Christmas Ever After

by Niomie Roland

  She was packing up and moving out… but why?

  Then his eyes caught what he had missed the first time around—

  Brand new, every single thing was brand new with the shop tags still attached on them.

  Shopping, he realized. She had gone shopping.

  The fear in his stomach turned into confusion.

  What did she need men’s boots for? Was that a pack of men’s shirts, too?

  Yes, it was right beside the pile of baby clothes, much smaller than Miranda could first into. Now he was completely lost.

  "What is going on?" He obviously startled her, and she snapped her head up and got to her feet.

  The pile of clothes on her lap fell to the floor. "This is not what it looks like," she stammered out.

  He couldn't help but smirk at the panic in her eyes. He hid his amusement well, dropping his briefcase and walking to the chair beside her, aware that her eyes followed his every movement until he sat down and beckoned back to her seat.

  "Well, explain," he prompted, gesturing towards the piles.

  "Winter is coming and I just had to do it for my neighborhood people," she rushed through her explanation, worried as if he would snatch it all back like a toy.

  "Okay."

  "I took the money out of my own account. It's the least I could do, plus I was bored of doing nothing," she explained. The way she bit her lip, and widened her eyes reminded him of Miranda so much that it was hard to hold back a bite of laughter.

  "Okay."

  "I just had to do it, and I know I didn't ask you but — Wait, you're not angry?" She looked a little miffed and definitely still confused.

  He couldn't fight the smile tugging at the edges of his lips now, she looked just a little manic, and entirely too cute.

  "I can't believe you allowed me to keep ranting," she chided in a small voice.

  "Well, you wanted to," he replied.

  "I thought for sure you wouldn't approve."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know." Her voice was unsure again, and he wanted that confident woman he saw moments ago defending her actions back.

  "Because I'm not getting tax returns off of this?"

  She eyed him before nodding. "Something like that.”

  "I'm not that big of a monster." He smiled at her — her innocence was refreshing but she was not naive by any means.

  He wondered what she heard in his voice because one minute she was looking at him nonplussed, the next she was laughing so hard she was holding her side, tears at the corners of her eyes. She didn't look like she was stopping anytime soon, collapsing into peals of laughter again and again.

  "Please stop... Just stop," she said between laughs.

  He arched an eyebrow. "I haven't done a single thing."

  "The look on your face."

  He didn't know how to deal with that one, but he gave her another smile, stretching out a hand to help her from her squat on the floor. "I was born with this face, you know."

  She released a tame chuckle. "I'm sorry for that."

  "What do you mean?" He pretended to glare. "I have a great face."

  "Not with that earlier expression." She gave a small shake of her head.

  He had to smile at that, resisting the voice that prompted him to drop her hand. He liked it right where it was, in his own hand.

  "Where is Miranda?"

  "She went off with Celia to get the bags to pack up this stuff."

  "Oh.”

  "Missing your daughter already?" she asked softly, the words warming him immeasurably. Trinity admitting that even in play had him…content.

  "She has a certain energy," he observed.

  "Say it plain, she's a noisy brat," she said, yet the words contradicted a proud tone.

  "Oh, she was born that way," he retorted, a bit smug.

  "What do you mean by that?" He couldn’t help the grin that found its way to his lips at Trinity’s pretend glare.

  "You should see her mother."

  “I resent that," Trinity retorted.

  "I am glad.” He himself was beginning to chuckle now.

  "That I resent that?” She couldn’t stop laughing.

  "That you're laughing," he replied. His hand traced the lines of her jaw. The hand in his twitched once before she settled into his hold and his touch.

  "I never said this, but thank you for saving me… I mean, this could have been me this winter," she continued, suddenly sober. She gestured at the piles around her.

  "It was my pleasure," he murmured softly. "But I wonder who will willingly take those ugly rubber shoes."

  His eyes were suddenly wicked as he removed his hand from her jaw, already needing an excuse to return it quickly.

  "Fleece lined, very warm and when you wear a good dry pair of socks, they can keep your toes snug for a long time," she said, her voice prim but her eyes betrayed the humor behind them.

  "It's like a whole other world."

  "Like you won't believe."

  "My greatest worry about winter was keeping from breaking my legs on the ski slopes…”

  "You take skiing vacations?" Her curiosity shone through, almost as if she wanted to know.

  For once in his life, it didn't feel like idle conversation. He felt like he wasn’t just saying words to pass the awkward time — he was having a real conversation, with a real woman.

  "Used to… More like my grandfather dragging me with his other never aging pals," he divulged with a small nostalgic smile.

  "He does look ageless," she mused with a look he could not interpret.

  "Eyes on me," he growled, surprising both of them. But his look softened with another slow smile.

  "I'm just saying," she countered with a mischievous smile of her own.

  At this he arched his brows.

  "I've never been skiing," she replied.

  "I'll take you," he promised, shocking himself for being so forward.

  "I can't leave Miranda behind.” Thankfully, she was looking down on her lap, too preoccupied to spy the confusion he wore boldly on his face.

  "And her too," he replied almost in a whisper, realizing that it was true — he would take her anywhere, she need only ask.

  "It would be one huge experience and memory for a long time to come," she said, her voice trailing away as if fearful for the things she was hinting at.

  They both knew their marriage was not forever, and she was sorry for casting a pall on the previously jovial atmosphere.

  "I know," he replied, his fingers tugging at the strip of flesh between her teeth. "But I can still take you, the two of you with me, six months is a long time."

  "Thank you," she managed to say at last, as if she had forgotten to breathe.

  He leaned a little closer, distracted by the way her pink tongue darted out to moisten her lips before retreating inside her mouth. He noticed the way her breath came in choppy exhales that seemed to pulse in sync with the blood roaring in his head. Her huge eyes were riveted on him, shining.

  Their huge gleam reminded him of Miranda's, but there was none of the blind trust here nor that vulnerability. In Trinity’s eyes, he could only interpret strength, and… lust.

  He leaned even closer until her breath fanned his lips, and his own exhale fairly mirrored hers.

  "Daddy!"

  The voice jolted the both apart, even though it came from a good distance away. They shifted and returned to their own respective seats. He watched beneath hooded lids as she attempted to calm herself, looking in every direction except his. He was not sure due to the whirlwind of Miranda arriving, but he could have sworn he saw Trinity swear under her breath.

  He tried to put a composed smile over his face, turning his focus to the child.

  TRINITY

  T hat curious tremble assaulted her stomach again, and Trinity cupped her lower belly. She couldn't help herself — her body betrayed her at every turn. She had not been with another man except her husband.

  Yes, a four year plus hiat
us on sex, and she was ready to jump on the first man who looked sideways at her.

  Okay, it was more than that… he had learned so close she could feel his breath fanning her cheeks, his eyes on hers as if asking a question. She had been too muddled for questions. All she had she wanted were those lips on hers, and she had been seconds away from touching them.

  Then Miranda came home.

  In hindsight, she should be grateful, but she couldn't help the dissatisfaction that had made her new composure a joke.

  As if that was not enough, he could make her lose her mind by the way he looked in her eyes. He had sat back as if nothing happened and played the doting father through dinner.

  He read two stories to Miranda and tucked her in at her request. The easy love and camaraderie between the two of them had another organ twisting painfully — her heart. He looked even more handsome without all that intensity and imposing, and she wondered if she would ever get to taste his lips again.

  Twelve months, she reminded herself, then turned to pummel her pillow with a repulsive sigh.

  

  One look at her and anyone would know she barely slept a wink. Her body was on autopilot, her mind demanding coffee. The sound of multiple feet marching through the house had her eyes flying open and she hissed, regretting the sudden movement.

  Curiosity drove her down to the living room where delivery men, one after another, dropped huge parcels, then exited the room. Her lethargic mind couldn't quite think of what to make of the sight.

  Her phone rang. Bringing it to her ear without checking the caller ID, she said, "Hello?"

  "Hello Trinity." The voice was unmistakable.

  "Michael?" she said and instantly felt foolish — of course it was him.

  "Expecting someone else?" he asked in a playful tone.

  "N...no," she stammered. Even over the phone he could still make her feel flustered.

  "Good, have you seen the delivery men?"

  Trinity looked up as another man dropped a package on the floor and then left the room.

  "Yes, but I don't understand what’s going on."

  "This is for you." His voice filtered down the phone lines into her ears, and all her senses soaked it in.

  "For me?" she managed to choke out, completely confused.

  She had shopped for her and Miranda’s clothes a long time ago. And even if they did need something, the number of items coming through that door were tallying up to be a small mountain.

  "To add to your supplies," he clarified, slightly impatient.

  Realization dawned on her. "Oh."

  "I want to help in any way possible, so don't hesitate to call me if you need me to do something more," he continued.

  "Thank you, thank you so much!" She couldn't help it and jumped up and down, happiness gushing out of her.

  "You don't need to thank me," he replied with a low, amused chuckle.

  "But I'm really grateful." She beamed with excitement at the prospect of working on her supplies.

  Yesterday, she had been plagued by how much she still needed to get — today was not going to be like that. It’s as if he read her mind.

  "Are you really grateful?" He asked the question in a low tone that left her senses whimpering.

  "Yes!" She sounded eager — though for entirely different reasons than it had been. Her eyes shuddered for a moment to gather her composure, only for him to shatter it his next words.

  "Then have dinner with me." His voice lowered even more, affecting like a phantom caress.

  "When were you thinking?"

  "Be ready by six. The chauffeur will pick you up."

  "Where are we going?"

  "You’re so nosey." He chuckled, and her breath hitched at the dark spice in his laughter — it promised a million and one things, all decadent.

  "Ummm…" Eloquent? Not.

  "Anticipation is good for the soul, I hear." On that note, he dropped the call.

  Trinity inserted the phone into her robe pocket and supervised the placement of packages all around the living room — it was already filling up so fast there was barely space left. Some areas were already stacked with multiple boxes.

  Celia wandered into the pandemonium and Trinity quickly explained what was happening.

  "I told you he couldn't deny you a thing," the older woman crowed as a relaxed smile took hold of her face. Trinity was thankful at that moment for not being able to blush.

  "I didn't ask." She hated that her voice was suddenly small.

  "Even better," Celia replied and turned to go back to her domain.

  "Wait, will you... I mean can you babysit Miranda for me?"

  "I love the little gal, of course," she replied with ease and Trinity sighed in relief.

  "Thank you.”

  "Are you having dinner with Michael then?" It was more of a statement than a question really, but she answered anyway.

  "Yes," she admitted, somewhat shy. She caught the knowing look Celia gave her but she refused to acknowledge it.

  Instead, she turned to the hive activity of the never ending procession of delivery men. Already, the living room was looking like a warehouse.

  Trinity clutched her hands around herself, overwhelmed at the gesture and giddy at the promise of a date. She was only a little dizzy, well, more than a little dizzy. She bit her lip and the discomfort cleared her head…barely.

  MICHAEL

  H e was a grown man, and he held the livelihood of millions in the palm of his hand. He was an Ivy League educated man who was at present, if rumor was to be believed, handsome and eligible.

  Those were facts, but his body refused to believe him. It had started with the plan to buy out a shop to make her realize her dream, then asking her out to dinner when he had a five-star chef waiting at his convenience at home.

  But the most recent in a long line of inconveniences was her. Since he had asked her to dinner, his senses had melted into a soup of anticipation and he was entirely unproductive for the whole day.

  Recently, he caught himself with a wistful smile — it had to stop.

  He needed his senses working perfectly. But then he caught sight of her.

  The golden gown hugged her breasts and left her shoulders bare before flowing down a cascade of silk. A discreet slit teased him with a winning view of her calf. Long legs were accentuated by strappy heels as her hand fiddled with a matching small purse.

  He got to his feet without conscious thought…

  Mine, he thought, drinking in the vision that was walking towards him. But only for the next eleven months.

  The thought twisted something in him, but he shoved the emotion to the back of his mind. He caught her hand and kissed her wrist before guiding her to her chair.

  Dinner was silent at first, with Trinity fiddling with her bracelet as she took in the plush surroundings of the restaurant. He put his hand over hers and he saw her body relax and she let out a long breath.

  She had smiled at him and his hands ached with need to touch her face. She was doing things to him and she didn’t even seem to notice it. He was riveted by her, totally ensnared by her aura. He noticed her eyes stray to the menu, and they widened. He held in a chuckle, he had to admit, she was refreshing, a breath of fresh air in this stifled world he lived in.

  He remembered when he had proposed, she was flustered at the fact that she didn’t belong in his world.

  “At least there’s no shrimp fork here,” he teased her and he was rewarded by the spark of fire that came up in her eyes. She smiled, abashed as she pretended to mean mug him yet the curve of her lips betrayed her.

  She looked around, “Oh please, I’m sure there’s a shrimp fork here somewhere. I’ll just have to ask.” He laughed, a hearty sound. He had been doing that lately, laughing – deep, belly laughter. He couldn’t remember the last time he was so happy.

  They ordered and he noticed she asked for the cheapest things on the menu, he leaned back and smiled, waiting for the waiter to leave
before addressing her. “You do know that I can afford to get my wife anything on this menu that her heart desires?”

  She shrugged, seemingly embarrassed to be caught. What did she think, that he wouldn’t notice?

  He decided to let her off the hook, “How are the preparations coming for the Winter Goodwill program?”

  “Is that what you’re calling it now?” He recognized her attempt to stall for what it was and smiled, “I really want to know about it and there has to be a name for something as wonderful as what you’re doing.”

  She became animated almost immediately and he leaned back in his chair and watched her talk, “It’s going great. Thank you so much for giving me supplies. It helped more than you can imagine. I’d been thinking about what else to do. You helped so much. It has been such a relief. Miranda is even more excited than I am, whirling around trying to help me even more than she can, getting in my way. Driving me crazy.” She said the last part with a chuckle, and he laughed, knowing how Miranda could get. Her energy was overwhelming.

  Her smile dipped and he mourned its loss, wanting to see it again. It felt like the day had reduced its brightness and he felt the overwhelming urge to take her hands and promise her the world if just to get the smile back.

  “Why do you look so down all of a sudden?” he couldn’t help himself, he had to know what demons he had to fight.

  “Janaye called.”

  His gut tightened at the mention of her no-good cousin, he had had his secretary do some research and he knew exactly what kind of woman Janaye was, a no-good freeloader. It was a wonder she had survived for as long as she had. Most probably on the rent that Trinity had been paying.

  “And what did she want?” he made sure to keep his anger from showing so he didn’t freak her out.

  She winced and he knew he wasn’t as successful as he had hoped, “She wanted a ‘little something’ for all the times she had ‘helped me out.’” She put finger quotes around her words, her own anger igniting his own.

  “And?” he all but growled out.

  She shrugged, “I hung up.”

  His burst of laughter surprised her as much as it surprised him. “That’s my girl,” he put his hand on hers again as he said the words and things had never felt so right.