A Christmas Wish--A Contemporary Erotic Feel Good Christmas Romance (Darkest Fears Christmas Special, Book Four)

by Clair Delaney

  I sigh inwardly, and then frown as I re-think what George just said about subconsciously avoiding being alone with Tristan. So I have to ask - Am I avoiding it?

  “George - Help!” Phil squeals down the hallway, making George roll his eyes.

  “You better go see him,” I laugh, ‘I’ll see myself out,” I add.

  “Sure?” George asks, I nod so we give each other a goodbye kiss and I head out of their house, and begin driving home, back to a dark, empty house named Seascape - A house without Tristan...

  Tristan

  I’M IN THE X-J, driving home to Brighton, to Coral, my darling wife who I have missed so badly in the two nights and three days I have been away from her. There’s another storm raging, so I have kept my speed down, and been more careful, as Coral asked me to. I glance at the time again – 11.45pm. I’m late, much later than I said I would be; which I am not pleased about. I hate being late. Especially with Coral, she’ll worry, which makes me worry. Concentrate Tristan!

  Its pitch black outside, rain pounding against the windscreen, the wipers on full blast, but the Jag can take it, and is effortlessly eating up the miles. Yet, this journey that I have made many times now, feels like it’s taking forever. I know it’s because I am desperate to be home, at Seascape, with Coral.

  I finally see the lights of Brighton City in the distance, and feel a sense of relief wash over me. I focus on the black, slick road ahead as The Verve sing Lucky Man to me. And as I hum along to the tune, I have to agree. I am one lucky man. Then out of nowhere, I get a flashback of a melancholy feeling that wouldn’t leave me this time last year. A loneliness like I can never explain as my first Christmas without my folks approached. I clench my teeth as I think about how bad it was. The waves of grief that filled my mind and body, day after day, were relentless. That Christmas was horrendous. I never want to feel like that again. I try to shake off the memories by thinking about this year, and how different it’s going to be.

  There’s less than three weeks to go until Christmas, and surprisingly, I’m feeling good about it. I’ve had my moments, and will continue to have them. And even though I wish my folks were still here, it hasn’t hurt as much as it did last year - I know that’s because I have Coral now.

  She has filled my life with love and happiness. I no longer feel alone. I smile widely at that thought, thinking about how much she has changed me, how much she has grown, and how much has happened since we met less than six short months ago. But all is well now. Life is pleasant here at Seascape. Coral is happy. I am happy and in love.

  As I continue to drive, and really wanting to put my foot down so I can get to Coral, an old memory begins to replay of my folks. It’s one of my most memorable, because everything my folks said that day has come true. And as I think back on that night we spent together, I can't help thinking how right they both were with what they told me, and how much I wish they could both see how happy I now am...

  IT WAS A REGULAR WEDNESDAY evening. I was quiet and contemplative, had been for the past month since the end of my relationship with Olivia. I wasn’t in a talkative mood. I could tell Granny and Gramps were worried, which only added pressure as I didn’t want to worry them. I was in a funk that I couldn’t seem to pull myself out of.

  “You’ll find her one day Tristan, that special girl,” Granny said, surprising me.

  Gramps kept quiet. He always did when Granny was dishing out advice. This was not a conversation I wanted to have. But they’d raised me to be respectful of them, so I played along.

  I tried a smile. “You think so?” I questioned.

  “Yes.” She was absolutely positive. “When the time is right, she’ll come into your life at exactly the right time and the right place.”

  “How can you be so sure?” I asked.

  “Because that’s how it works. When you’re ready, and she’s ready, you’ll meet. And she’ll be everything you ever wanted, and you’ll be everything she ever wanted.” She told me, I could see she believed in what she was saying to me. And a part of me hoped it was true.

  “I hope you’re right Granny.” I replied.

  “I know I’m right,” she told me and squeezed my hand. Then she gave me one of her most loving, adoring smiles. “Tristan, you are a wonderful man, so loving and sweet. You haven’t changed since you were a boy, and I am so very proud of you, of how hard you have worked, and how much you have achieved. And one day, the right girl will come along and appreciate all those things about you too, and love you unconditionally for it.”

  I felt guilt ridden. Had I spent enough time with them? Had I done was I was supposed to have done, or what I thought I should do?

  “Are you happy Granny?” I asked.

  “Yes darling. I have your Grandpa and I have you. I don't need anything else.”

  I nodded and glanced across at Gramps. “And you Gramps?”

  Gramps frowned at me, and contemplated for a moment. “Son, we’ve never told you this, but we tried for years to fall pregnant, didn’t we Rose.” He looked to Granny, and she smiled at him. “Yes Freddie, we did.”

  “Went to see the doctor,” he continued. “Told us it might not happen, there was no way to check up on these things back then, so we resigned ourselves to the probability that it may never happen. And then Rose was sick, and I was scared stupid. I thought I might lose her. Turned out she’d fallen pregnant with your mother. We were delighted. Although Granny had it tough, didn’t you darling.”

  Granny smiled again. “Oh, the worst pregnancy in the history of the world, I swear!”

  “And then little Beth was born, healthy as a horse. We were so happy, and enjoyed being parents, but we didn’t want to go through all that again. So we were resigned, one child, no more. We would cherish and love her, and give her everything we could. And then we had the pleasure of your mother falling pregnant with you. We were looking forward to being Grandparents weren’t we Rose.”

  “Yes darling, we even started a saving account for you.” Granny touched my cheek tenderly.

  Gramps was quiet for a moment, shook his head, stared down at the table and then continued in a low voice. “Worse thing in the world to lose your child, no matter what age they are, there ain’t no other feeling like it. And it stays with you for as long as you live.”

  I stopped breathing. My Mother was rarely mentioned. I always thought it was because they didn’t want to upset me, but now I could see it was because it was so hard for them to remember. Granny’s eyes filled with tears. I took her hand in mine and held on tight.

  “Life is cruel sometimes,” Gramps continued. “Rose and I were devastated, we were never going to see Beth again, enjoy her smile, or her infectious giggling, or have her hug us so hard we had to tell her to let go. She was such a sweet, loving girl...” Gramps turned away, unable to continue.

  Granny looked at me and smiled, then continued as Gramps seemed to be struggling.

  “God also blessed us by giving us you.” She softly said. “Every time we looked at you, we saw your Mother. We saw her smile, heard her laugh, felt her loving us through you. And for that we will always be truly grateful.” She told me.

  I nodded, not sure of what to say.

  “Ask me again Son.” Gramps prompted, his voice gruff, I could tell he was emotional, and I knew what he meant.

  I choked back the lump in my throat. “Are you happy Gramps?”

  “More than you can ever know. I am just as proud of you, and I love you Son,” he answered then he reached forward, cupped me around the neck and gave me an awkward man hug. Gramps quickly released me, as Granny was always the more affectionate one, but I felt the need to let them both know how much they meant to me too.

  “I hope you both know that you mean the world to me. If you hadn’t have raised me, god knows where I would have been. I love you both. I just want you to know that.”

  “We know Tristan,” Granny said. “Yes, we know that Son.” Gramps added.

  We all smiled at one anot
her, then laughed, and as the evening drew on, Granny retired early and Gramps and I continued the game of chess that we’d been playing on and off for several weeks now.

  I poured myself a Brandy, and Gramps a Whiskey then sat opposite him.

  “Something you need to know Son.” He looked dead serious.

  “I’m all ears,” I told him.

  “I knew the moment I met your Granny that she was the one, just one look from across the dance floor, and I was a gonner. I knew, right there and then that I wanted to spend the rest of my life staring into her eyes.”

  I didn’t really get his point. “I know you love her Gramps,” I sighed.

  He shook his head at me. “You’re not listening.”

  I frowned at him. “Yes, I am.”

  He sighed and took a sip of Whiskey. “Did you feel like that when you met Olivia?”

  I laughed. “Er...no Gramps. We didn’t really have that kind of relationship.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “What, you saying it was just sex for three years?”

  Kinky, dark, fucking, that’s what it was - I laughed again, feeling a little uncomfortable we were having this conversation. “Something like that,” I replied.

  He shook his head in disapproval and started mumbling to himself, which always annoyed me.

  “What?” I pushed.

  He took another sip of Whiskey. “I don't understand what you were doing with someone like her, I liked that other one!”

  “What other one?” I asked, surprised by his sudden outburst.

  “April.” He looked sternly at me. “Reminded me of your Granny that girl did.”

  I froze, staring back at him in utter shock. He remembered her name. “Gramps – I didn’t even know you remembered her’ – “Well of course I remember her!” He interrupted, more passionately now.

  I stayed quiet. I hadn’t thought of April, my first and only teenage love, in a very long time.

  “Look Son, there’s all kinds of people in the world, and I’ve tried to toughen you up’ – “Wait, are you saying I’m not tough?” I barked back.

  “No!” he glared at me then, and I fell silent. “That is not what I’m saying. You’re smart Tristan. Tough when you have to be, but intellectuals generally don't go around with a cocky chip on their shoulder. Tough guys do, and you my Son, are not one of them. I know you Tristan, you’re a carbon copy of your Mother. You have all her attributes, thoughtfulness, kindness, empathy for others, all the traits that make you who you are. What I’m trying to say to you is this – You’re too nice, which isn’t a bad thing. Just stop allowing the wrong kind of women to come into your life. Make a stand for yourself. Don't enter into another relationship unless you know she’s just as invested in you as you are in her. Don't let another one like Olivia use you Tristan.”

  It was the longest speech I’d ever heard him make.

  “Do you understand what I’m saying?” He asked in a firm tone.

  I nodded once. He was right. But I didn’t want to talk about it – I was still too pissed at myself and Olivia to be thinking about anyone new coming into my life. In fact, I didn’t want anyone new.

  “Say it out loud,” he prompted.

  I sighed heavily. “Yes Gramps. I get it. I get what you’re saying.”

  “Good. If you think like that, then you will find the right girl does come along, doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy though, because if it’s easy, it ain’t worth fighting for. Tougher it is, harder you have to fight for her, and the more you’ll mean to each other. That’s how it was with your Granny and I, we fought all the time, and loved all the time. One date was all it took and I knew my life would never be complete without her. So don't pursue it unless you feel like that about her, ok?”

  A part of me wanted to laugh at him. Gramps had never really given me advice about women before, more like commented here and there. But as I really absorbed what he’d said, I knew he was right, and I knew I wanted to feel that way about a girl – well, one day.

  “You have my word Gramps. I understand.” I smiled at him.

  He smiled at me, leaned forward, and we clicked glasses.

  “Tristan look,” he pointed down to the chess table with a wicked gleam in his eyes.

  I looked down, Gramps had won – Damn it!

  I’d been so busy listening to his speech, I hadn’t seen his move. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t try to beat him all over again...

  THE CHRISTMAS LIGHTS hanging above me as I cruise the car through Brighton town centre make me smile to myself, and I wonder if Coral and I should go out over the next couple of days and enjoy them. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I realise I haven’t really helped Coral with any Christmas shopping. She – no, I shouldn’t think like that – we have a big family, including friends to buy gifts for, and I really should be helping her with that. I nod my head in agreement with myself and turn left into our driveway. All the outdoor Christmas lights are on that Danny and I put up on Sunday.

  In the middle of the round lawn is the glowing Snowman, and right next to the front door is the glowing Father Christmas that Coral loved, me not so much, which makes me chuckle to myself as I remember Coral’s face lighting up when she realised what they were – my crazy, beautiful girl.

  Finally - I am home. I feel a sense of relief as I switch off the engine. The drive from London was tiring. I collect my bag and briefcase from the boot of the car, lock her up and head towards the front door, excited to see Coral, and glad to be back in Brighton.

  I walk into the house, expecting to see Coral come running towards me, her eyes filled with love and adoration for me. One of the many things I love about that woman is that she’s always so genuinely pleased to see me, as I am her. I’ve never had that before, a woman who truly loves me for who I am.

  And as tired as I am, I can't wait to lose myself in her, to feel her soft skin against mine, have her wonderful, sexy, naked body wrapped around mine as I bury myself deep inside her.

  I imagine waking up beside her in the morning, neither of us having to be anywhere – In fact, I think it’s a damn good idea to spend the day in bed – we have a lot of catching up to do. The thought makes me so hard, my dick actually aches. Down boy, later!

  As I punch in the code for the alarm, I notice the time. It’s late, 12.15am to be precise - my drive took a lot longer than anticipated with the bad weather. Scanning the room, I notice the only light is coming from the low lights in the kitchen, and the Christmas Tree sat in the corner by the fire. The stereo is on - Chris Rea’s Driving Home For Christmas is playing.

  I frown to myself as I lock the front door, and re-alarm the house. Coral did say she was going to wait up for me, as she always does, and she’s always kept her word. I wonder for a moment if I have done something wrong, or not done something, but then I hear her whimper, and I know what it means.

  I drop my bag and briefcase to the floor and go in search of her.

  My heart has picked up its pace. It’s my usual reaction to hearing that noise. Coral is dreaming, having a nightmare. She doesn’t always tell me what they are about – and I’m guessing those are the really bad ones – but sometimes she does. I have talked to George about this, as I was naive enough to believe that once we were married and settled, they would have stopped, but as George reminded me, this is her way of coping with things, and he doesn’t believe that her mind will ever stop being so active.

  They are not as frequent as they used to be, and always seem to occur when I’ve been away – I have argued this point with Coral, that she should come with me when I have to travel – but she insists on staying here, citing time apart is just as important as quality time together. ‘How are we ever supposed to have the opportunity to miss one another?’ she stated, and in a way, I know she is right.

  I just miss her so damn much. My argumentative, troublesome girl who I completely and utterly love and adore – she whimpers again, bringing me back to the now.

  I pick
up my pace down the hallway, knowing she is in pain - her whimpering has changed to something more sinister, more gut wrenching. Just as I reach the edge of the sofa, I realise she’s not there, it makes my stomach turn. Where are you?

  “Coral?” I call out, hoping her subconscious will recognise my voice and she’ll respond – which she does – with an earth shattering scream that chills me to the bone.

  Instantly realising where it’s coming from, I dash into the library and find Coral on the sofa, her body curled up into a tense, rigid ball. Her hands are tight fists above her head, and her breathing has sky rocketed. Oh my love, my darling...

  This is why I hate leaving her so much!

  I kneel down in front of her, and gently stroke her cheek. “Wake up my love, you’re dreaming...” I whisper - I feel so helpless. I want to shake her awake so I can stop her going through this pain, but the first time I did that, it made it worse and I almost ended up with a black eye. George advised me that from now on, a gentle approach is what’s needed – and he’s right, it’s works better this way.

  I lean towards her, place my hand over her clenched fist and whisper in her ear. “Wake up my darling. I am home. You’re safe now, wake up.”

  Her breathing starts to slow, and the tension in her muscles subsides a little, a small whimper escapes her lips – clenching my heart as it does – I wish I could take it all away for her.

  “Can you hear me baby? It’s Tristan. I am home my love, you are safe. Wake up if you want to darling.” Her eyes dart open and meet mine, they are wide and full of fear, and I wait for her to do or say whatever is necessary to make her feel better, sometimes she’s very disorientated when she wakes.

  “Tristan...” she chokes out as tears spill over and roll down her cheeks. “You’re home.”

  “Yes. I’m here my love,” I say as I stroke her cheek again. “You’re safe now.”

  Without a word, she scrambles into my arms, and I know that whatever the dream was, it scared her. As we sit on the sofa, Coral on my lap, curled up in my arms like a helpless child, I wait for the sweats and shaking to begin, which normally do after a bad dream. She clutches me so tightly, her head buried beneath my chin, as she begins to softly weep.