Christmas In The City

by Shen, L. J.

  Want to get out of here? His eyes asked.

  Yes, please. Mine replied before I could stop them.

  He stood from the couch, holding out his hand. I took it and he led me into the hallway. Mikael and company barely registered our departure. Broderick took charge, leading me up the stairs. I had a moment of panic, thinking he was going in the direction of the bedrooms to finish what we started outside the church, but then he surprised me when he said, “Pack up your things.”

  My brow furrowed. “What? Why?”

  “I have an apartment here.”

  “You have an apartment here?”

  “Uh, just one that I’ve been renting. I was supposed to stay for a few weeks, but business back home cut my visit short. The rent is already paid and I’m not going to be here so it might as well go to some use.”

  I studied him, trying to figure out if I understood correctly. “Let me get this straight. You want to let me stay in your apartment for free? But you don’t even know me.”

  He tilted his head, his eyes wandering from my chin to my cheeks. “I know enough.”

  I lowered my gaze to the floor. “You should just get a refund. I could be anyone. I could be a maniac who’ll thrash the place and leave you footing the bill for repairs.”

  He gave a low chuckle. “I’m pretty sure you aren’t a maniac, Ophelia. And besides, the rent is already paid and it’s non-refundable. So, either you move in or the apartment sits empty. I know which one I’d prefer.”

  I inhaled sharply. This seemed too good to be true. It seemed like one of the daydreams I’d have while scrubbing toilets and changing dirty bedsheets at the hotel. Some mysteriously handsome American stranger I meet at a bar offers me a place to live rent free. A place all to myself. I mean, there had to be a catch. But as I stared into Broderick’s bottomless, honest eyes all I saw was a kind gesture, human to human.

  After sharing with so many other people, the prospect of being alone, truly alone, seemed like heaven. Why was he doing this? I was nobody to him. Emotion swelled within me, a mixture of gratitude and relief. A tear threatened to leak out, but I sniffed it back, my mind not quite made up.

  But then he said, “Think of it like a Christmas gift. Merry Christmas.”

  “Broderick—”

  “Are you going to turn down a Christmas gift? Rude.”

  That made me chuckle, and before I knew I was speaking, I said, “Fine. Okay then.”

  “Good,” he nodded, seeming happy. Maybe it just made his conscience clear to know I was somewhere he deemed safe. The girl he met and kissed and swept off her feet for a night would be okay, for a while at least. Job done. Good deed completed.

  “Now go pack,” he urged. “Make sure you don’t forget anything.”

  He shooed me into my room, and I made short work of stuffing my few possessions into a large duffle bag while trying not to wake my sleeping housemates. When I re-emerged fifteen minutes later, Broderick glanced up from his phone, his eyes going from me to my bag.

  “I ordered us a taxi. It should be outside in a minute or two.”

  A lump formed in my throat. I still hadn’t gotten a hold over my emotions. In fact, they’d only grown worse as I’d packed and realized how little I had. There was nothing like being able to fit everything you owned in the world into a single duffle bag to make you feel small and inconsequential.

  We stepped outside into the icy cold night and I felt shy all of a sudden. I could feel Broderick’s eyes on me, but he didn’t speak, didn’t ask with incredulity if one bag was all I needed to go live somewhere for several weeks. I started mentally making plans. In the morning I’d call my landlord and inform him I was moving out. That way I could save my rent money and get a better place when I had to leave Broderick’s apartment.

  The lights of a car approached as the taxi pulled up outside. Broderick silently took my bag and slid the strap over his shoulder. I lowered myself into the warm car and wondered if the apartment had a bath. It was a luxury I hadn’t had in a while, since the bath at the house was always way too gross to actually use.

  Broderick told the driver the address and I noted that it was in a particularly upscale part of the city. I watched the buildings go by, my attention on the window when I felt Broderick’s warm hand cover mine. I turned to him, his touch sending a spark of heat through me. Our eyes met and held a moment before I dropped my gaze, unable to handle the weird way we seemed to understand one another without needing to speak. I felt an odd connection to him from the very moment he approached me at the bar.

  Like it was destiny.

  I swiped away the ridiculous, errant notion.

  “Here we are,” the driver announced. “That’ll be eighteen-sixty.”

  Broderick paid the fare, then led me inside the building. It was a modern, newish apartment block. We took the lift to the seventh floor then walked to the end of the long corridor. Broderick set my bag down and I looked around. The place wasn’t huge, but it might as well have been a mansion as far as I was concerned. It was clean and new, and I’d be able to relax without the constant worry that one of my housemates was going to burst into the room. One thing was for sure, I was going to savor every last second of the next few weeks.

  “Well, what do you think?” he asked, standing a few feet behind me.

  I walked to the floor to ceiling window that led to a small balcony before turning around. “Well, obviously I’m used to some pretty high standards, but I suppose this will do,” I said, and he laughed.

  “Goof.” He dropped his keys on the coffee table. “You can take the bedroom. It’s just through there. I have to leave in a couple hours anyway, so I think I’ll just power through and sleep on the plane.”

  My smile fell and my chest squeezed. I hated that he had to leave so soon. I felt like I was just getting to know someone hugely important and now he was disappearing. I made a concerted effort not to let how crestfallen I felt show on my face.

  “So, you never did explain to me how you’re managing to catch a flight on Christmas day.”

  A faint smile touched his lips, his eyes seeming to twinkle with mischief, and he muttered, “You really don’t know who I am.”

  I frowned at him. “Should I?”

  He rubbed his jaw, letting out a small sigh. “No, I guess not. Not unless you’re in the music industry.”

  My interest piqued. He worked in the music industry? I wanted to ask a million questions, but confusion kept my mouth shut. Plus, did it matter? I’d probably never see him again after tonight. We only had a few more hours and I didn’t want him to think I was only interested in him for his job, whatever it was.

  A few seconds of quiet elapsed as we gazed at one another. It was weird, like we both liked looking at each other too much to admit how equally awkward it was standing here trading stares.

  Once more, I entertained the idea of having sex with him. After all, I was beyond attracted to him and we had great chemistry. The sex would probably be fantastic. But something in me said no. The time didn’t feel right, which was absurd. If I never saw him again, now was the time!

  But . . .

  I’d only be lonelier if we had amazing sex and then he had to leave right after.

  “Can I make a request?” he asked then, his low voice breaking the quiet.

  I eyed him curiously. “What kind of request?”

  “Sing for me.”

  I looked around. “Sing? Here?”

  “Sure,” he nodded.

  Self-awareness pricked at me. It was one thing for him to hear me sing in a darkened pub. Alone in a brightly lit apartment was another thing entirely. But then, he’d done something truly kind by letting me stay here and if all I could give him in return was a song then so be it.

  “Um, all right. What should I sing?”

  “One of your grandmother’s songs. Like the one you sang at the pub.”

  I took a deep breath and meandered over to the window, no destination in mind, my back turned to hi
m. I definitely couldn’t sing and make eye contact. That would be way too intense.

  The apartment was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. I felt Broderick’s undivided attention on me. I closed my eyes and sang quietly, the first few lines of ‘The Foggy Dew.’ Then, as I got further into the song my voice grew louder, filling the space. I forgot about my audience of one and allowed myself to be swept away in the story, in a time gone by when men fought passionately for their country, men who were dead and gone but whose bravery lived on in the music that was passed down from generation to generation.

  When the song ended and I fell quiet, a chill shuddered through me. I didn’t immediately turn around. The tension in the room was too thick. Tonight had been a rollercoaster of emotions and again I was on the verge of tears. It was a combination of the song, missing Gran, the strange, sudden connection I felt to Broderick, his selfless gesture, and the fact that he was leaving in a few short hours.

  “That was incredible,” he said, breaking the silence, his voice rough. But I heard the awe in his tone and turned around. His eyes shone, and I wondered if he was feeling just as mixed up as I was right now.

  “Thank you,” I whispered, and he gestured to the space beside him. “Come here.”

  I took a few tentative steps toward him and sat, my heart in my throat and my stomach twisting.

  Fantastic sex, Ophelia! Come on!!

  When he held his arm out, a warm smile on his lips and behind his eyes, it felt natural to lean into him and rest my head on his chest. I closed my eyes once more, listening to the sound of his breaths, his steady, reassuring heartbeat, and somehow—while still arguing with myself whether or not to give into temptation—I drifted off to sleep.

  I came to with a start sometime later. Sitting up and glancing around the strange space. Memories of the night before flooded my brain and I cursed under my breath, clutching my forehead. He was gone.

  My stomach felt empty and sick and I hadn’t been expecting that—not that I’d had time to expect anything. It was completely irrational, but I wanted to cry. I’d never met anyone like Broderick and, in retrospect, everything about him as seen through the filter of my dreamy recollections, felt once-in-a-lifetime.

  Boo, Ophelia. Boo.

  That’s right, I was heckling myself.

  I should’ve had fantastic sex with him.

  He made me feel seen in a way no one ever had before, not even Gran, and I was infinitely sad because I knew, deep down, I’d never see him again.

  Glancing around the room—half hoping he hadn’t left, that he’d suddenly appear—I spotted a piece of paper on the coffee table. I picked it up and discovered he’d left a note.

  My heart leapt.

  Dear O,

  I didn’t want to wake you, but it seemed rude to leave without saying goodbye. Last night was perfect. I’ll never forget it. Especially your sunbeam smile and your voice. You have a unique talent, Ophelia, a talent you need to share with the world. (Not just old dudes drinking pints in dark bars.) I’m leaving you the contact information for someone who I think will be able to help you make a start with a music career, if you’re interested.

  Thank you for spending Christmas Eve with me.

  Yours,

  Broderick Addams.

  My cheeks heated when I finished reading, my mind a whirr with hope and possibility, but also a strange sense of niggling doom because his name sounded familiar. But I couldn’t focus on that.

  He thought I had the chance at a music career? The very thought made my insides go haywire. Then I looked at the note again and realized—again—that he’d signed his full name. Broderick Addams.

  I gasped, and then I leapt—quite ungracefully—from the couch and then jumped on top of it as another kind of hope seized me. If he never wanted to see me again then he would’ve just signed with his first name. Including his last name made me feel like he wanted me to look him up! He wants to see me again!!

  Or . . .

  Maybe I was reading too much into it. I frowned at his last name. Ugh. What did it mean? And why did his name sound so familiar?

  Without overthinking it, I pulled out my phone and quickly typed his name into Google. And then I dropped my phone as my arse fell back to the sofa and I covered my mouth.

  Shite.

  “Holy fucking shite.”

  Broderick Addams.

  God. I knew him. I knew who he was. Everyone knew who he was—well, everyone who followed music. Producer with Blackbird Records, he’d worked on some of the biggest albums of the last five years. Like, tens of millions of copies sold, launching new careers, rejuvenating old ones.

  And I’d just spent the night with him.

  And he’d kissed me.

  And I was now staying in an apartment he’d paid for.

  My heart beat fast, thrumming away inside my chest, my mind a mess, torn. What would I do? What should I do? All my dreams could become a reality. Broderick Addams believed in me, thought I had talent. He could make things happen, if I wanted them to happen.

  But . . . Happy Christmas, indeed.

  I touched my lips with my fingertips, remembering the kiss—our kiss—and I felt hot with confusion. Did he like me for my voice? Or did he like my voice for me?

  My supervisor Sally’s words from the end of my shift yesterday repeated in my head. I’d thought it a platitude at the time. Something people said to each other that didn’t really mean anything. Well, it seemed this time it did.

  Be careful what you wish for, Ophelia, especially on Christmas. It might just come true.

  Also by L.H. Cosway & Penny Reid

  Books by L.H. Cosway

  Standalones

  Painted Faces

  Killer Queen

  The Nature of Cruelty

  Still Life with Strings

  Showmance

  Fauxmance

  Happy-Go-Lucky

  The Cracks Duet

  A Crack in Everything (#1)

  How the Light Gets In (#2)

  The Hearts Series

  Six of Hearts (#1)

  Hearts of Fire (#2)

  King of Hearts (#3)

  Hearts of Blue (#4)

  Thief of Hearts (#5)

  Cross My Heart (5.75)

  Hearts on Air (#6)

  The Rugby Series with Penny Reid

  The Hooker & the Hermit (#1)

  The Player & the Pixie (#2)

  The Cad & the Co-ed (#3)

  The Varlet & the Voyeur (#4)

  Books by Penny Reid

  Knitting in the City Series

  (Contemporary Romantic Comedy)

  Neanderthal Seeks Human: A Smart Romance (#1)

  Neanderthal Marries Human: A Smarter Romance (#1.5)

  Friends without Benefits: An Unrequited Romance (#2)

  Love Hacked: A Reluctant Romance (#3)

  Beauty and the Mustache: A Philosophical Romance (#4)

  Ninja at First Sight (#4.75)

  Happily Ever Ninja: A Married Romance (#5)

  Dating-ish: A Humanoid Romance (#6)

  Marriage of Inconvenience: (#7)

  Neanderthal Seeks Extra Yarns (#8)

  Knitting in the City Coloring Book (#9)

  Winston Brothers Series

  (Contemporary Romantic Comedy, spinoff of Beauty and the Mustache)

  Beauty and the Mustache (#0.5)

  Truth or Beard (#1)

  Grin and Beard It (#2)

  Beard Science (#3)

  Beard in Mind (#4)

  Dr. Strange Beard (#5)

  Beard with Me (#6)

  Beard Necessities (#7)

  Hypothesis Series

  (New Adult Romantic Comedy)

  Elements of Chemistry: ATTRACTION, HEAT, and CAPTURE (#1)

  Laws of Physics: MOTION, SPACE, and TIME (#2)

  Irish Players (Rugby) Series – by L.H. Cosway and Penny Reid

  (Contemporary Sports Romance)

  The Hooker and the Hermit (#1)

  T
he Pixie and the Player (#2)

  The Cad and the Co-ed (#3)

  The Varlet and the Voyeur (#4)

  Dear Professor Series

  (New Adult Romantic Comedy)

  Kissing Tolstoy (#1)

  Kissing Galileo (#2)

  Ideal Man Series

  (Contemporary Romance Series of Jane Austen Re-Tellings)

  Pride and Dad Jokes (#1, coming 2020)

  Man Buns and Sensibility (#2, TBD)

  Sense and Manscaping (#3, TBD)

  Persuasion and Man Hands (#4, TBD)

  Mantuary Abbey (#5, TBD)

  Mancave Park (#6, TBD)

  Emmanuel (#7, TBD)

  About the Authors

  L.H. Cosway has a BA in English Literature and Greek and Roman Civilisation, and an MA in Postcolonial Literature. She lives in Dublin city. Her inspiration to write comes from music. Her favourite things in life include writing stories, vintage clothing, dark cabaret music, food, musical comedy, and of course, books. She thinks that imperfect people are the most interesting kind. They tell the best stories.

  Sign up for L.H. Cosway’s Newsletter: https://lhcoswayauthor.com/newsletter/

  Penny Reid is the New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling Author of the Winston Brothers, Knitting in the City, Rugby, Dear Professor, and Hypothesis series. She used to spend her days writing federal grant proposals as a biomedical researcher, but now she just writes books. She’s also a full time mom to three diminutive adults, wife, daughter, knitter, crocheter, sewer, general crafter, and thought ninja.

  Sign up for Penny Reid’s Newsletter: http://pennyreid.ninja/newsletter/

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