All I Want For Christmas: Holiday Romance

by Catelyn Meadows

  “David?” Saylor called, shouting at the top of her lungs at the base of their gaudy staircase. “David!”

  Amanda muttered something about her yelling, but again, Saylor ignored her. Noises shuffled above. A door opened, and David appeared at the top of the stairs wearing a sweater and slacks, his hair hard-parted to one side.

  “Saylor. Good, you’re early. We need you to have him ready by six-thirty—”

  “Stop.” Saylor gestured with the hand holding Parker’s suit, which was still wrapped in plastic.

  David’s face hardened. His hands tightened on the banister above. “The wedding is happening, Saylor, whether you like it or not.”

  “A lot of things happened whether I liked them or not. I know you’re marrying her tonight, which, frankly, is the best thing you could do if you’re going to have Parker around. He needs that stability from you.”

  David blinked several times as though he didn’t recognize her. “Oh.”

  Cogs turned in his mind. He set his brow in some kind of inward resolution and stepped down the rest of the way to stand level with Saylor. Something in the air shifted between them, as though he was lowering an inner barrier with each step.

  Amanda moved in, too, her face softening. She stood off to the side by a large, potted fern.

  “You broke my heart,” Saylor said, without any trace of the usual tightness brought on by the thought. “You both did.”

  “Saylor—”

  “Let me finish. It hurt, David. It crushed me. I haven’t said much. I haven’t wanted revenge. In fact, I’ve been trying as hard as I can to make the best of things. You of all people know how difficult that is for me.”

  David lowered his head. He’d been there, after Caleb. He knew what she’d nearly done to herself.

  “But you’ve been in a bad habit of thinking, because I’m nice, you can walk all over me. It’s probably the new money, and slowly being accustomed to getting your way all the time.”

  Amanda sniffed and looked away. Saylor expected another rude comment, but she said nothing.

  “Like it or not, Parker is our son, David. Yours and mine. Which means I expect you to do me the courtesy of consulting with me before decisions are made. No more extensions to have him spend time with Amanda’s parents. No more telling me to do things, like you did last week, ordering me to have him ready for you by a certain time. I’m a human being. Someone you once loved, even if you don’t now, and I deserve to be treated with respect. If you have a problem with that—”

  “Okay,” David said. His tone was soft and humble, the farthest thing from what Saylor expected.

  “What?”

  “Okay. You’re right.”

  Her mouth parted. Amanda sidled closer to him, a sour glare on her small-nosed face.

  “She’s right,” he told her apologetically. Then he turned back to Saylor. “I’ll make sure to consider your feelings in the future where Parker is concerned.”

  The old Saylor would have smarted at that last phrase. Where Parker is concerned. But after today, that was all David would be to her. Parker’s father.

  “Thank you,” she said, digging into her coat pocket. “I have one more thing for you. You can consider it a wedding present, since I won’t be coming tonight.”

  “You—what?”

  She smiled, a tender, non-confrontational smile. “You’re his father. You’re capable of finding a way to get him there. Next time, you’ll know to check with me before assuming I have any desire to be at your beck and call.” Especially when you’re marrying the woman who threw my life on a tailspin, she thought but didn’t add.

  Saylor pulled the thin, rectangular package out and handed it to David.

  “Mistletoe?” he said, confused. “Christmas is over.”

  Amanda stepped forward, huffing. “Is this supposed to be a joke? You know we’re about to get married.”

  In that moment, Saylor pitied her. She pitied her defensiveness, her derision, her constant negativity. So territorial. So insecure in her high and mightiness. You can have him, Amanda.

  Saylor’s smile was anything but forced, and she turned back to her ex.

  “Before it was the symbol of kissing and Christmas, there was an old pagan legend where the god of peace’s life was destroyed and later, restored. That god’s mother hung mistletoe up as a token of peace when his life was returned to him. It was a symbol to help others, to represent love and forgiveness.”

  The two of them blinked, staring down at the little box in David’s hand.

  “I felt it was fitting, since something you once destroyed in me has been healed.”

  “What’s that?” David asked.

  “My heart. And I’m here to say I forgive you.”

  The words resonated, ringing true like a crystal-clear bell. Peace sank straight through her like an arrow, penetrating her bones and her soul, bringing restfulness and satisfaction with it. It felt so good to let all of that hurt go.

  All at once, David and Amanda seemed suddenly smaller.

  They said nothing as Saylor turned. She strayed in the slightest, just enough to place Parker’s little suit on a decorative table. Parker bolted over, bombarding her with a hug. She bent and lifted him, holding him close and spinning just slightly.

  “Hi, Mommy,” he said, his little arms wrapping around her neck.

  “I love you,” Saylor told him, feeling all of her heart swell.

  “Love you too,” he said in his sweet, small voice, right in her ear.

  When Saylor closed the door and trudged back to her car, she didn’t go alone. Change accompanied her. She welcomed it into the seat beside her, guiding it home, letting it share its peace. Parker was spending time with his father. This was her son’s family, and all at once, the crooked puzzle pieces of her life that had been sticking out at all angles shifted to fit together a little better than they had done before.

  Saylor fingered the other box in her pocket. She still had one more mistletoe delivery to make, but this one is for an entirely different—more traditional—reason. Saylor never realized before how much she really loved that tradition.

  The only drawback was Cole. The last time she’d been at his apartment, she’d borne her soul to him, and he’d sent her away. Could she handle another rejection?

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Palms damp, muscles quivering, Saylor approached Cole’s door on the third floor and exhaled. She couldn’t not try. She had to at least tell him how she felt, to see if he’d be willing to give her another chance. She could prove she’d changed. She wasn’t the same person she’d been.

  Cole opened after one knock. The sight of him stole her breath. He was delectable, cut from steel in a black, tailored tuxedo, on fire in a way only Cole Osteen could pull off. His chiseled jaw was clean shaven, his dark hair slicked to one side, his eyes sparkling bluer than starlight.

  Her heart pittered and pattered all at once. He had a date. He was heading out to meet someone else.

  What had she been thinking to come here?

  “Saylor,” he said in pleasant surprise. “You’re here.”

  Confusion and defense took place inside her. Not only did he seem happy to see her, but it was almost as though he’d been expecting her. Had she missed something? Maybe he’d tried to reach her and she hadn’t noticed.

  Seriously, though. How could she not have noticed? She’d been checking her phone every ten seconds for days.

  If Cole seemed bothered by her appearance on his step, he sure had a great way of hiding it. He beamed at her, his eyes sizzling with intrigue and mystery and unspoken invitations. It sent her pulse into a foxtrot.

  “You’re dressed up,” she said. Her breath hitched.

  “Actually,” he said, gesturing to his tux. “I was just—”

  Saylor pressed a hand to her stomach. She suddenly didn’t want to hear it. He was probably getting ready to go out with his ex-wife. She seemed the type of woman to expect him to wear a tux to things.
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  “I’m sorry for bothering you. Clearly, you have plans, and I’ll just—I’ll let you get to them.”

  Cole reached for her hand. His skin was warm and calloused and razor sharp for all the impact it had on her. “Please don’t go,” he said. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve been meaning to call you for days, but I wasn’t sure you’d want to talk to me after the way I treated you.”

  “Cole—” She wanted to wrench free of his grasp, but she couldn’t move.

  “Please, will you come inside?” He stepped back and gestured for her to enter his warm apartment. A friendly fire flickered in its place behind glass. Bubba Jones stared at Saylor with yellow eyes from his perch on the couch’s arm rest.

  With uncertainty, Saylor entered, allowing Cole to close out the cold behind her.

  “I owe you an apology, Saylor,” he began. “I was an idiot. I know how hard it was for you to tell me about your painful past, and I pushed you away when I should have held you closer. I didn’t even help you get your car fixed, when I totally should have.”

  Her mouth slackened. “What are you saying? You don’t want to see other people?”

  He rubbed a hand behind his neck and then fiddled with his bowtie as if worried he’d upset it. “I can’t believe I said that. It was a stupid, impulsive claim. I was worried about you, and I didn’t want to be the reason you ever hurt that much again, so I thought it would be for the best to end things.”

  Saylor’s thoughts scrambled to understand. “I—”

  “I was wrong,” he said, swallowing. “So wrong. Can you give me another chance?”

  Without knowing who moved first, they were embracing. Cole held her tightly—so tightly. “I’m sorry,” he said into her hair. “I never should have let you go.”

  She was tingling all over, from his words, from his hold, from the smell of his cologne. Part of her couldn’t believe this was really happening. She’d half expected for him to maintain his see-other-people claim.

  “Do you want to tell me why you’re all dressed up?” she asked.

  He pulled away and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Only if you tell me why you aren’t.” He quirked a brow as though puzzling over her jeans and ponytail.

  She tugged at her coat. “Am I supposed to be?”

  “Isn’t the wedding in an hour?”

  A chill spread across her back and legs, though it wasn’t all uncomfortable. “How did you know about that?”

  Cole checked his left cufflink. “I bumped into your mom at the grocery store yesterday. We had a good chat, and she told me.”

  “So...” Saylor couldn’t finish. He’d spoken with her mother, but not with her? Why hadn’t he told her? Why hadn’t he called?

  Cole seemed to read her discomfort. “I know, I should have called you.” He offered a shamefaced grin before opening his arms as though offering himself to her. “But I was going to surprise you.”

  Saylor gulped. Literally gulped. She wasn’t sure when she’d ever done so, but the realization was that impactful. First the apology, then the embrace, now this?

  Cole had been planning to come with her to David’s wedding. A comforting euphoria began to swirl in her stomach. He was telling the truth; he really did want to be with her.

  Even after this horrible week, after their awful breakup, he’d been willing to come. A chill swept up her spine as surely as if Jack Frost were running his finger up her back.

  “Cole.” Her voice hinted at how touched she was. “I don’t even know what to say. That was so sweet of you. But I’m not going.”

  “Oh?”

  Her lips crinkled out a ready smile. “I have a better idea of how we can spend our time tonight.” She rifled the box from her pocket, heat flaring in her cheeks. This was no casual edging down a limb. This was full-on throwing herself from the bridge.

  Cole’s eyes glinted at the sight of the mistletoe. He took the box from her, deliberately brushing his hand against hers.

  “I like where this is going,” he said. “But we can’t do it with you looking like that.”

  “What?” She peered down at her jeans and snow-clung shoes. “You don’t like my clothes?”

  “Let’s make a night of it.” He wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’m taking you out. Get your cute little self home and don’t come back until you’re dressed to kill, Saylor Bates.”

  “If it’s that fancy of a date, then you’d better be picking me up.”

  He thought this over for all of two seconds. “You’re right. If we’re sticking with tradition, that’s how things should go.”

  “Definitely tradition,” she said, lifting the mistletoe and tiptoeing up.

  Flashing a seductive grin, he dipped down to press his lips against hers. The kiss filled her as though he’d poured hot water inside, collecting first in her toes and climbing up to her throat. This was a hot chocolate kiss, she decided.

  Though he drew his mouth away, his arms stayed securely around her. “What is it?” he whispered, forehead to forehead. “What’s different?”

  “Me,” she said, beaming, steaming with the heat of his touch, the tingle of his kiss, and the glimmer of change. With another final peck, she wheeled around and scurried out the door.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Saylor brushed her hair aside, reached behind, and carefully zipped up the concert choir dress she hadn’t worn since college. It was black velvet on top, with a vivid, flowing red skirt draping from its empire waist. To her delight and relief, it still fit, and she managed the zipper and twisted her hair up into a knot at the back of her head. Her step was lighter, with a bounce sneaking its way to lift her with every move she made.

  She balanced against her dresser as she slipped into ankle boots with wedge heels. On impulse, she reached into the drawer and pulled out the gray shirt. Without a second thought, she plopped it into the donation box by the door.

  Letting it go was healing. The usual tug this shirt had given her for so long was gone. Nothing else was keeping her attached to it, which widened her smile even more.

  She determined to donate the box first thing Monday morning.

  A knock sounded, adding to the exhilaration surging through her. Saylor gave herself a final once-over in the mirror before sweeping down the hall to open it.

  She didn’t even notice the cold. Cole was as sharp as ever in his tux. His gaze roved from Saylor’s neckline to the hem of her red skirt and back up again, dripping with such burning approval her body temperature clicked up a few more degrees. It hadn’t been more than an hour since the last time they’d clapped eyes, but if this was what it’d be like every time they were reunited, she’d take it.

  “That’s more like it,” he said. “Are you ready, Saylor Bates?”

  “For your plans?”

  “Unless you have something else in mind.”

  Saylor glanced behind him, out across the snow to where his pickup idled. As of a month ago, her plans had included keeping it together when Parker was around, working enough to cover their basic needs, and not crying herself to sleep. She clutched the mistletoe in her coat pocket. Her plans were so much different now.

  No more Christmas Eve’s spent alone just to avoid her brother. Christmas should be spent with family. With those you love.

  No more pining for the lost past, not when such a bright future lay ahead of her. It had taken sorrow to open her eyes to it. It had taken the pain, the loneliness. It had taken a trip to the mall and a handsome, phony Santa Claus telling her son a simple story about mistletoe to make things clear. It had taken her family’s patience and their faith in her to rebuild her own faith in herself.

  “My plans are to make the most of things from now on,” Saylor told him. “And I’m ready to make the most of our night, Cole. Of every second I get to spend with you.”

  “Sounds good to me.” Lips pursed in a satisfied smirk, he led a hand toward the door. “After you.”

  SAYLOR’S MOUTH DROPPED.

  �
�The mall? You had me dress up like this for the mall?” Then again, this was Twin Falls, Idaho. It wasn’t like they had the opera or art galas or anything around here. She stared across the parking lot, past the Red Robin to the Old Navy in the strip mall across the street.

  Cole hopped out and made his way around to open her door.

  “Whatever happened to making the most of things?” He stared up at her, his eyes glossy and playful.

  “I totally will,” she said. “But this is—I just wasn’t expecting this.”

  “This is where I met you. I thought it would be fitting. Besides, we’re painting the town.” He grinned like a fool and offered her a hand.

  Saylor took the opportunity to look him over. “You do know how to make an impression,” she said. “First the Santa suit. Now this.”

  “You miss that Santa suit. Admit it.”

  She slid out and landed in his arms. “It definitely had its charms. You helped me get what I wanted more than anything else.”

  Seeming to sense the seriousness of her tone, his lively demeanor vanished, turning into something more thoughtful. “That’s right. I asked you what you wanted for Christmas, didn’t I?”

  Captured in his gaze, she bit her lip and nodded.

  “You never told me what it was.”

  “To feel whole again.” She couldn’t believe she’d said the words, just like that. But they swirled, true and unretractable. She had no desire to take them back.

  Cole’s eyes softened. The space around them seemed to open as he released her to stand on her feet. “I’m glad,” he said, stroking her face.

  “Although, an admission like that should have taken place while I sat on your lap.” She stuck up her chin, adding a smirk. “Isn’t that how it works?”

  “Maybe you can show me later. We’ll have a redo.”

  “I like redo’s,” she said.

  Cole kissed her long and hard, right there in the middle of the lot. Saylor whirred and spun, captivated by his heat, his heart, his willingness to look past her flaws and accept her as she was.