by Chelle Bliss
“You’ll understand when you’re older.”
“Fran, leave the kids alone. Let them live in oblivion.”
“Here’s the man of the hour,” Fran says, her eyes moving over my shoulder at the sound of footsteps.
“My grandpa,” Nick whispers in my ear. “But don’t make a mistake. He’s not in charge. This family is not a patriarchy. My grandma holds all the cards and is one hundred percent the boss.”
“All the women are the bosses,” Fran tells him, shaking her head. “The men need the illusion of control just like they enjoy a pair of fake breasts, but there’s reality and fiction.”
“What?” I wonder.
“Ignore her. She talks in riddles and sometimes doesn’t make sense, but I think she likes it that way,” Nick warns me.
“Nicky, my boy,” Nick’s grandfather says, walking up to us. “I see you’ve been busy this week.”
Nick reaches up, rubbing the back of his neck. “You saw the photos, huh, Grandpa?”
“I did. Who hasn’t? But,” he says, his eyes moving to me, though not in a judgmental way, “none of that matters as long as you two are happy. I’m Sal.” He holds out his hand toward me, and I slide my palm against his. In one swift and elegant motion, he pulls my hand to his lips, placing a soft kiss on my skin. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Josephine.”
The way he says my name makes it sound like the most beautiful word in the world. There are hints of Nick in his features and motions, and it’s like looking into a mirror at Nick’s future self.
“You too, sir,” I reply as he straightens but keeps a hold of my hand.
“Sal, please.” He smiles, and my insides go all soft, not from attraction, but from his simple act of kindness and the sweetness in his tone.
“I’m sorry about any unwarranted attention my presence in Nick’s life has brought on the family.”
Sal shakes his head. “We can’t control everything in life, Josephine. You two did nothing wrong, and there’s no need for you to apologize because someone wants to make a big deal out of a kiss between two consenting adults. Just know when you’re here, around my family as part of this group, you’re safe and we’ve got your back.”
I blink, soaking in what he said. No one has ever had my back unless they were on my or my family’s payroll. Understanding what it means to be loved and cared for unconditionally and without financial incentive is something that would take me more than a little while to get used to.
“Girl, get your butt over here!” Tamara yells out, waving her hand high in the air and pointing toward the open chair next to her.
“Go,” Nick’s grandfather orders. “I hope you don’t mind sitting at the kids’ table.”
I laugh, thinking he’s joking. “Thank you, sir.”
“Sal,” he corrects.
“Sal.” I nod.
“He ain’t lying,” Nick mutters as we move away from Sal, Fran, and Bear.
“People really do that? I thought that was all television nonsense.”
Nick laughs, squeezing my side again. “You have so much reality to catch up on, babe. So much reality.”
And I am about to get a heavy dose.
18
Nick
“Take this home,” Nana says to Jo, handing her a giant container of spaghetti and meatballs. “I want to make sure you have enough to eat.”
“Nana,” I say, shaking my head. “I do know how to cook.”
Nana turns her eyes to me and smiles. “I know, baby, but it doesn’t hurt to have leftovers. You two look like you could use a few extra carbs.”
I roll my eyes, and Jo laughs. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Baby-making uses a lot of calories,” Nana adds.
Jo starts to choke, pounding on her chest with one hand, and twists her head, trying not to look at either of us.
“I can’t believe you said that,” I mutter under my breath, taking the container of pasta from Jo so she doesn’t drop it.
“Wishful thinking,” Nana replies, giving me a devilish smile. “A grandma can dream.”
I slide my arm around Jo, holding on to her. “Ignore my grandmother. She sometimes goes off the reservation.”
“I do not,” Nana argues, crossing her arms. “I’m throwing things out there into the universe, hoping they come true.”
“Marie,” Grandpa says, coming to stand next to her, his eyes moving from me to Jo and back to his wife. “What did you say?”
“Babies,” I tell him. “She’s always talking about babies.”
“Are you two pregnant?” Grandpa asks, clearly having had too much wine and not enough food today.
“Oh my God. No. We’ve known each other like three days.”
“But you could be?” he asks, raising an eyebrow.
I shake my head, laughing at the insanity. “We have to go,” I tell them because I can’t stand here listening to them and all their baby talk with a woman I just met, who isn’t even sure she likes me all that much. “We have to get home to—”
“Make babies,” Grandma adds, finishing my sentence.
I move us toward the door, keeping Jo close and under my arm. “I’m so sorry,” I say to her as we step outside before the door has a chance to close.
She peers up, smiling at me, tears in her eyes from her coughing fit. “They’re great. Really great, Nick. You’re so lucky.”
“You only say that because you don’t have to put up with their craziness all the time.”
“I’d take their fun crazy over my mother’s totally insane, snotty, passive-aggressive anger.”
“Is she really that bad?” I ask.
Jo stops and turns toward me when we make it to my bike. “She’s probably worse than I can even describe. After watching your family and all the love they have for one another, my mother is more like a supervillain. She’s not lovable in any way.”
“Somehow she made you, though.” I lean forward, pressing my lips to her forehead and place the pasta on the roof of my cousin’s car.
She closes her eyes, soaking in my touch. “My nanny made me who I am, not my mother, Nick.”
“That’s so sad, babe. Makes my heart hurt for ya.”
She wraps her arms around me, resting her head against my chest. “I wonder what my life would’ve been like if I had a family like yours. Christmases and birthdays have to be so much fun and filled with nothing but happiness.”
“Damn, not even a nice Christmas?”
“My mother’s an atheist and won’t celebrate even if it’s the retail version of the traditionally religious holiday. We never had a tree, never saw Santa Claus, and I never once had a stocking hanging from a mantel.”
“Babe,” I mutter against her hair, feeling my chest ache imagining what it had to be like for a little blond-haired girl like her, growing up with no holiday cheer. “You missed out on so many wonderful things. We have to change that.”
“Nick.” She curls her fingers into the back of my T-shirt. “Maybe someday I’ll have all the things I missed out on, but stop acting like it’s your problem to make my life something it’s never been.”
I pull back, touching her chin with my two fingers, forcing her to look at me. “You’re right, Jo. It’s not my problem, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to let your life continue to be shit. You’re with me now, in my world. And my girl, in my world, gets what she wants. You want a Christmas with all the trimmings? You want a tree, ornaments, Santa, stockings, gifts, and more? I’m going to be the man to make that happen, no matter what I have to do to make it your reality.”
“Nick,” she whispers, but I don’t let her say anything more.
“Get your sweet ass on the bike, babe. We got shit to do.”
“What shit?” she asks, blinking at me.
“It’s time to shop.”
An hour later, after switching out the bike for my truck and putting the spaghetti in the fridge, we’re parked outside a year-round Christmas shop, and Jo has her nose almost pi
nned against the windshield. “What the what?” Her mouth hangs open as she stares at the gaudy and way overdone decorations. “Is this for real?”
I smile, loving the surprise on her face. “Yeah, babe. It’s real. I have a few decorations at home, but I want you to pick out some of your own. We’re about to do some major damage.”
“Major damage?” she gulps, turning her eyes to me. “Now?”
I nod.
“It’s August.”
“Don’t give two fucks. My girl wants Christmas. I’m giving her Christmas.”
“You’re a little crazy.”
“Only for you.” I climb out of the truck, rounding the back, and open her door. “Normal is way overrated and completely boring. Think you can handle this?”
She nods, sliding her hand in mine, letting me help her from the truck. “Are you sure about this?” she asks, peering to the left and at the giant blow-up Santa Claus that’s waving to all the passersby.
“Never been so sure about anything in my life.”
We walk toward the store, my fingers intertwined with hers as she glances around, not sure what to look at first. “This is overwhelming.”
“We’ll take our time. Get whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want?”
“Yep. You want a ton of pink shit to match your cute little suitcase, then we get all the pink shit they got.”
She smiles, her face all soft and sweet. “Who are you?”
“I’m the guy who’s going to give you the Christmas you never had.”
“You don’t need to do this to make me happy.”
“I do.”
She shakes her head. “You don’t, though. You’ve already made me happier in a few days than anyone else has in my entire life.”
“That’s some sad shit, Jo.”
I usher us into the store, done arguing about what I should or should not do. The one thing I know is I always do whatever I want, and there’s nothing I want to do more than see my girl smile. She lights up a room when she’s happy, and based on everything she’s said, she wasn’t all that happy before she ended up in my world.
“You know this is insane, right?” she asks as we step inside to the sound of Christmas carols and the whistle of the Christmas Express moving above our heads.
“Do you like this?” I motion toward the room where Christmas exploded, vomiting happiness everywhere.
“Happier than I’ve been in longer than I can remember.”
“Then I love this. Now,” I say, patting her ass, moving her forward. “Get that fine ass moving because we have a house to decorate.”
Jo steps back, gaping at the ten-foot tree covered in pink and white ornaments and the brightest white lights I’ve ever seen. “Have you ever seen anything more beautiful?” she asks me.
I stare at her, seeing the joy on her face, the lights twinkling in her blue eyes. “Never,” I reply, but I’m not talking about the tree.
Jo turns toward me, face tipped up from looking at the tree. “Nick, I’m talking about the tree.”
I reach up, placing my hand at her neck, unable to take my eyes away from her mouth. “I know, but I’m not.”
“Why are you so good to me?”
I don’t have an answer. At least not an easy one or something that makes any semblance of sense outside the tiny bubble we’ve created in a short amount of time. So, being who I am, I answer the only way I know how.
I bend my head down, taking her mouth soft at first until she opens to me, and then I kiss her deep, hard, and demanding. My hands find her ass, squeezing her cheeks tight, curling my fingers around the plumpness.
Her hands are in my hair, pulling hard enough to cause a rippling sensation to travel down my spine, creating a direct link to my growing cock. Tonight isn’t supposed to be about sex. Everything is supposed to be about Christmas, but I can’t stop myself in the faint glow of the tree and with the happiness on her face at something so simple I’ve taken for granted my entire life.
“Thank you,” she murmurs against my lips, staring at me with our faces so close, there’s an intimacy to it I’m not sure I’ve ever felt before.
“Tomorrow, we do presents.”
“Presents?” she gasps as her eyes widen.
“Lots of presents,” I tell her. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right.”
The doorbell rings, pulling us out of the moment.
“Are you expecting someone?” she asks, no longer staring into my eyes but moving her gaze toward the door.
“No. They can fuck right off.”
“You can’t not answer the door,” she says, trying to wriggle out of my hold.
“Fuckin’ A. There are no rules about answering a door, especially when someone isn’t invited over. The only person I want to see is standing here with their fine ass in my hands and their lips wet from my kiss.”
The doorbell rings again and again in quick succession, followed by a loud pounding.
“Sounds important.”
“Nothing is more important than this,” I tell her, still not moving to answer whoever is bothering us at this time of night. “Nothing good ever happens at this hour around here.”
“Nick,” Jo says when the pounding grows louder and whoever is on the other side isn’t taking the hint. “Open it so we can get on with our night.”
I sigh, releasing my hold on her, and move toward the small table in the dining room. I reach inside a drawer, pulling out my Glock 43 because I have a feeling whoever’s on the other side isn’t a friendly face.
“Oh my God. You have a gun?” Jo gasps, her eyes wide and pinned on my Glock.
“Babe. It’s the South in the middle of fucking nowhere. Everyone has a gun.”
Her eyes only widen, and I know my words didn’t give her solace, but sometimes, the truth is the best answer and the simplest.
“What?” I ask, gun down at my side as I pull open the door, ready for anything.
A tall woman, wearing high heels, a slim-fitting dress, and sunglasses is standing at my door, with a sleek black limo running at the curb behind her. “Where’s my daughter?” she asks, her head tipping down toward my hand. “Have you taken her hostage?”
Madeline Carmichael. I’ve never seen one of her films, but the wealth and snobbery ooze off of her.
“Mother?” Jo gasps, walking up behind me but not moving in front of me. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Has this man been holding you against your will?” her mother asks her, ignoring me.
“God, no. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“He has a weapon, Josephine. What kind of man answers the door with a gun in his hand?”
“What kind of man doesn’t do what he needs to do in order to protect what’s his?” I ask, hating her asshole attitude already.
Madeline pushes past me, walking into my house and grabbing her daughter by the arm. “Get your shit. We’re leaving.”
“No,” Jo barks. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Don’t you dare talk back to me, child.”
Jo pulls her arm free from Madeline’s grip. “Mother, I’m a grown woman. I’m not your child, and I’m not sure you’ve ever truly been my mother. You may have given birth to me, but besides that, when have you ever cared enough to come fetch me?”
Madeline removes her sunglasses, folding them slowly and way too calmly. Her back is perfectly straight, years of impeccable posture on full display. “Have you seen the photos and headlines?”
“No,” Jo snaps and moves toward me, winding her arm around my back as I lift mine over her shoulder.
Her mother’s eyes follow her daughter’s movements and then turn to me, narrowing. “You’re dragging our family name through the mud for some redneck hillbilly who brandishes a weapon when he opens the door and has a Christmas tree up in his house in the middle of summer, for Christ’s sake. You are coming home with me and putting this behind you. You’ll be returning to Jamison and doing everything
possible to repair the damage you’ve caused. You’ve had your time in the gutter, girl, but now it’s time to grow the fuck up and come back to reality.”
Jo’s fingers dig into my sides, and her body stiffens. “No, Mother. I won’t be coming home with you, and I most certainly will not be getting back with Jamison. I don’t care about my reputation—or yours, for that matter. The last few days have been the happiest of my life.”
“With this…this redneck?”
“I thought I was a hillbilly?” I ask, being sarcastic as fuck because who the hell does this woman think she is?
“You’re clearly lower class, no matter how cute and quaint your house is,” Madeline taunts, looking down her nose at me.
“Mother,” Jo chides her. “Stop being rude. Nick has been nothing but kind and treated me like a normal person for once.”
Madeline laughs and shakes her head. “He’s after your money, sweetheart. Nothing more. You have nothing else, besides what’s between your legs, a man like him could want. He has nothing to offer you. No future. Nothing but shame. You’ve both done enough damage, and it will take years to repair. Get your shit. We’re going. The plane takes off in an hour.”
“No.” Jo curls into me, tethering her body to mine with her hands. “I’m not leaving.”
“You childish, spoiled bitch,” Madeline spits, stepping toward Jo.
I move in front, pushing Jo behind me. “Lady, I don’t know you, and I give zero fucks who you are or how much money you have. The one thing I know is you don’t walk into my home and talk shit about my girl. I don’t care if you gave birth to her or not, you do not talk to her that way. Say whatever you want about me, I can take it, especially from elite trash like you. But once you call her names, threaten her, or try to boss her around like she’s property, we have a problem. And right now, we have a big problem.”
Madeline huffs, tipping her chin upward. “You’re not a member of this family.”
“Family?” I ask, laughing. “I don’t see a family. I see a self-serving mother trying to force her adult daughter to do something against her will, and in my world, that doesn’t fly. So, you can either see yourself out or I’ll put you out, but you’re not staying here, and Jo is not leaving with you.”