Christmas Box Set

by Nella Tyler

  Banks sat down next to me. We were still oddly quiet, though it felt comfortable, too. There was something about Banks by himself that let me relax, too. Not as much as with Brian Sr., but in a different way. Now that I was safely away from his parents and their offer of a family-style Thanksgiving dinner at their humongous estate, I realized how foolish and rude I’d been.

  I turned to him, meaning to apologize for just running out of the restaurant without even saying goodbye. But we were too close to each other, and Banks took me by either side of my face, his long, cool fingers snaking around the back of my neck as they brought me closer. He kissed me, and though I was stunned, I opened my mouth to him, my eyes drifting shut as his tongue slid past my lips, causing a frisson to run over my skin from head to booted toe. The heat cranked up, casting out the coolness of the day as we kissed each other harder.

  I pulled away, blinking, and slapped Banks across the face, hard. I wiped off my mouth, trying to cast off the sweet taste of him.

  “You can’t do that,” I whispered breathlessly, shaking my head. My eyes felt ready to bug out of my skull. I couldn’t believe I’d hit him, but I also couldn’t believe he’d kissed me. “It’s not right.”

  “Maggie,” he started, but I didn’t let him finish.

  “You need to leave.” I stood up as he craned his head back on his neck to keep meeting my eyes. I didn’t wait for him to answer. I just stormed inside my house, somehow managing to unlock the door quickly and get into the door before he could utter a word or stop me. I slammed it shut and turned the lock to keep him out. I hadn’t expected him to kiss me like that, and I didn’t want him to come after me, either. I just wanted him to leave.

  I looked through the peephole, watching him still sitting on the porch step, turned so he could stare at the closed front door. He stood slowly, seeming dazed, and took a single step towards the door, but then he appeared to think better of it, and retreated in the direction of the street a few steps before stopping. I couldn’t see his face clearly through the peephole, but his body language made it look like he couldn’t decide whether to stay or go. Finally, he turned and left, looking over his shoulder once before stepping out the limited view of the peephole.

  I touched my lips, where I swore I could still feel his heat, and smiled just a little. I hadn’t been kissed like that in more than a year. The wealth of conflicting feelings it created in me was confusing, but the primary emotion was guilt. I shouldn’t have kissed him back. That was BJ’s best friend. I’d betrayed his memory and the love we’d had for each other by doing what I’d just done.

  I burst into tears, sinking onto the floor and dropping my forehead onto my knees. I couldn’t stop for a long time. I kept seeing BJ’s face before he left on what should’ve been a quick trip into the city. Now I was alone. When would this grief subside? When would I be able to think about BJ and smile? When would I start to feel like moving on wasn’t akin to stabbing my late husband in the back?

  Banks

  Thursday

  Focusing at work was close to impossible. I’d had a number of meetings and teleconferences, which had helped because I was actively talking and listening as others made suggestions for the direction the company would take in the following year, but in between those meetings I couldn’t keep my mind from going back to Maggie.

  I sat back in the chair at my desk, rubbing my face hard with both hands in an attempt to take physical hold of my focus and forcibly apply it where I needed it to go, but I just couldn’t make it work. Maggie was always right there, her beautiful face in shock after what I’d done. How could I have kissed her like that? What the hell was wrong with me? Of course, she’d reacted by slapping me across the face. She should’ve done a lot worse than that. I had no right to do what I did and I couldn’t even really understand what had made me do it. My feelings had been building steadily for her over the last several months, but that was no excuse. And, anyway, I’d decided never to act on those feelings out of respect for both BJ and Maggie. When she turned to me last night, her green eyes so wide and open and lips parted, as though in invitation, I just hadn’t been able to help it.

  Groaning, I sat back up, dropping my hands from my face and looking hard at the computer monitor. I’d struggled all day with how to make things up to Maggie. I wanted to call her but was afraid she wouldn’t answer the phone if she saw who was on the line. A text was too impersonal, and she’d probably just erase it if she didn’t want to hear from me. I could show up unannounced to the shop the way I usually did, but I didn’t want to invade her safe space after what had just happened. Going back to her house was out of the question after she’d asked me to leave yesterday afternoon. I had to find another way to make sure she knew how sorry I was. Once I’d done that, I would just need to wait for her to either accept my apology or blow me off completely. Either way, I’d respect her decision.

  I brightened a little as an idea occurred to me. I could send her a bouquet of flowers. Dad always did that for Mom when she was down—of course, the bouquet was normally accompanied by some expensive jewelry or tickets to a current Broadway show or overseas trip. I shook my head as my momentarily buoyant mood deflated again. Flowers would send the same message that attempting to kiss her had just done, right? That we were more than friends. Men didn’t send flowers to women who were their good buddies. That gesture carried with it a certain kind of intimacy. Even if I didn’t mean it that way, Maggie would probably take it that way, considering I’d just kissed her. I needed to come up with something else.

  I realized another thing was bothering the hell out of me today besides the total cock up with Maggie. I missed BJ. If he were here, he’d be able to talk me down from the figurative edge and focus my thoughts like only he could. He’d always been so levelheaded and logical when it came to deciding on the right way to move forward after a mistake or setback. I had to swallow back a miserable laugh at the irony of this situation. Here I was wishing I had my best friend to call about this mess I’d created with Maggie, but if BJ was alive, I’d never even be in this situation to begin with, because BJ and Maggie would still be happily married. As much as I wanted more than a friendship with Maggie, I’d rather see BJ alive and well and in a rock solid relationship with his wife. We were all so happy a little over a year ago. I just wanted those times back again.

  I shook my head and forced myself to get back on task. I had so much shit to get done today and I couldn’t afford to stay distracted. Before I could get started, I went online and ordered the damned flowers. I couldn’t help myself. Calling Maggie felt too presumptuous, as did dropping by the shop without calling first, and I couldn’t just let things go as they were without at least trying to fix what I’d broken. My folks had raised me better than that. When you made a mistake, you owned up to it. But I was careful to pick a bouquet of flowers that were more friendly and less what a lover might send—a dozen daisies with a card that read I’m so sorry, Mags. You’re one of my best friends. Simple and sweet. I hoped it would be well-received and that she wouldn’t think I was trying to demand something from her that she wasn’t able to give.

  I felt a little better after that, like the matter was now out of my hands, and I was able to focus on the many tasks in front of me. I had a few more meetings later in the afternoon and plenty of work to do before then. I fell into it, only coming up for air when Jane buzzed me to let me know the conference room was set for my meeting. I handled that with the help of another coworker—a woman who’d taken the position in the company that I used to hold before Dad retired—and was ready to leave the office just after 6, which I counted as a win, considering how much I’d had to do when I arrived in the morning.

  I had some reports to take home with me, but it was minimal. I could easily review them over dinner, which I planned to order in. Best to avoid running by the shop, even though I had something to discuss with Jackson. I sent him a text, letting him know I was stuck at the office until later tonight and I’d get with
him sometime in the next few days. I didn’t want to crowd Maggie until after I’d heard from her.

  I loaded the reports into my briefcase and was just getting into my jacket when my cell phone rang. Maggie’s face was staring up at me from the screen—it was a picture I’d taken of her at the shop one Sunday when all three of us had been screwing around. Her green eyes were narrowed in amusement and she was smiling beautifully. I adored that picture now, though I hadn’t thought much about it one way or the other back then.

  “Hi,” I said, speaking cautiously. “Is everything okay?”

  “I’m fine. Everything’s fine,” she said, but she didn’t sound entirely fine. “But we need to talk.”

  “Yeah, I know. Listen—” but she kept rolling, not giving me the opportunity to finish, which was probably best. I’d had no idea what I was about to say. Probably something stupid.

  “Not right now. This needs to be done in person.”

  “Okay.” I was stunned by the call and the authoritative tone of her voice. I decided to let her get to whatever it was she wanted to tell me. I was the one who’d messed everything up, not her.

  “Can you stop by tomorrow night after you get off work? I can whip something up for dinner.”

  A wave of relief washed over me. I hadn’t realized how worried I was that I’d screwed things up so badly we’d never be able to return to the friendship we’d had.

  “Of course. I’d be happy to come by.” I bit my tongue when an apology tried to spring out for a second time. That could wait until tomorrow when we were speaking in person.

  “Great,” she said. “I’ll see you then.”

  “I’ll try to get out of here around 5,” I said.

  “Okay. Bye, Banks.”

  “Goodbye.” I hung up the phone, just turning the conversation over in my head. I considered the flowers I’d ordered. Maybe I should cancel those now that I had a meeting planned with her. I could pick flowers up from the store and give them to her tomorrow night. I shook my head as I picked my briefcase up off my desk and left my office. Everyone else had left a little after 5, except Jane, who stayed until about 15 minutes ago after delivering my printed out schedule for the following day, like she always did. I liked to review it before going to sleep so I knew exactly what the next day would hold.

  As I walked out to the garage, I decided to let the order for the flowers stand. Maggie deserved them. Not just because of my gaff yesterday—not that I necessarily regretted the act and feeling of kissing her, but I did regret how I’d overstepped my role as friend and upset her—but because she was a genuinely nice and sweet person who could use a little pick-me-up, which I hoped the flowers would be.

  I climbed into my sports car, fired up the engine, loving the feeling of it roaring to life underneath me, and backed out of the parking space. I was finally heading home after a long day, and things seemed a lot better than they had when I’d arrived that morning. It wasn’t a lot of progress, but I’d take what I could get.

  Maggie

  Friday

  I’d been home from the shop for a few hours, cutting out at 4 so I could come home, shower, change into something comfortable and flattering, but not too sexy, and put a decent meal together for dinner in preparation for Banks’s visit. I was so packed full of anxious energy, I couldn’t sit still. I’d cleaned the house from top to bottom last night instead of sleeping—not that I was actually able to sleep very well these days—even going so far as to drop to my hands and knees and wipe down the baseboards. The house looked clean and smelled like the homemade lasagna I’d put in the oven an hour ago. Still, I couldn’t stop pacing and maniacally scrutinizing the house for any sign of filth or disorder.

  The timer went off, cutting through the intricate and endless web of my anxiety. It was easier to calm down now that I had a definitive task to perform.

  I walked into the kitchen, pausing briefly in front of a vase of beautiful daisies that had arrived earlier today at the shop. I’d blushed like a little girl as all the mechanics asked me who they were from. I told them it was none of their business and to get back to work. They’d continued teasing me all day long about my secret admirer before I finally broke down and told them the flowers were from my mom. Jackson didn’t seem to buy it, but he and the rest of the crew let it go.

  I’d set a bottle of red wine—otherwise known as liquid courage if I was being honest—out on the counter next to the flowers. Next to that, I’d left a decorative trivet. I punched the button on the microwave to turn off the timer and then pulled open the oven to retrieve the bubbling lasagna sitting inside on the top rack. It smelled amazing and looked even better. I hadn’t been able to eat all day, but I was starving now. I’d already had a glass of wine and felt a little tipsy after pouring it onto an empty stomach.

  I set the steaming hot lasagna onto the trivet and smiled at my handiwork. I was an excellent cook. Mom had taught me early that the best way to a man’s heart was directly through his stomach. It was part of the reason I’d attracted BJ. He’d come into the pizza place where I was working and asked me to surprise him with the best thing we had on the menu. I thought he was pretty cute, so I whipped up a calzone that wasn’t on the menu, adding a little extra kick to the marinara sauce and cooking it just right, the dough turning a nice golden brown. He remarked that it was the best thing he’d ever tasted in his life and he’d be a fool not to ask me out after that. I said yes. The rest was history. Access to BJ’s stomach had shuttled me all the way to his heart. I wasn’t really sure why I was thinking that way now. I wasn’t trying to land Banks, was I? We were just friends.

  But I hadn’t been able to get the kiss out of my mind since it happened. I’d kept pretty busy over the last day or two, but every time I paused, even for a second, or at night as I lay in bed wishing for sleep, the heat of that kiss would come back to me. It couldn’t have gone on for more than 20 seconds before I put a stop to it. But I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I kept chiding myself, repeating that it hadn’t been anything more intense than a brief touch of the lips and I needed to put it behind me where it belonged. But it felt like a lot more than that. I’d wanted to open myself to him in a way I’d only ever done with BJ. It was frustrating and confusing, because I didn’t feel ready to move on, but my body seemed to know what it wanted better than my head did.

  The knock at the door tugged me out of the sticky repetitiveness of my thoughts. I sucked in a deep breath as I considered putting my mouth right on the bottle of wine and draining as much of it as I could in a few deep swallows. But that was ridiculous. I had no reason to be nervous. Banks and I were friends. And, really, the kiss itself bothered me less than why I thought he tried to kiss me in the first place. I always saw something kind and pitying in his gray eyes when he gazed at me. I’d seen it in his parents’ eyes too. I saw it in my own mother’s eyes. Everyone felt sorry for me because BJ was dead and I was alone. I put on a brave face when I was around people, but they had to know this was a struggle for me. The only person I didn’t get that feeling of overwhelming sympathy from was Brian Sr. When I looked at him, I saw only sadness, and I could let him see the sadness in me, too. We were real with each other in a way we just couldn’t be with anyone else. We saw each other clearly and without artifice, and that affirmation had a healing quality.

  A second series of knocks pulled me out of my thoughts again. I muttered under my breath at how ridiculous I was being. I needed to get it together so I could accomplish what I needed to do tonight. I wanted Banks in my life, but as a friend. At least, that was what I thought I wanted. I didn’t want any awkwardness to lurk between us.

  I opened the door and stepped aside to let Banks enter. He unbuttoned his jacket, revealing a long-sleeved button-up shirt tucked into a pair of jeans. Even dressed in casual clothes he looked well put together, the sweet masculine scent of his cologne invading my nostrils.

  “I’m glad you made it,” I said to him as he removed his jacket and hung it in the coat
closet. He knew his way around this house after so many hours spent here with BJ and me.

  “I’m glad you invited me,” he replied. He sniffed at the air. “It smells great in here.”

  I smiled, but carefully. “Thanks. Come on into the kitchen.” I went that way and he followed me, his steps heavier on the wood floors than my own. It smelled even better in here than it did out in the foyer. I’d set the table already with two place settings. But I wanted to get something out of the way before we sat down to eat. There was even a chance that we wouldn’t sit down at all, depending on how Banks answered my questions. I turned to him and he stopped in his tracks, eyebrows slightly lifted. The daisies were on the counter between us. I motioned toward them.

  “Thanks for the flowers,” I said, deciding to ease into what I had to say instead of jumping right into it. “They’re beautiful.” I didn’t mention the note that had come with them. I still had that tucked into my desk at work. Something about the straightforward message had touched me, and I could imagine him typing it out when he ordered the delivery.

  “You’re welcome,” he said. “I’m glad you liked them.” He looked like he wanted to say a lot more, so I stayed quiet to give him the opportunity. I didn’t worry about getting to what I had to say. We wouldn’t be eating until I got that out.

  “Listen, Maggie, I’m sorry about what happened the other day. I don’t know what came over me.”