not see any more food until I got back to work in more than twenty four hours.
"Where will you go after this, Kyndra?" Aidan brought my attention right back to him. He seemed legitimately concerned, but since he was so much more adult than me, it felt like judgment.
"I don't know," I whispered, pulling my napkin out of my nap to dab the tears from my eyes. I sniffled and looked back up at him, forcing myself to smile.
“You don’t have any plans for tomorrow?” Aidan didn’t seem to understand what I was saying.
“No.” My answer was sharp. Sharper than he deserved. Maybe Aidan deserved the explanation I refused to give everyone else, even if it was only so I didn’t have to spend the rest of the night on the sidewalk. "I messed everything up. I pushed everyone away, but I didn't want to be alone."
"You wanted someone to save you," he said, almost to himself more than to me. "From yourself."
All I could do was nod. The waitress brought me another soda, getting in and out quickly. It was no secret she'd chosen an awkward moment to check on us.
"I don't need to be saved." I focused all my energy on my bravado. "And I don't need to be judged."
"I'm not judging you. I know what it's like to be an outsider." His expression softened. “You seem like an old soul.”
”I’ve heard that before.” Maybe he did understand after all. "I just didn't want to explain why after eighteen years, I suddenly had to make new plans on Christmas. I didn't want to watch some other happy family celebrate and open presents. I want to mourn what I've lost. I just wish everyone would let me."
"Is that really what you want?"
"No." I was going to cry again. "I just want it all to go away. I want to hide from the world until Christmas is over."
I didn't know what to think about this night. This strange man knew so much about me, but nothing about me. And somehow, he was the only person I’d been able to tell the truth. Was he like one of those people on late night TV, reading my facial expressions to guess my situation? I mean, it was all pretty obvious. I only liked to think no one else knew I was a mess.
"You can come with me." Aidan put his hand up as my face faded and I was about to protest. "I won't hurt you. I know my promise doesn't mean much right now. You don't know me. But it's a warm, safe place to stay. I already know you don't have a better offer." He looked down at my plate. "And you can bring your leftovers."
I brightened. Sure, I was scared out of my mind, but I think I trusted him. Through this whole ordeal, I liked to think I’d learned to read people well. Hopefully Aidan didn’t disappoint me. And to be perfectly honest, I’d done a lot worse for a place to sleep under much better circumstances. This was an awful lot of work to hurt someone. So I tested him. "Can we watch A Christmas Story?"
"We can watch A Christmas Story. As many times as you want."
Deal.
Three
My first guess was right. Aidan lived in a triple decker. His condo was cozy, a little cluttered, but still manly. He led me to the chocolate brown leather couch that I sunk down in. He brought out a pile of blankets and a pillow, placing them on the far cushion. He might have been as uncomfortable with this as I was. He had yet to sit down.
"Do you have anything to sleep in?" he asked, still moving around nervously, making me even more anxious. It felt wrong to be sitting there, just watching him.
"Just what I've got on." I left pajamas at some of my friends houses for when I stayed with them. Other than that, I just made do. I never needed anything at Matt’s house. "It's fine, I've done it before."
"No, it won't do. I'll get you something." He headed down a hallway and I tried to make myself relax. After all, this is where I’d be sleeping. A worn dark red Oriental rug covered the wood floor. A fireplace had wood waiting to be burned. The huge TV sat silently in the corner. The walls overflowed with books, floor to ceiling. Books overwhelmed the end tables and spilled out onto the floor. I had to be nosy and check out some of the titles. If it wasn’t for the awkward circumstances that brought me here, I would normally feel really comfortable in a room like this. It was nothing like my old apartment, but it still felt like home.
"You like to read." Aidan was back in the living room already. I hadn't heard him return, so I jumped at the sound of his voice. "I remember that."
Um, what? The little hairs on my neck stood straight up. "You remember what?"
"Nothing, nothing." He shook his head. "Here."
He handed me a crimson red Harvard T-shirt and a pair of gray running shorts. He led me to the bathroom, which smelled like eucalyptus and mint, and I changed into his gym clothes for the night. When I went back to the living room, Aidan had turned the couch into a bed and switched the TV on to my movie. Now he worked on lighting the fire.
"Your leftovers are in the fridge," he said, like he hadn't just done an amazing amount of things in way too short amount of time. "I'm afraid I don't have much of an appetite, so it's probably a good thing you brought that back with you."
"That‘s fine. I’ll have it for breakfast." I sunk back into the couch, sighing as the soft sherpa blanket brushed against my skin.
Aidan had finally settled in a oxblood red recliner. The thing looked ancient, but appropriate for the rest of the room. "Would you like some tea?"
"Sure. You're into tea, aren't you?" He’d had it at the diner, too. I didn’t know any men who drank it.
"I am. I like the variety." He didn’t stay seated for long.
"Don't you drink coffee?" Somedays, I would probably bleed coffee.
"Too bitter. I like sweet things," he called from the kitchen. I didn't feel the need to follow him. I went back to looking at his books. A Christmas Story would be on all night and all day. I knew it by heart anyway, I didn't really have to pay attention.
For a seemingly manly guy, he had an awful lot of romance books. Interesting. Vampire books, writing manuals, classics, things in French that could have been anything, and more romances.
"Do you want cream and sugar?" Aidan had come in the room with my tea. Again he'd startled me with his silent movement.
"No. I like it bitter." I set the cup down on the small bit of end table by the couch that didn't have a book on it. "This is quite an interesting collection."
He ran his hand through his hair and smiled sheepishly. He was still in his suit, so I felt a little odd wearing his clothes. "Oh yeah. Some of those are for research."
"For what?" I mean, didn't most guys just watch porn? Was this guy practicing to be some sort of Renaissance man Cassanova?
"I write." He looke
d nervous again. He was probably really sorry he'd saddled himself with me for the night. I promised myself I'd be out as soon as it was light out. We could both put this behind us like it never happened. But that couch was too comfy and those blankets too warm to even think about letting him out of his offer now. He might be weird, but I had even money chances of getting attacked here or out on the street. At least here, I had a slight chance of dying happy. Or even just comfortable.
"What do you write?" My mind flashed to that scene in The Shining, the one when we learn all Jack Nicholson's character had written was ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy‘ over and over again.
"Romance novels." He gave me a lopsided smile as he settled back into his chair. He took a sip of his tea before continuing. "Under a nom de plume of course. If word got out a man wrote those books, well, there would be an uprising."
"Nice. You're living a double life. Are you going to tell me what name you write as?" He had better, or else I'd spend the rest of the night prying the information out of him. He owed it to me. He‘d already made me cry over my tuna melt.
"Allison Duprois."
Best selling author Allison Duprois? Holy crap. If this was even true."No shit. I love those books."
"You do?" He looked surprised. "I took you as more of a mystery suspsense type of girl."
"What girl deep down inside doesn't fall for a good love story?" Allison, or apparently Aidan, wrote about a vampire who'd been searching through the ages for the reincarnation of the wife he left behind when he became immortal. The books were sexy, sweet, and sad, because after a half a dozen or so books he had yet to find her.
Part of me hoped that someday, he would find her, but the rest of me never wanted the story to end.
The vampire, David, always wound up sucking his love interest dry at the end when he realized the new girl was not his beloved 2.0. David never gave up, he vowed to keep searching for his wife.
I hoped this guy didn't have alternate reality confusion issues and thought he was really a vampire. I may claim to bleed coffee, but I didn't want to prove it.
Focus on the positive. "I really identify with Marielle." Marielle was the wife David the vampire was searching for, even though she had to have died close to three hundred years ago. "There's just something about her, like, I would do and say exactly what she does, you know?"
Aidan nodded. "I can see that." He was beaming. Even though he'd sold enough books to land him on the bestseller lists, I was sure praise for your work never got old.
"So, you don't get to talk about this a lot, since no one knows that you're her, or she's you, or that you write as Allison."
"I do interviews as Allison. It's easier now, over the internet. But people really want to know about authors, too. The fans want access to everything. Allison is a character, just like the ones in the books. An actress does public appearances, I use her photos online. It works out. I get to enjoy the creativity twofold and don‘t have to deal with the distractions that come with it."
"That's so cool. So how did you start writing romance? It just seems unlikely for a guy like you. I would have guessed that you were a lawyer or a banker or something."
"Something boring like that?" The reflection of the fire danced in his dark eyes, and the heat from the flames flushed his cheeks. He'd loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his shirt, but that was all. It was enough to make him look dishelved, earthy.
Sexy as hell.
"There's a lot of me in that story," he continued. "I lost my wife at a young age. Like David and Marielle, we got married young, and we struggled a lot. I didn't know life without her anymore. I didn't want to know my life without her, so I kept trying to replace her."
The way he said it made it sound like he'd found peace with his loss through writing. "What was your wife's name?"
"Marielle."
"Oh. Just like in the books?" It might have just been my imagination, but a chill swept over the room. He looked so sad. I understood. Sure, I hadn't even met the love of my life yet, but I knew loss. Boy, did I know loss. "I'm sorry. I hope I didn't offend you when I said I identified with her."
"No. Not at all. In fact, that's why I sat next to you in church. Because you reminded me of her. Your dark hair, she used to pull it back in a bun like you do all the time. The way you wear your heart on your sleeve, and now your sassiness. If Marielle were in this situation-- " He stopped, obviously picturing her in my place, "I think she'd react just like you have.“
“In what way?” How the hell did he know how I’d react? And that I always wore my hair in a bun?
“Just like you,” he didn’t back down from his statement. “She was a fighter."
Hearing him say that made me feel better about staying here tonight. I was glad he recognized that I wasn't some simpering little flower begging to become a victim. I might not be the brightest light on the Christmas tree, but I didn't go down without a fight.
I didn't let my guard down, but again, I felt like I could share a little bit with him. After all, he'd opened his home to me and told me his big secret. "I lost my grandmother this year. I lived with her, in the senior housing. That's why I don't have any place to go. They kicked me out and I don't have enough money for my own place. So I've been floating. Friends houses." I didn't mention Matt. I guess he roughly qualified as a friend. If nothing else, he had a house. "And sometimes the shelter on bad nights. But I think my Memere, which is French for grandmother--"
"I know." Aidan smiled.
"Of course. Anyway, she'd appreciate you doing this. She'd be devastated if she knew what was happening to me. The plan was, I was supposed to go away to college, but she got sick, and..." I trailed off, not being able to finish the story. It didn't matter. He knew how it ended.
"Kyndra, she's proud of you now. You're doing the best you can. And you'll get to college. You don't have to do everything all at once. Life isn't a sprint, you know."
I was crying, again. "I know. But she was so young! Only sixty. I mean, she still had all these things she wanted to do. But she didn't, because she was raising me. Then she got sick. And now she can't do them. Ever." She’d been my best friend, so much more than anyone my own age, and I had taken so much from her. I tried to make everything as good for her as I could, especially at the end. I still held on to the hope if I did everything just right, I’d find out this was all a nightmare, and I could have my grandmother back. My life back.
"That's not your fault." Aidan looked like he wasn't exactly sure what to do. I was glad he stayed in the chair. I didn't want him to touch me. I needed too much right now. More than I could handle. "She took care of you because she loved you."
"I know that. But still, I feel guilty, you know. Her work was done. But my mother, that's another story all together. I guess Memere felt like she had to get it right, since she didn't the first time."
"You were lucky to have each other." This time Aidan did get up. He came over to me and ran his hand over my hair so lightly I could barely feel it. My whole body tensed at his touch. He pulled away and I was able to exhale. "I write at night and all this talk of Marielle and your Memere has insipired me. If I don't write it right away, I lose it. I hope you'll forgive me."
"No, that's fine." It was perfect. The night had left me emotionally spent. I had no more to give.
"I sleep all day, since I stay up so late to write. You are welcome to stay as long as you want. Don't feel like you have to leave if you have no place to go. I mean that."
I nodded. We wished each other good night and I watched him disappear into the shadows of his hallway. I fell asleep, watching A Christmas Story, in pajamas that were new to me, dreaming about home.
Four
I headed to the kitchen in search of my leftover sandwich. A Dunkin' Donuts box sat on the butcher block island with a note on top of it.
I thought you should have something more festive than a tuna melt for breakfast. There's coffee in the fridge. Cream and sugar on th
e side. I know you like it bitter.
Hope to see you later.
Now that was sweet. And thoughtful. I smiled and leaned against the counter as I heated up my coffee in the microwave. I dumped all the cream in and added three packets of sugar. Maybe I wasn't such a bitter girl after all.
I peeked inside the box and found a dozen sinful looking donuts calling my name. Some of them were standards like chocolate honey dip, glazed, and jelly but there were also frosted ones with candy and christmas trees. I kept reaching in and then changing my mind. Screw it, it's Christmas. And I was starving. The only advantage of never knowing where my next meal was coming from was not having to worry about calories. I took the jelly and the one with the Christmas tree on it and headed back to the living room with my coffee to catch up with Ralphie and Randy.
This was the point in the day I typically entered A Christmas Story overload. I wasn't exactly sure what to do. I felt weird staying, but there wasn't anywhere else for me to go. And honestly, I wanted to stay.
Something about being here just felt right. But I didn’t know what. I’d brought Aidan’s note to the couch with me. I read it over and over.
I flipped through channels, settling on a Celtics game. I usually only watched basketball during the playoffs with Matt, so I had a hard time staying interested in the game. I didn't know if it was just my anxiety making me restless. I felt trapped in Aidan's living room, as cozy as it was. Normally I'd kill for a lazy day like this. But now that I had it, I wasn't letting myself enjoy it.
This sense of peace and safety made me feel guilty. Like I didn’t deserve to feel this way. Bullshit. And just to prove to myself I did, I ate another donut.
Once I'd had enough of listening to the obnoxious commentators, I snapped off the TV and went over to the bookshelf. Like the donuts, the choices were overwhelming. I picked up one of my favorite Allison Duprois books, A Piece Of My Heart.
I knew Talis wasn't Marielle, but there was something about her I couldn't let go. The fire in her eyes warmed me, her touch made me feel like I was still alive. Every night I went to see her, she'd smile as I laid my money on the table. She knew to wait for me. I was coming. I couldn't lose her, too. I needed to have her with me always. I'd have plenty of time to make her understand later.
Silent Night: Vampire Holiday Romance (The Night Songs Collection Book 4) Page 2
