One Bed for Christmas

by Jackie Lau

  One Bed for Christmas

  A Baldwin Village Novella

  Jackie Lau

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, companies, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 Jackie Lau. All Rights Reserved.

  First edition: December 2018

  ISBN: 978-1-7753047-4-6

  Editor: Latoya C. Smith, LCS Literary Services

  Cover Design: Flirtation Designs

  Cover photograph: Shutterstock

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Meet Wes Cheng...

  Author’s Note

  Prologue | Wes

  Chapter 1 | Caitlin

  Chapter 2 | Wes

  Chapter 3 | Caitlin

  Chapter 4 | Wes

  Chapter 5 | Caitlin

  Chapter 6 | Wes

  Chapter 7 | Caitlin

  Chapter 8 | Wes

  Chapter 9 | Caitlin

  Chapter 10 | Wes

  Chapter 11 | Caitlin

  Chapter 12 | Wes

  Epilogue | Caitlin

  Thank You!

  About the Author

  Also by Jackie Lau

  Meet Wes Cheng...

  Let me be clear: I’ve been friends with Caitlin Ng for more than a decade, and I’ve had a crush on her for just as long. And I’ve known, all that time, that I wasn’t her type.

  When we met, we were both studying computer engineering at university. She was near the top of the class, and I was in danger of flunking out. Now, she’s a CEO, and I, well...

  I’m wearing an inflatable T-Rex costume and dancing along to Christmas carols sung by an elderly barbershop quartet.

  Yes, I’m being paid to do this.

  And that’s how Caitlin finds me when she leaves work late in the middle of a snowstorm. She asks to stay with me because her house is farther away and her power is out. Of course, I say yes.

  When the heat goes out in my apartment and she asks me to join her in bed to snuggle for warmth, I say yes, too.

  But being so close to her is dangerous for my heart...or could a weekend of Christmas fun actually lead to the romance I desire?

  Author’s Note

  One Bed for Christmas can be read as a standalone romance, but it’s also a prequel novella for my next series, Baldwin Village.

  Baldwin Village is a real place in downtown Toronto, east of Chinatown and Kensington Market. It’s a small section of Baldwin Street where the houses have been converted to a diverse set of restaurants, shops, and cafés, many with nice patios out front.

  This series revolves around a fictionalized version of Baldwin Village—all of the businesses are of my own creation. It’s meant to feel like a multicultural village within a big city.

  The first novel, The Ultimate Pi Day Party, focuses on a pie shop, Happy as Pie, which is mentioned in this novella.

  To get the latest updates on my releases and other news, sign up for my newsletter here.

  Prologue

  Wes

  Twelve years ago...

  It’s only the third day of class, and already I’ve missed one lecture.

  I should have been in physics two hours ago, but I didn’t wake up when my alarm went off, and now that I’m living away from home, there’s no one to yell at me when I dare to sleep past eight.

  There’s also no one to stop me from playing foosball until two in the morning. Funny how that happened.

  I hurry across campus and jerk open the door to the building where I have calculus. I’m a couple minutes late, but I’m determined to make it and maybe even take notes. I’m in my first year of computer engineering at Waterloo, and I should at least make a bit of an effort.

  My knapsack slung over my shoulder, I hurry toward the lecture hall that’s just over—

  Shit. I’m going the wrong way. As I said, it’s only the third day of class, and I still don’t know what I’m doing. Clearly.

  Okay, the lecture hall is in sight. Almost there.

  I’m reaching for the door handle when all of a sudden there’s a blow to my head and I fall, hitting my head again on the floor.

  Blearily, I open one eye. I must have been out for a few seconds.

  And then I open my other eye so I can get a proper look at the sight before me.

  “Oh my God,” the Asian girl leaning over me says. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to smack you in the head when I opened the door.”

  I know her. There aren’t a lot of girls in my class, and she’s the one who wears shirts with actual buttons and sits in the front row and occasionally asks intelligent questions. She’s the kind of girl who wouldn’t sleep through her physics lecture and wouldn’t be running late to calculus...although it appears that’s what she was doing today, like me.

  She’s also gorgeous, I realize now. In fact, I rather like lying on the floor outside the door to my calculus class, one hand pressed to the bump forming on my head, if it means I get to look at her. She has long, shiny black hair, dark eyes, and really awesome lips. I don’t know what makes them so awesome—I just got hit in the head twice, after all—but I think they would be really great lips to kiss. She’s wearing a short-sleeved white shirt (with buttons, of course), a teal vest, and a headband.

  Suddenly, I find headbands extraordinarily sexy.

  “Are you okay?” she asks, and to my surprise, she pulls out a goddamn first aid kit from her knapsack. Who carries a first aid kit to class?

  I kind of love it, though.

  She presses a hand to my forehead, and oh my God. I groan because it feels so good when she touches me.

  This girl, however, seems to think my groan is a sign that I’m in terrible pain. I suppose I haven’t actually spoken yet, and she worries I have a serious head injury.

  I’m not thinking clearly, but it’s not because I hit my head.

  “What’s your name?” she asks.

  “Wes.”

  “I’m Caitlin.”

  And that’s how I fell in love with Caitlin Ng.

  Chapter 1

  Caitlin

  It’s eight thirty on a Saturday night, and I’m at the office.

  I know, I know, I’m pathetic.

  Not only is it a Saturday night, but it’s the Saturday before Christmas, which is on Tuesday. I don’t have anything planned for Christmas, though. My parents are spending the holidays in Hong Kong, and I have no siblings, no other family in Canada. Mom wanted me to go with them, but the idea of spending two weeks away from my company gave me heart palpitations.

  Sometimes it’s still hard to believe that this is my life: I’m the CEO of Match Me, one of the most popular dating apps in the world. I worry that one day, I will open my eyes at five in the morning, and it’ll all be gone, everything that I’ve worked so hard for.

  I continue to work as hard as I can. Hence, I’m at the office on a Saturday night before Christmas, but I’m finally ready to head back to my house in Cabbagetown, and no, I will not do any more work tonight. I will heat up some food, make some hot chocolate, and maybe even watch a movie.

  See? I can have fun. It might not involve any socializing, but it’s fun.

  I peek out the window to see what the weather is like and jolt back in surprise.

  There must be twenty centimeters of snow on the ground. There was only a sprinkling when I was out at lunch, and now there’s been a ton of accumulation. The snow is still falling, the wind blowing it sideways.

  I check my phone, and sure enough, everyone is talking about the snowstorm in Toronto, which is supposed to co
ntinue through to tomorrow afternoon. Somehow I was so caught up in my work that I missed the news.

  No big deal. I’ll hop on the subway, take it to Wellesley, and walk from the station. It’ll be a bit slow-going, but I’ll manage. Then I’ll curl up with my dinner and hot chocolate, safe from the storm.

  My phone beeps. It’s a message from Cynthia, my neighbor. She’s a retired paleontology professor who enjoys baking cookies and talking about the Cambrian explosion.

  The power’s been out on our street for an hour. I don’t expect it’ll be back on anytime soon. Just letting you know, in case you’re still at the office.

  I go to the Toronto Hydro website and look at the outage map. There are power outages everywhere, and I suspect Cynthia is right—it’ll be out for a while. In the 2013 ice storm, I was without power for days.

  The thought of braving the weather, only to return to a lonely home with no heat and power, makes me shiver. That sounds horrible.

  What else can I do? I could try to get a hotel room, but that’s equally unappealing. On the Saturday before Christmas, it seems beyond pathetic.

  I’ve been alone all day, and suddenly, I really don’t want to be alone anymore. I guess I could go over to Cynthia’s, and we’d talk about Mary Anning and Christmas cookie recipes (not that I bake) in the dark.

  Or is there someone I could stay with nearby? Who do I know who lives downtown and doesn’t work at my company?

  I tap my fingers on my executive desk as I think.

  Wes Cheng! I haven’t seen him in a few months—my social life is rather limited—but I think he still has an apartment near Baldwin Village. Less than a ten-minute walk from my office on Dundas, or maybe fifteen with all the snow on the sidewalk.

  I send him a text, and a few minutes later, I receive a response. No problem. I’m at Prince & Pauper Pub right now. Meet me there?

  Of course Wes is at a pub. It’s a Saturday night. We’re in the midst of a snowstorm, but still. Wes isn’t the sort of guy to stay at home on a Saturday.

  I slip off my shoes and put on my big winter boots, down jacket, scarf, and toque, ready to brave the cold.

  It is indeed cold outside. Well below freezing and the wind stings my bare cheeks. I push my scarf up to my nose and wrap my arms around myself. Thankfully Prince & Pauper is only a few minutes away.

  I’m about to open the door to the pub when I’m knocked to the ground. When I look up, there’s a T-Rex standing above me.

  I scream. This is, I believe, the natural reaction when one finds oneself on the ground, staring up at an enormous T-Rex.

  Although...aren’t T-Rexes supposed to be even bigger than this? Plus, they’ve been extinct for sixty-five million years.

  Right. It’s not a real T-Rex, just someone wearing a ridiculous inflatable T-Rex costume.

  But then the T-Rex speaks. “Caitlin.”

  Oh my God, how does it know my name?

  There’s only one likely explanation: the T-Rex is Wes.

  “Sorry for scaring you,” he says, his voice muffled by the costume. I can see part of his face through the clear panel in the T-Rex’s neck. “Guess I finally paid you back for knocking me out in calculus class.”

  My cheeks heat at the memory, even though I’m half-lying on a snow-covered sidewalk.

  The first time I met Wes was back in university when, in a hurry to get to a calculus lecture because somehow I’d lost track of time while studying at the library (yes, really), I opened the door and smacked him in the face. I hadn’t seen him, as I was so focused on getting to class on time. I was never late, and I prided myself on that fact.

  Instead, I ended up knocking out a guy, and the entire lecture hall turned to look at us as I frantically tried to get him to speak and reassure me that I hadn’t done any real damage. He didn’t say anything when I asked if he was okay, just stared at me. Finally, I got him to tell me his name.

  That’s how I met Wes Cheng. He forgave me, and we became friends. Stayed friends after university.

  And now, it’s the first time I’ve seen him in months, and he’s dressed as a T-Rex. Something that would be terribly out of character for me, but not so much for him.

  Although it’s still pretty weird.

  Wes tries to bend down to help me up, but he can’t quite manage it in his costume.

  I start laughing. I can’t help it. “I’m fine, don’t worry about it.”

  “Sometimes I forget how big this costume is.”

  I’m about to ask why he’s dressed as a dinosaur—Santa Claus would be more appropriate, given the time of year—when an elderly white man pokes his head out from behind the door. “Wes, we’re back on in five.”

  I get to my feet. “Wait a second. You’re performing in a T-Rex costume?”

  “Yep,” Wes says. “I’m a dancer.”

  “A stripper?”

  “Why are you assuming that I’m going to strip off this lovely inflatable T-Rex suit, Caitlin? Something in particular you’d like to see?”

  Oh my God. My cheeks heat again. I’m not used to Wes talking to me like this. Nor am I used to talking to a person wearing an inflatable T-Rex costume.

  “Come on,” he says, struggling to open the door. “You can see the show.”

  I head inside, no idea what to expect, and get a Coke. Unfortunately, the pub is packed so I have to stand, and since I’m pretty short, I don’t have a great view. Wes in his T-Rex suit should still be easy to spot, though, but he’s nowhere in sight.

  Instead, four elderly men walk onto the make-shift stage and start singing “Silent Night” acappella.

  Okay, I’m confused. What does Wes have to do with a barbershop quartet?

  Laughter ripples through the room. The T-Rex is making his way onto the stage, wearing a poinsettia garland around his neck. He turns around, his back to the audience, and shakes his tail, and there’s even more laughter, but all the singers keep a straight face.

  None of this makes any sense whatsoever.

  I haven’t laughed so much in a long time.

  One of the older men hands a drum and a drumstick to Wes. They sing “The Little Drummer Boy,” Wes beating along on the drum and dancing energetically.

  Next, another of the singers puts a swaddled doll into Wes’s T-Rex hands, with a big sign that says “BABY JESUS.” A few seconds later, they start singing “Away in a Manger,” and Wes rocks the doll throughout the entire song.

  When the song is over, one of the singers places a set of angel wings on Wes’s back. They sing “Angels We Have Heard on High” while Wes dances, completely out of time with the music, and occasionally roars. This is followed by “Jingle Bells” and “O Holy Night,” after which the lead singer announces that there will be only one more song.

  The audience lets out a collective “Aww” and the quartet begins singing “Winter Wonderland.” Wes dances along, and halfway through, someone in a snowman suit does two shots and joins him on stage. As they hold hands and start dancing together, I experience an unexpected moment of jealousy, wishing I was the snowman.

  Not that I’ve ever wanted to dance in front of an audience in a snowman costume before, but knowing Wes, I bet he’s having a lot of fun right now.

  Fun is not something I’ve been very familiar with lately, but despite the snowstorm and power outage at my house, tonight has turned out okay.

  Chapter 2

  Wes

  We walk back to my apartment, Caitlin in her sensible down jacket and me in my T-Rex costume. It turns out that walking around in an inflatable T-Rex costume during a snowstorm is rather difficult, and I wish I’d brought my jacket with me.

  “Did you enjoy the show?” I ask Caitlin, even though I know she enjoyed it very much. I was watching her throughout most of it.

  “I did.” She cracks a grin, then sobers. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so busy and we haven’t spoken in ages...and then I turn up, asking to stay with you right before Christmas.”

  “It’s no problem.” I
wave this away.

  When the only woman you’ve ever loved needs your help, you don’t say no, even if you’ve been avoiding her lately.

  The reason for keeping my distance? I figured I finally needed to make an effort to get over Caitlin, after more than twelve years of being pathetically in love with her. I want to stay friends, but I thought a little time apart would do me good.

  It hasn’t worked the way I’d hoped, though. I still love her.

  It’s not like anything will ever happen between us. From the first week of school, when I saw Caitlin sitting in the front row and studiously taking notes—and when she knocked me to the ground—I knew she was going places, and I wasn’t.

  Sure enough, she graduated at the top of our class, and I’m lucky I graduated at all.

  Still, it’s a degree, a degree in a challenging program at a prestigious university, but I discovered along the way that I had no interest in engineering or anything related.

  Now I’m a freelance graphic designer, and I also make extra money here and there from random gigs, like the one I did tonight.

  And she’s a goddamn CEO.

  I’m happy with my life now, but I still feel like she’s a little too good for me, though that feeling has faded somewhat with time. I’m okay with who I am.

  But she’s never shown any interest, and it’s apparent I’m not her type. She dates successful guys who are good at wearing suits and yelling on their phones, and I...well, I can make her laugh, and I can be there when she needs me.

  I stumble through the snow in my costume. Caitlin grabs my arm when I nearly topple over.

  “I have to ask,” she says. “How did you become a dancing T-Rex for a barbershop quartet?”

  “I saw an ad on a lamppost. Bernie, the bass, got the idea from a real estate listing. Some photos of the property included a T-Rex, and it went viral. He figured that might be a clever way to get attention for their barbershop quartet, which has been together since the seventies. He was tired of doing the nursing-home circuit and wanted to book some bigger venues for Christmas. Five people auditioned, and I was the best,” I say proudly. “My performance during ‘The Little Drummer Boy’ apparently put me over the top.”