The Billionaire's First Christmas

by Holly Rayner

  “So, did you like it?” she asked me.

  I shrugged, trying to play it cool as I said, “It was okay.”

  She laughed and said, “Okay… yeah right. You loved it. I see the tears in your eyes.”

  “I’m allergic to cats,” I told her. “That’s allergy you see in my eyes.” She giggled and looked at the clock.

  “I should start dinner.”

  “Are we having it for lunch?” I asked her.

  “I thought mid-day would be good. Is that okay with you?” she asked.

  “Perfect,” I told her. “Can I help you do something?”

  “Sure, follow me and I’ll put you to work,” she told me with a smile.

  I did as I was told, and she did as promised. She laid out the ingredients I would need to make a salad and handed me a knife. I cut and sliced and chopped as she split open the lobsters and seasoned them and then seasoned and tenderized the steaks. I hadn’t ever cooked dinner with a woman. It was an intimate experience, reaching across each other for things and sliding past her to get to the sink. I was breathing heavily and my palms were sweaty fifteen minutes into it.

  “Can you hand me that pepper grinder?” she asked.

  I picked it up and held it out to her. When she took it from me out fingers brushed against each other and I felt the shock waves all the way into my toes. Our eyes met and for about a second I considered kissing her again. Instead, I decided to give her something that I thought she might appreciate more… I told her about my life and why I hated Christmas.

  ROBYN

  I stood there in the kitchen with my hand on the pepper grinder and our fingers touching… and I didn’t want to let go. His touch was electric, even fingertips. Finally, he took a step back. I wasn’t surprised; it was what I was used to. There was something holding him back, keeping him from taking that next step. He didn’t take his eyes from my face though as he said, “I guess, since you’ve shared so much with me that it’s about time I share something with you.”

  I didn’t want to break the spell that made him suddenly want to talk to me, so I didn’t say anything. Instead, I just pulled out a chair and quietly took a seat. He took the other one and said, “I’m sorry that I’ve acted like it was a big mystery. The truth is that it’s just really hard for me to even think about, much less talk about.” He looked so distressed and I could see on his face how hard this was for him. I reached across the table and covered his hand with mine.

  “I would like to know as much about you as you want to tell me. But if this is too hard, it’s okay.”

  He covered my hand with his other one. His hands were so warm and my whole body felt tingly again.

  “I want you to know me,” he said. “I was born to a couple of amazing people. My dad was an iron worker and my mother was a stay at home mom like yours. Christmas in our house was the best… well, compared to yours, maybe not the absolute best, but close,” he said with a grin. “My mother started baking in November. The house always smelled like apples and cinnamon and pumpkin pie. Even today when I smell those things, I get a warm feeling in my chest, like when I walked in here this morning. It reminded me of home.”

  That made me feel better than anything he’d said so far. “I’m glad,” I said.

  “My father worked hard and I learned later on in my life that although he didn’t make much money, they had stocked away a good sum to leave for me in case anything happened to them. I’m always grateful for that, but sometimes I wonder if planning for the worst encourages the worst to happen.”

  “I had those thoughts myself after my parents passed away, but honestly I think that I’ve decided to believe that there is a cosmic plan for us all, no matter how difficult it is for us to understand.”

  He nodded and then said, “When I was eight years old, my parents went out on December twenty-third to finish their Christmas shopping. We had a tree filled with gifts already, so I couldn’t imagine what they had left to buy. I had a babysitter who sat for me often since I was a baby. She tucked me in that night and we both talked about how strange it was that my parents weren’t home yet. They’d been gone a really long time by then and I’d started to worry. She kissed my forehead and told me not to worry, they would be home soon. I think I had just started to drift off when I heard the phone ringing. Then minutes later, I heard the babysitter, Shirley begin to cry. I knew that something bad had happened. I’d felt it in my bones before I went to bed. I stayed in my bed and covered up my head. When Shirley stopped crying and she came in to tell me I pretended like I was asleep. I was hoping that she would go away and not say it out loud. If she said it out loud, that would make it too real.”

  I squeezed his hand. I could see the tears forming in the corners of his eyes. I wanted to tell him to stop talking because I could tell how much it was hurting him, but he seemed like he needed to get this out. He’d probably needed to for a long time. He took a minute to compose himself before going on.

  “They were in an accident and Shirley told me they didn’t suffer. I was only eight, but I knew she said that for my benefit as well. The next day I was still refusing to come out of my room. A police officer came by the house to bring my parents things by. Shirley was still there with me, she was trying to reach my aunt and uncle in Newark who were my only living relatives at that point. The police man came up to see me. When he walked into my room, he was carrying a bow and arrow set. It was Christmas Eve and that was what I had asked Santa Claus for. For a second, my eight year old heart wanted to believe that Santa had left it. My eight year old brain knew that wasn’t the case before he told me. He said the bow and arrow were found in their car the night of the accident. He had no way of knowing that what he was telling me was taking away my belief in Santa Claus forever, but it did. I found out later that the car was completely totaled, but the bow and arrow didn’t have a scratch. They’d rushed out that night to get me that stupid bow and arrow set and that was why they died.”

  “Oh Aaron! You blamed yourself. You were just a little boy!”

  “I did blame myself for a long time, but then I took that anger at myself and I turned it on Christmas. I blamed Christmas for everything that was wrong in my life and my resentment for it never faded, it grew and made a wall around my heart. A wall that was un-penetrable, until you came along.”

  “I knew something terrible must have happened to you in order for you to dislike Christmas so much. Did your aunt and uncle raise you?”

  “No, they weren’t able to take me. They had four children of their own. I was sent to a foster home and I bounced from one to the next. No one wanted to adopt an angry eight year old.”

  My heart was literally breaking. It hurt in my chest. “I’m so sorry, Aaron.”

  He smiled at me and said, “You shouldn’t be. You were the only one who got through to me. Do you know what the difference is between you and others that have set out to chip away at that wall?”

  “No, what’s that?” I asked.

  “You’ve treated me like a human being since that first day.”

  “Other people look at me and see a CEO or a rich man and they treat me differently than they treat each other, even Janice who knows me better than anyone. She still calls me “Mr. Winters.” You look at me the same as you would any other man.”

  “Not exactly,” I told him.

  “How’s that?” he said.

  “I see someone much more special than any other man I’ve ever known when I look at you,” I finally told him. He smiled and just as he seemed to be leaning in to kiss me, the timer went off for the steaks.

  He laughed and said, “I’m going to hang on to that thought.”

  “You better,” I said, as I got up to get our dinner out of the oven.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ~

  AARON

  I unburdened myself at last. I didn’t realize how cathartic it was going to be. It felt like a fifty pound weight had been lifted off my chest finally. I was sorry I’d carried i
t around and dwelled on it for so long, but I was glad that I’d waited until I met Robyn to do it at the same time. Everything about her radiated warmth and acceptance and made me feel safe. She wasn’t looking at me like I was an idiot for wasting the last twenty Christmases being angry and feeling sorry for myself. She was looking at me with empathy and compassion and it made me drawn to her that much more.

  While she put the steaks and the lobster on the table, I tossed the salad I made with some vinegar and oil and put that on the table. She reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of wine. Sitting it down on the table she said, “My best friend gave this to me for Christmas last year. I was saving it for a special occasion. I think this is it.” It was a 2011 V. Sattui Gamay Rouge, a very good dry Rose wine that I’d had before and enjoyed very much.

  She sat and then I did too and we began to eat. The steak was delicious, juicy and flavorful. The lobster was tender and she’d served it with a seasoned butter sauce that she made herself.

  “This is amazing,” I told her.

  She smiled, “It is really yummy, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, and that salad… I don’t even have words for how fabulous it is.”

  She giggled, “I was just about to say that it was the best part of the meal.”

  When we finished our dinner, I helped her do the dishes and clean up the kitchen. It was nice and once again, an intimate experience. It was almost two when we finished.

  “Okay, what’s next in Robyn and Aaron’s Christmas day of fun?” he asked.

  “Is it too soon for dessert?” she asked me. I couldn’t resist. I made an up and down motion with my eyebrows and then I looked her over like she was on the menu. She got it and laughed, saying, “It’s definitely too soon for all that. I meant cheesecake. I made one yesterday and it’s chilling in the fridge.”

  “Mm, cheesecake sounds great, but I’m afraid we’ll have to wait just a bit if I don’t want to pop right out of my jeans.” Her dinner had literally stuffed me.

  “Yeah, me too,” she said, patting her belly. “Then on to the board games.”

  “Board games?”

  “Yep, board games, snowman, caroling…”

  “Excuse me? Caroling?”

  “Yes, of course. You don’t sing?”

  “I never have,” I told her.

  “Never? Like never, ever? Not even in the shower?”

  “Well of course I sing in the shower, doesn’t everyone?”

  “You sang at the park that day with me too…”

  “It was lip syncing,” I told her.

  She laughed and said, “Okay, well I think it’s still snowing out there. You can just pretend it’s the shower raining down on you.”

  “I’m sure it will be exactly the same,” I said, slightly sarcastically. She laughed at me and went to set up the board game. I hadn’t played a board game since I was maybe ten or eleven years old. I wasn’t going to tell her that though. I was extremely competitive. Admitting fear led to defeat, so as far as she was concerned I played scrabble and battleship twice a day. “So which game are we playing?” I asked.

  “Monopoly,” she said.

  I laughed my evil, take over the world laugh. She was going to dare play monopoly with a world famous business mogul?

  “Don’t look so confident Mr. Winters Inc. It’s not as easy as running a business.”

  I laughed again, “You think?”

  “Yep, running a business is mostly skill. Rolling the dice is about getting lucky and I’ve got all the skills in that department.” She handed me one die and said, “Let’s roll to see who goes first.” We rolled. She got a six and I got a two and that was the way the rest of the game went. By the time I finally gave up and surrendered over an hour later to her mighty monopoly skills, she owned most of the board and I was broke. It was a humiliating thing for a business mogul. It was also one more thing about her that made me feel like a normal person. She wasn’t afraid to be competitive with me.

  “If you ever go into business, promise me something?” I asked her.

  “Sure, what’s that?”

  “Promise that you won’t start your company in any market that will compete with mine.”

  She laughed and said, “I promise, but you better start saving me a country or two now, because I’m on my way.”

  I didn’t doubt that she was.

  ROBYN

  Aaron and I had cheesecake and coffee after our monopoly game. I didn’t want to embarrass him, so I didn’t ask, but I got the feeling he’d never played. I was beginning to discover that there were a lot of “normal” things he’d never done. I looked outside and saw that the snow had slowed.

  “Okay, it’s snowman time!”

  “Excuse me?” he said as if he was surprised. I was sure I had mentioned it.

  “Didn’t I say that earlier? It was on the agenda.”

  “I thought you were kidding,” he said.

  “I would never kid about making a snowman,” I told him. “You brought gloves, right?”

  “Oh no! I don’t think I did.” He was fibbing.

  “Yep! Here they are,” I told him. He’d taken them off when he was petting Mr. Pibbs earlier and put them on the table.

  “Oh… goody,” he said, sarcastically.

  We bundled up and went outside. I led him to a little courtyard on the side of my apartment complex. The snow was barely falling now, but enough had fallen during the night and morning that making a snowman was going to be easy. I started packing the snow so that I could roll a big bottom when I noticed that Aaron was making little piles of snow and then tamping them down with his gloves.

  “What are you doing?” I asked him.

  “Making a snowman.”

  “That’s not how you do it.”

  “You make your snowman and I’ll make mine,” he said. I rolled my eyes and got back to work rolling my snow bottom. I guess it would be his fault if his snowman wasn’t as brilliant as mine, I’d offered to help.

  I had my back to him, but what could have only been ten minutes later he said, “Done!”

  “You are not… Oh my goodness!” In ten minutes, the man who hated cold weather and Christmas only two days ago had built the most beautiful snowman I had ever seen. “He’s beautiful!” I said. His face lit up like a child. He was so proud of his work. “You’ve definitely done this before.”

  “Thank you,” he said, “But no, this is my first snowman. It’s all about mechanics though. I’m good at building and designing things.” Looking over at my half-rolled snow bottom with his lips quirking like he was trying to hold back a smile he said, “Yours is…”

  “Not finished,” I told him, turning my back on him again, I got back to work. I was rarely outdone in the snowman department and by a first timer to boot. Another five minutes or so passed when I felt the whiz of a snowball next to my head. I looked around and Aaron was still the only one out here with me. He was trying hard to look innocent.

  “Did you just throw a snowball at me?” I asked him, incredulously.