Rekindled, a Christmas Novella

by Marliss Melton

  God, how had she managed to conveniently “forget” the powerful chemistry they’d discovered together their senior year in high school? She hadn’t, not for a second! No wonder she’d thought herself so in love with him. Her first year in college, she’d dreaded being apart, couldn’t wait for the holidays so they could be together. After that, life became a roller-coaster ride—all thrills and giddy joy whenever Alex came home; drought-filled valleys and deserts whenever he was gone.

  No wonder she’d gotten to the point where she couldn’t take the ups and downs anymore, longing for something steady, something that didn’t keep her awake at night or eating antacids like they were candy.

  Now, in this tiny, cramped bathroom, she wondered if she hadn’t made a mistake in letting Alex go. Resentment followed on the heels of her doubt. What right did he have to crash back into her life, precisely when she thought she had her future figured out?

  “Stop it,” she bit out, knocking his hand away from hers and reaching for a paper towel before turning off the faucet.

  Alex put his hands in the air and backed away, his expression watchful.

  She blotted her fingers gingerly. “Look, it’s not your fault that I burned myself, but I think you need to leave.”

  His hands fell slowly to his sides. His lips firmed with what she recognized was resolve on his part. “I still have to put the sink back together,” he insisted.

  She almost told him she would do it, but with three burned fingers such a venture wouldn’t be the least bit fun. “Fine,” she agreed. “I . . . I appreciate your help,” she added, not sounding the least bit grateful, as she marched out of the bathroom and right past him. “But can you please do it quickly?” She couldn’t keep the desperation from her voice.

  “Why are you so mad at me?”

  She swung around to face him. “I’m not mad.” Her throbbing temples suggested otherwise. “But you can’t just barge in here and screw with my mind, Alex!”

  His brows knitted together, and he tipped his head to the side. “How am I screwing with your mind?”

  She gestured toward the door. “By coming in here at night—breaking in, no less. By bringing me gifts. I’m not your girlfriend anymore. I’m with someone else, okay? You can’t just waltz back into my life and . . . and . . . .” Confuse the hell out of me. Make me start to doubt myself.

  The confession died in the back of her throat. The sick truth of the matter was Tori wasn’t angry with Alex. She was angry with herself.

  His puzzled expression disappeared, replaced with something hard and inscrutable.

  Beholding the sudden lack of warmth in his eyes, Tori shivered.

  He already knows, she realized.

  Of course, he’d heard about Peyton. Had she actually believed for a moment that he hadn’t? Joel had probably informed him within five minutes of Alex’s return home.

  “I didn’t realize seeing me again would upset you so much,” he stated in a flat voice.

  “You’ve heard.” Her voice cracked, and she cleared her throat and tried again. “You know I’m dating Peyton.”

  He tipped his head in acknowledgment. “Yeah, of course. I’m happy for you,” he replied.

  She’d expected jealousy. But his sincere reply was a slap in the face, cementing her resolve. What had she expected? That he’d beg her to start up with him again? She should be relieved that he was letting go so easily.

  Why, then, did she feel an urge to throw the balled up paper towel at his head—or better yet, a baking pan?

  Blowing out a breath, Tori blurted. “I don’t understand. Why are you giving me gifts?”

  His shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Why not? We’re friends. I’ve known you since ninth grade.”

  She’d rationalized that much for herself, but it still struck her as odd. “OK, as long as you realize it doesn’t get you anywhere.”

  “Never thought it would.” He sent her a tight-lipped smile. “Take care of that burn,” he said, withdrawing so suddenly from the conversation that she felt momentarily abandoned. He headed for the kitchen. “I’ll put the sink back together and let myself out,” he added over his shoulder.

  Snapping out the light, she trailed after him. Her gaze fell on the box of Christmas decorations on the counter.

  “Need help with the box?” he offered.

  “Nope. I’ve got it.” Ignoring the twinge of discomfort, she eased the box off the island and started for the stairs. Feeling guilty for leaving Alex all alone, she turned at the doorway to regard him.

  He stood at the sink with his back to her, poking a knife into the U-bend. A mangled, filthy rag fell out and he held it up for her to see without even turning around. “Here’s the culprit.”

  “Thanks,” she said, infusing her voice with the gratitude she’d lacked earlier. Waking up to a clogged sink the next morning would have ruined her day and wrecked her business.

  “Think nothing of it,” he countered, his voice cool and detached. “That’s what friends are for, right?” he finished, before rolling his shoulders.

  The shoulder-roll betrayed him. He was more stressed than he was letting on.

  Watching him drop to the floor to replace the U-bend, she thought of Peyton, who had promised to fix her pipes but would never actually put his hands on them.

  Exhausted and feeling guilty for her disloyal thoughts, Tori turned away.

  “Good night,” she called as she climbed the stairs.

  Alex said nothing in return.

  Reaching her apartment, Tori shuffled the box around to unlock her door. She groped her way inside, flicking on the light switch with her elbow. As she set the box on the table, she recollected Alex’s gift and took a peek at it.

  Peyton had spoiled her. Given his attentiveness and the money at his disposal, he’d bought her some big-ticket items over the course of their courtship. Thanks to his generosity, she now watched movies on her sixty-inch flat screen TV. She didn’t have to put up with crappy data on her cell phone because Peyton had replaced it with a brand new iPhone last summer.

  Alex’s gifts, by comparison, were historically small. This one, as she lifted it out and looked at it, fit snugly into the palm of her hand. Taped to the outside was a white envelope, the slanted, bold strokes of black ink familiar.

  Sinking into an adjacent chair, she held the envelope by the edges, suddenly afraid to open it. A surge of nervous energy replaced her earlier fatigue. Sliding a fingernail under the flap, she separated the adhesive and pulled out the note.

  Tori ~

  When Mom told me about your ornaments, I knew I had to get you this. Remember how you always cheated to find the pickle on the tree? I’d hate for you to have to miss out this year because you broke your pickle.

  Alex ~

  He didn’t.

  She ripped into the present, lifting the lid off the box beneath it.

  There, nestled inside the plastic container, was a green metallic pickle ornament. A sound between a laugh and a sob escaped her.

  The Morrigans celebrated Christmas so differently than her own family. For one thing, they had heartfelt family traditions like leaving cookies for Santa, waiting to put the star on the tree until Christmas Eve, and hiding a pickle ornament on the tree for the kids to find on Christmas morning. Following Mr. Morrigan’s death, Rhonda took over hiding it. Whoever found it first got an extra present.

  The first year Tori had celebrated Christmas with her boyfriend’s family, she’d been included in the fun. Yes, she may have been a little sneaky, trying to see the pickle ornament before Joel or Alex did. Who doesn’t like an extra present? And Rhonda didn’t make the hunt easy. One of them would find it, get tackled by the other two, and have to hang on to the prize while being tickled mercilessly into giving it up.

  Only at the Morrigans had Tori felt like she could be fully herself. There was no untouchable Christmas tree with priceless ornaments and matching wreaths. No stuffy dinner the night before, with boring guests. No quiet, organi
zed dispensing of expensively wrapped presents that no one wanted. Instead, there was boisterous singing from Alvin and The Chipmunks. Inhaling helium balloons and laughing so hard you almost peed your pants. Wearing your pajamas all day if you wanted to and eating so much junk food, you felt you would burst.

  Tori’s family didn’t race down the stairs on Christmas morning and certainly didn’t wrestle each other in jest to get what was merely a small, simple gift.

  The fact that Alex remembered how much she’d loved being a part of all that only made the ache inside her grow until she couldn’t catch her breath.

  Alex knew her—the real Tori Wilde—inside and out.

  The future she’d planned with Peyton, who was so much like her own family, blurred as the tears fell unchecked down her cheeks. Yet, she was a product of her upbringing after all, wasn’t she? How could Alex make her happy with his thoughts constantly on his next assignment, and not on her?

  Her head throbbed, and she massaged her temples, hoping the answer would magically come to her.

  He’s thinking of you now, isn’t he?

  But that wasn’t what she wanted to hear because it wasn’t enough. Even if Alex was stationed ninety minutes up the road, he wouldn’t live in Edenton again until he retired. He’d moved on, and so should she.

  Placing the gift on her nightstand, Tori got ready for bed, and snapped off the light.

  Chapter Seven

  Sitting inside his new Audi A5, Peyton Fischer squeezed the steering wheel and wondered if Alex Morrigan posed to a threat to him for Tori’s affections. It sure as hell looked like it.

  Earlier, he’d driven past Just Desserts, intending to drop in and pick her brain about what she wanted for Christmas. However, as he’d slowed to pull up to the curb, he’d glimpsed something through her window that had made him accelerate and drive right past.

  Peyton’s soon-to-be-fiancée was holding hands with her ex-boyfriend, and they’d been heading for the stairs.

  Continuing down Broad Street, Peyton had turned into a deserted lot and considered what he’d seen.

  Of course, he’d heard Alex Morrigan was back in town, but it had never occurred to him Tori would want anything to do with her ex. After all, what could a man like Alex offer a woman of Tori’s stature? Surely, she only wanted him for the obvious—his red-hot physique. Peyton couldn’t fault her for that much. If he was gay—a circumstance he’d considered but wasn’t ready to explore—he wouldn’t mind having Alex in his bed, either.

  But what if it was more than just sex between Alex and Tori?

  Concern drilled a hole in Peyton’s already ulcerated stomach. He needed her to say yes when he proposed at Christmas. She wasn’t going to run to him with open arms if she was busy getting horizontal with her ex.

  Easy now, he told himself. Keeping a lid on his self-control was crucial. He needed to stay the course, as he always had, and eliminate the competition. What, if any, kind of threat did Alex Morrigan pose? When he knew the answer to that, he would deal with it.

  Pulling out of the lot, Peyton circled back to the bakery, slowing to a crawl as he passed the store. He searched the windows, but they were dark. A light in Tori’s second story window blinked out, validating his worst fears.

  So, that was the way of it. They were spending the night together.

  Desperation—not jealousy—bit into Peyton.

  He was up to his eyeballs in debt, and Victoria Wilde was the answer to his financial woes. Marrying Tori would put him back in his mother’s good graces. When Vivian Fischer discovered his slight gambling debts, she’d been crushed. Luckily, her castigations had been for his ears alone. If the good folks of Edenton learned how reckless Peyton had been with their capital, he’d be forever ruined. He’d never get a job in banking again, let alone preside in the office of the president.

  The buildings he owned on Broad Street required serious renovations, which his tenants had been demanding for months—except for Tori, who no doubt figured he would fix her building after they married.

  Replacing the existing heating and plumbing systems would cost a fortune—money he didn’t have, especially if she stopped paying rent, which she most certainly would. After all, how many wives paid rent to their own husbands?

  The loss of that monthly income would certainly hurt him. Sure, eventually, after her parents died, his sacrifice would pay off. But how long would it take for them to bite the dust—twenty years? Thirty?

  He really couldn’t wait that long. Borrowing money from his new in-laws without his wife being the wiser was his only hope for salvation. Stymied by his lack of options, he struck the steering wheel with the butt of his hand. Unless he thought of a way to pay off his debts, he would have to file for bankruptcy. For a man in his position, declaring bankruptcy was unthinkable. He would take his own life before publically disgracing himself.

  Swiping a hand over his eyes, Peyton noted the trembling of his fingers. He couldn’t let Alex Morrigan steal away his best hope for long-term security. And he couldn’t let his creditors back him into a corner, forcing him to disgrace himself.

  He had to do something, and he had to do it fast.

  Chapter Eight

  Alex weaved through the crowd with long, purposeful strides, desperate to escape the madness of the holiday shoppers. With the feeling that he had dodged mines all morning, he hefted his bags more securely in his grasp and made a beeline for the nearest exit.

  The shopping mall three days before Christmas was as treacherous as any warzone he’d ever been in. He’d been bumped into, cursed at, and finally, hit on by crazy Mrs. Finnegan who had gotten a little handsy during their brief encounter.

  The corners of his mouth turned up, and he shook his head. Not exactly the female he wanted pinching his butt as he bent over to pick out a green sweater for his mother, but she had managed to bring a smile to his face. Considering how badly his day had ended the night before, he hadn’t been sure he’d ever smile again.

  After analyzing his and Tori’s latest encounter, he’d concluded he was fighting a losing battle. How could she have stood that close to him, their bodies brushing, their hands touching, and not have turned to him and said she still loved him? Instead, while he was aching to put his arms around her and kiss her senseless, she’d insisted she belonged with Peyton, and she’d ordered Alex to leave.

  As if all the years they’d spent together and everything they’d shared meant nothing.

  Obviously, he couldn’t persuade her to switch her life around and instantly love him the way she used to. He’d done his best to show her what she still meant to him. He’d given her several opportunities to rekindle what they’d had, and she’d rejected him—at least with her words.

  Her body, however, had told a different story. He’d felt her respond to him. He’d seen her pupils dilate as she’d gazed into his eyes. He’d caught her staring at him when he’d sprawled across her kitchen floor to fix her sink. Felt the unmistakable thrum of her pulse under his hand as he held her wrist. She wasn’t as immune to him as she let on.

  Honestly, those telltale signs were the only things keeping him from throwing in the towel completely.

  The press of people thickened as he neared the food court just beyond JCPenney. As Alex veered left, hoping to avoid the congestion, awareness prickled his nape and he canvassed the incoming shoppers for a cause.

  A flash of russet hair caught his eye, causing him to slow his step as he automatically checked to see if it was Tori. His pulse spiked when he recognized her, still wearing her winter coat. Standing just outside the entrance of the store, she had her back to him, gesticulating with animated movements at her companion. Alex’s eyes slid two feet to the right, and he came to a sudden halt.

  Knowing Tori was involved with Peyton was one thing, but seeing them together was a kick in the balls.

  * * *

  Tori had been looking forward to the crowds and the clamor, but it was stressing Peyton out which, in turn, stressed he
r out.

  “I really shouldn’t be seen here,” he said, dragging his feet as soon as they’d entered the packed store. “People are going to think I’m cheap.”

  The comment made her whirl on him in disbelief. Since picking her up at the bakery for a shopping spree, he’d commented on the rip in her jeans and suggested she should dress better. In the parking lot, he fretted that his car would get a ding in the packed parking lot. Now the latest remark.

  “Who cares what people say, Peyton? This isn’t middle school; it’s the real world. Shopping at JCPenney doesn’t make me cheap.” She gestured broadly to vent her frustration. “It makes me smart with money. You should take lessons,” she added, harping back to his recent request that she pay her rent money early. The long holiday would delay her deposit, he’d explained, and he’d overextended himself buying Christmas gifts.

  Her vehemence had him putting his hands on her shoulders, much the way her mother did when she lectured her. He leveled her with a kind, yet condescending look. “Now, calm down, sweetie. Everyone can hear you.”

  The endearment made her grit her teeth. Peyton seemed to care a bit too much what everyone thought. His only valid complaint so far was that the mall was crowded. The entire town seemed to have waited until the last minute to get their shopping done. But this was Sunday, damn it, the only day of the week she closed up her shop and tended to personal affairs. If she didn’t buy the items still on her list, she’d have two very sad nieces and an irate sister to deal with.

  Suddenly, without warning, Peyton dipped his head and crushed his mouth to hers, kissing her so unexpectedly that she parted her lips to protest, only to feel his tongue slip between her teeth.

  “What the—?” she sputtered when he released her. “What has gotten into you?” she demanded, wondering why one minute he was worrying what other people thought of him and the next he was shoving his tongue down her throat.