Merry Ever After
Page 4
She opened and smiled, looking down at the massive box of Munchkins from Dunkin’ Donuts in my hands. “You didn’t have to bring anything.”
“These are sort of my go-to thing that I bring whenever I’m a guest. And I know kids tend to love them.”
“Oh, you better believe Mason is going to be thrilled.”
The second I stepped inside, the boy came running into the room with his robot in hand.
“This is your friend, Mom?”
“Yes, this is Bryce,” Holly said.
Mason waved. “Hello.”
“Hey, buddy. It’s really nice to meet you.”
He looked up into my eyes and stared. “You…look familiar.”
Uh-oh.
“Yeah, so do you,” I answered, not knowing what else to say.
“This is my new robot. Santa brought him.”
I feigned excitement and shock. “Is that a TechBot?”
“Yup.”
“I can’t imagine how lucky you had to be to get that. I heard it’s the hot item of the season.”
“I didn’t think I would get one! Mom told me Santa might not be able to find it in time. I asked him for two things. This and for Mommy to be happy this Christmas. And she woke up this morning with a huge smile on her face. I got both things I wished for.”
I turned to Holly and flashed her a mischievous smile. “Did she now?”
She blushed.
“Are those Munchkins?” he asked.
“They certainly are.”
“I love them!”
“So I heard. There are lots of chocolate ones in there, too. Those are my favorite. Sometimes they skimp on those, but I made sure they didn’t this time.”
“Chocolate is my favorite. Thank you.”
Mason was such a polite and grateful kid.
The three of us moved into the dining room. Holly poured me fresh coffee as we sat together at the table.
Everything was festive until Mason suddenly announced, “My dad used to take me to get Munchkins on Sundays.”
I paused, then said, “I’m sure you must think of him every time you eat them.”
“Every time.” He looked down at his donut hole for a bit before he bit into it.
Noticing the sad look on her son’s face, Holly attempted to lighten the mood. “Mason is participating in a winterfun run tomorrow in town.”
I looked over at him. “You’re running in the cold, eh?”
“Yup. It’s gonna be so much fun, even though we’re gonna freeze our butts off.”
“You’re a lot braver than me.”
He grabbed another Munchkin and turned the tables onto me. “Who are you anyway? I mean…how did you meet my mom?”
Fair question.
“We met in a store, actually.”
“Bryce’s family owns Kline’s,” Holly added.
“I love that store! That’s where I saw Santa.”
I cleared my throat. “I’m so happy you have good memories there.”
“You wanna come watch my race tomorrow?” he suddenly asked.
I looked over at Holly for guidance. “That’s up to your mom.”
She batted her lashes. “It would be nice to see you again, if you’re free.”
I actually did have plans tomorrow, but as of this moment? They were officially canceled.
“I’d love to go.”
“Cool!” The boy got up suddenly from the table.
My head turned toward the entrance. “Where’s he going?”
“Not sure. But I wish he would have excused himself first.”
He came rushing back in and announced, “I know where I know you from now!”
My stomach sank, and I looked over at Holly, then back at him. “Where?”
He held out a book he’d been hiding behind his back. “You’re on the cover of Mommy’s book!”
Holly jumped out of her seat like a bat out of hell to snatch it from him. “Where did you get that?”
“You keep it in your bedside table. I found it the other day when I was looking for a tissue for my runny nose.”
She’d snatched it so fast I didn’t catch the full title, but the dude on the cover was shirtless, and all I saw was the word “alpha.” Damn. That was what she liked, huh? I could be down with that.
“Hate to disappoint you, buddy, but that’s not me.” I chuckled.
“Really? It’s not?” He giggled.
“I swear. It’s not.”
Holly literally placed the book under her ass on the chair, then warned, “Please don’t be going into my drawers, Mason.”
After he left to go play in his room, a few tense seconds passed before she turned to me.
“Well, that was super embarrassing.”
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I like that you have an…open mind.”
Her cheeks turned red.
“Can I see the book?” I teased.
“Not a chance in hell. That’s why I’m sitting on it.”
We eventually moved out to the living room and talked while Mason played with his toys. I told Holly a bit more about my family, going down the line of my siblings and naming all of my nieces and nephews. We discovered that we both grew up on the west side. So it was strange that we’d never encountered one another before.
At one point, she picked a small, wrapped gift from under the tree and handed it to me. “This is for you.”
“Not fair. I didn’t bring anything for you.”
“Are you kidding? I still owe you for the robot. And once you see it, you’re not going to be impressed. It’s nothing. Just something I threw together this morning.”
I ripped open the perfectly wrapped paper. It was a small box, and inside was a small, plastic tube-shaped contraption.
“I love it!” I laughed. “But…um, what is it?”
“It’s a gift-wrap cutter. I noticed you were a little challenged with the scissors. This will glide right along the paper and cut a straight line. I had an extra one that was still in the package.”
“Thank you. I’ll cherish this and think of you when I use it. Although, in all likelihood, even without it, I doubt I’ll ever wrap a present and not think of you.”
“I sort of feel the same way.”
As I looked into her eyes, I was feeling over the moon and just—grateful.
I can’t wait.
I can’t wait to get to know her better.
I can’t wait to kiss her, to hopefully someday act out every fantasy in that little book of hers.
For the first time in a long time, I was truly looking forward to the new year.
She looked over at the clock. “We’re supposed to be heading to my mother’s for Christmas ham. We’re already a little late.”
I grabbed my coat and put it on. “No worries. I have to head to my sister’s house anyway.”
“So, we’ll see you tomorrow for the run?”
I nodded. “Want me to scoop you guys up?”
“That would be nice.”
“Cool.”
She yelled out in the direction of her son’s room. “Mason, come say goodbye to Bryce!”
The boy ran out, and instinctively I knelt down and opened my arms. Maybe that seemed a little forward for a first-time meeting with him, but technically I’d felt connected to him longer than that. He wrapped his arms around my neck and whispered in my ear, “Thank you for keeping your promise. I love it.”
I froze as I slowly pulled away and looked him in the eyes.
Holy shit.
He knows.
He knew all along?
Then he mouthed, “Don’t tell my mom.”
I nodded, wanting to burst out into laughter. But I held it in.
He ran back to his room, and I looked over at Holly, who seemed to miss that entire exchange. I guess he had his reasons for wanting to milk the Santa thing as long as possible.
Holly then walked me out and shut the door behind her. We both lingered for a bit out in the
cold. I wondered if she’d closed the door so that we’d have some privacy. I speculated that maybe that meant she expected me to kiss her. She couldn’t comprehend just how badly I’d wanted to do that all day—or really from the moment I’d met her.
“Thank you for making this Christmas special.”
I was honestly speechless. She was thanking me, when I felt like the lucky one here. I’d experienced so many feelings today, but perhaps the most unexpected was a feeling of gratitude mixed with a side of guilt for the opportunity to spend time with her. With them. Especially when he couldn’t. And it wasn’t fair. I hoped wherever he was, that he approved of this.
I promise I won’t hurt her.
Apparently, Holly didn’t get the memo that I was in the middle of a one-sided conversation with her dead husband. Because the next thing I knew, I felt her lips on mine. She’d gone in for the kill faster than I could blink. And I was so freaking here for this.
No wonder she’d closed the door.
I lifted her up and kissed her harder, falling more for her every second that she breathed into me. I went all in, sweeping my tongue into her mouth and savoring her sweet taste. When she moaned, I was a goner. After, I leaned my forehead against hers. We both had the goofiest smiles, and I couldn’t help but think: Mason wasn’t the only one who’d gotten his Christmas wish.
Santa had come through for me, too.
BY VI KEELAND & PENELOPE WARD
Park Avenue Player
Stuck-Up Suit
Cocky Bastard
Well Played
Not Pretending Anymore
Happily Letter After
My Favorite Souvenir
Dirty Letters
Hate Notes
Rebel Heir
Rebel Heart
Mister Moneybags
British Bedmate
Playboy Pilot
Other Books from Vi Keeland
The Spark
The Invitation
The Rivals
Inappropriate
All Grown Up
We Shouldn’t
The Naked Truth
Sex, Not Love
Beautiful Mistake
Egomaniac
Bossman
The Baller
Left Behind
Beat
Throb
Worth the Fight
Worth the Chance
Worth Forgiving
Belong to You
Made for You
First Thing I See
Other Books from Penelope Ward
The Aristocrat
The Crush
The Anti-Boyfriend
Just One Year
The Day He Came Back
When August Ends
Love Online
Gentleman Nine
Drunk Dial
Mack Daddy
Stepbrother Dearest
Neighbor Dearest
RoomHate
Sins of Sevin
Jake Undone (Jake #1)
Jake Understood (Jake #2)
My Skylar
Gemini
Vi Keeland is a #1 New York Times, #1 Wall Street Journal, and USA Today Bestselling author. With millions of books sold, her titles are currently translated in twenty-seven languages and have appeared on bestseller lists in the US, Germany, Brazil, Bulgaria, and Hungary. Three of her short stories have been turned into films by Passionflix, and two of her books are currently optioned for movies. She resides in New York with her husband and their three children where she is living out her own happily ever after with the boy she met at age six.
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Penelope Ward is a New York Times, USA Today, and #1 Wall Street Journal Bestselling author. With over two-million books sold, she’s a 21-time New York Times bestseller. Her novels are published in over a dozen languages and can be found in bookstores around the world. Having grown up in Boston with five older brothers, she spent most of her twenties as a television news anchor, before switching to a more family-friendly career. She is the proud mother of a beautiful 16-year-old girl with autism and a 14-year-old boy. Penelope and her family reside in Rhode Island.
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I couldn’t take my eyes off the tattooed Santa gyrating his hips hypnotically behind his bass guitar. With the stage lights and the distraction of the crowd around me, I couldn’t be sure but it felt like the silver fox was looking directly at me with each thrust.
Maybe it was a final “screw you” to me after he’d single-handedly ruined any shot I had at my dream job.
I wanted to hate Vonn Barlowe, but the man was so damn talented and I’d been a fan for so damn long, there I was in the front row grooving to the punk-rock version of “White Christmas” along with the rest of Hershey, Pennsylvania.
“I can see why it’s a farewell tour.”
Apparently my date, Mark, wasn’t as impressed. He smirked in the direction of the stage, and I sighed. The man was wearing a tie to a punk show. What had I expected?
“Not a fan?” I asked over the screaming guitar riff.
Someone bumped me from behind and I caught myself against the waist-high security fence.
Mark didn’t notice. He was too busy pulling out his phone. I had to stop myself from telling him to put it away. He was my boyfriend—sort of—not one of my kids.
“I gotta take this,” he yelled, holding up his phone to indicate a call from his office.
I waved him off rather than reminding him it was Christmas Freaking Eve and I’d been out of town for two weeks. Two wasted weeks. And wasn’t that exactly what I’d been doing with Mark? Wasting time.
Okay, Vonn definitely just winked at me.
I glared back at him.
“Ohmygod! He’s so hot!” squealed a young, pretty blonde next to me. She was with a posse of girlfriends.
Before I could reluctantly agree, I was jostled from behind into the security fence that separated the front row from the stage. The mosh pit behind us was getting wild as the band stirred the audience up with punk versions of their Christmas favorites.
Back in my twenties, I wouldn’t have hesitated to join them. Two decades, two now-grown children, and a middle-aged body prone to second-day soreness ruled that out. But I was forty-six, not dead. I’d at least dressed the part in skinny jeans, a ripped black tank, and a cropped leather jacket.
Garrett, the youthful lead singer with a voice so similar to his father’s it was eerie, carried them into an energetic “Run Rudolph Run.” I closed my eyes and grooved to the music.
They were a great band. Even after the tragedy. I wasn’t the only one sad that this was the end of the road for the Sonic Arcade. And if it wasn’t for the stubborn, sexy bassist, I could have been the one to tell the story of their farewell.
A pointy elbow connected with my kidney pushing me into the bubbly blonde. “Shit! Sorry. Are you okay?” I asked the girl.
I didn’t get an answer because an entire sweaty body rammed her at full speed sending her into the waist high security fence. I turned around and shoved the guy. “Back off, man!”
He had at least fifty pounds on me and was staggeringly drunk. With the momentum of my push, he careened backward into the center of the mosh pit. Everything happened at once as all hell broke loose. I saw security fighting their way forward as Drunk Guy came back at me.
My last coherent thought before he yanked me into the fray was that Vonn looked way too close to the edge of the stage.
Bouncing off bodies like a pinball, I knew I needed to stay on my feet. Going to the floor in a situation like this was asking for a trip to the hospital.
Someone stepped on m
y foot and I stumbled into a wall of pointy elbows and flying shoulder slams. I caught a glancing blow to the jaw and saw stars. Hands hit me high on the back, shoving me hard enough that my head snapped forward. And down I went onto the sticky floor, into the sea of boots and feet.
A scuffed Doc Martin stepped on my thigh. Someone’s stiletto—who in the hell wore stilettos to a standing room only punk concert?—caught me in the forehead. Pain was blooming everywhere. I wondered what Addison and Shane would say about their mother being trampled to death in a mosh pit.
They’d probably be embarrassed and blame a midlife crisis. But was it really a midlife crisis when I was just trying to finally live my life the way I wanted to live it?
I felt hands lifting me. Strong arms enfolding me. I wasn’t on the floor anymore. I was definitely already dead because I staring into Vonn Barlowe’s blue eyes as he cradled me in his arms, muscling his way toward the stage.
“You really don’t have to do this,” I said for the ninth time as Vonn eased up to the curb in front of urgent care. The windshield wipers whipped back and forth as fat snowflakes pelted down in the dark, the roads already boasted a thick coating.
I wasn’t sure how he’d gotten the short straw of chauffeuring me into town after the venue medical staff insisted I needed to get checked out officially. But here I was, in the passenger seat of a badass black Tahoe with Vonn Barlowe behind the wheel. The man who had both crushed a dream and starred in a few of my naughtier ones. The man who had much better things to do than drive me around my hometown in a snowstorm.
I shifted in my seat and winced.
My entire body ached, and all I wanted to do was go home and lie on the couch.
Alone. On Christmas Eve.
It was a side effect of having a healthy relationship with my ex-husband. I couldn’t blame the kids for being excited to spend Christmas Eve and morning with him, his—significantly—younger wife, and their adorable baby.
“Stay,” Vonn barked in the rough rasp typical of his post-concert voice.
“Stay,” I mimicked as he rounded the hood. After spending the last two weeks with the band, it was clear that the bassist was a man of few words. An introverted rocker. How novel.