Once Upon a Holiday

by Claudia Burgoa

  Not that it’s happening to me or that it might ever happen. I stop talking because I can see that no matter how much I argue he doesn’t even care about continuing the conversation. Love might not be part of his vocabulary.

  “What are you looking for, Juniper?”

  The question is so simple and yet, pretty complicated.

  “Joy,” I answer. “If you’re wondering if I’m looking for a man, the answer is no. Love isn’t something you seek, I’ve learned that the hard way. It comes to some; others have to find happiness in other forms. But I’m not waiting for things to happen, I never do.”

  He nods. “You seem like the kind of woman who takes charge of her own life. Even when fun incidents happen to you. I guess you don’t enjoy surprises.”

  “It depends on what surprises you’re talking about.” I watch him intently. “There’s a huge difference between a surprise party and one of your best employees quitting your firm and stealing your clients. Some believe that life just happens, but I’m a big believer in making things happen.”

  “You need to live a little more,” he murmurs and there’s worry etched into his handsome face.

  I’m puzzled by the connection between us. It’s like we can sense what the other is missing or maybe we’re missing some pieces that the other seems to have.

  “So, you’re telling me you didn’t plan on becoming famous?”

  “It all started out of spite. My father didn’t want to pay for college. “Art is a hobby,” he’d say. My parents never believed in me. I had to show them that I could make it on my own.”

  “Did they pay for anything?”

  “Nope, it was part college loans and part my brother sending money afraid I’d end up selling my kidney to cover my rent. New York isn’t cheap. I wanted to make it on my own. Nothing would’ve stopped me. My parents were waiting for me to quit and say, you’re right, I can’t do anything without your money. Even after his death, my father expected me to take over the company and assume all his responsibilities. I had a lot to prove to them and … to myself. No one believed in my talent.”

  I want to tell him that it takes a lot of discipline and hard work to become an artist, especially to become him.

  “Do you believe in yourself?”

  He looks at me puzzled and yet as if I have just given him the answer to the meaning of life. Does he understand this is a question?

  After dinner, Sterling and I clean up the kitchen. He invites me to watch a movie in his entertainment room. The penthouse doesn’t look like much at first sight but it’s huge. I expected a simple family room, no, the place looks like a movie theater. We watch television for the rest of the evening.

  Erase that, I watch shows while he is enthralled in his sketchbooks. He goes through several of them. Doesn’t crumple them, just goes to the next page. Poor man, I think he lost his muse. Does he even have a muse?

  “No inspiration?” I ask when he turns the page over.

  “Plenty,” he answers, staring at the blank slate. “Never been so inspired in my life. What do you say we call it a night?”

  I stretch and nod. “What time is it anyway?”

  “Almost midnight,” he says, looking at his phone. “Do you want to sleep in my room or the guest room? I’ll take whichever you don’t.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  “The guest room doesn’t have a comfortable bed. If I were you, I’d take my bedroom,” he offers, and I feel as if there’s an ulterior motive to it but I’m afraid to ask.

  We leave the entertainment room, head upstairs and he simply says, “Have a good night, June.”

  He walks away and doesn’t look back. What am I missing?

  Sterling

  On Sunday, after a long sleepless night, I head to the gym. Beckett and Clark, two of my bodyguards, are already working out. We don’t say much for a couple of hours but on our way out Beckett asks, “You still plan on going to Steamboat?”

  No.

  A smart man would stay away from a woman like Juniper Spearman. She’s dangerous. A unique subspecies with multiple layers that I’m about to peel. Apparently, Dad was right, I don’t use my head. If I did, I’d run the other way.

  She makes me want a lot of things, like pushing her against the wall and fucking her until she screams my name. I should fuck her today so I can find peace and make her leave tomorrow.

  Who needs a woman like Juniper Spearman?

  Yeah, she’s cute. Maybe beautiful and tall enough that if I wanted, I’d only have to bend my head slightly to kiss those full, pink lips.

  I’m contradicting myself every second of the day.

  “No. I think the trip is a waste of time,” I answer. “It’s better if she leaves as soon as we furnish the house. Make sure that happens no later than Wednesday.”

  He nods. “Call if you need us.”

  I salute him and board the elevator. As I enter my place, I take a step back. There’re piles of papers on the floor. Who’s the messy person now?

  After another glance, I realize there’s a pattern. I pick up one of the documents and I feel my face scrunching as I read it.

  Donor No. B893028 and there’s a description of a guy.

  “Is this like Tinder for people with OCD?” I ask as I step closer to where she sits. “Or maybe you’re matching your DNA instead of your personality?”

  “This is a private matter,” she says, staring at her notebook and then the piles.

  “What are you looking for, a mail-order husband or just their juices?”

  “Again, this is private,” she says without looking at me.

  “Honey, if you want a good time, I can give it to you …” I offer and walk to the kitchen counter where there’s even more stuff.

  The header of a fertility clinic grabs my attention. I look at it and whistle when I see the cost for each thing listed. Semen, artificial insemination, IVF … “Free of charge,” I finish my sentence.

  Hey, she’s hot and sex with her is fucking amazing. If that’s what she wants I’m willing to start a new agreement. Instead of one night, one month.

  Or we can fuck for as long as she wants. Just, without the baby part. I’d love to fulfill her fantasies. I bet she has never let herself go and had some fun with sex.

  I put the paper down though and push away my own fantasies. She wants something serious—too serious. A kid. That’s what she’s been talking about. Her one-year plan. Well, she might want to rethink it because children take about a lifetime.

  A child is a big commitment. I might hate my father—the same way he hated me—but we have so much in common. Neither one of us can love or care for another being.

  Dear old Dad was an asshole. I’m just as heartless as him. All these men would be better suited than me. Who the fuck would want my genes?

  Her list of thirty things to do in thirty days is also on top of the counter. I cringe when I see: Do something good for someone.

  Suddenly, shit has gotten real and my blood freezes. “Wait, I thought you said you couldn’t have children?”

  She finally looks at me, her eyes are red and I’m pretty sure she’s been crying.

  “It’s close to impossible. I was seventeen when the doctor diagnosed me with PCOS. That’s polycystic ovarian syndrome,” she explains. “He said it wouldn’t be impossible, but it’d be hard to have children. The older I get, the harder it is. I’ve been doing a lot of research and artificial insemination is the first step. I think I have the perfect candidate. I’ve been taking hormones to ensure that I ovulate. Still, the chances of me getting pregnant with the procedure are low. If the first two treatments don’t work, they’ll harvest my eggs, fertilize them, and implant them once they’re ready.”

  She gives me a sad smile. “I know it sounds crazy.”

  Everything she’s been saying makes sense. She’s searching for what makes her happy. She doesn’t sit down on her ass and wait for life to happen. Still, she doesn’t enjoy life either.

&nbs
p; “Of course not, this explains so much.”

  “I tried you know,” she says, and I frown. “I tried to have a family the conventional way. Mom says the words ‘you can’t’ are my motivation and my downfall.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Since I was young, I had to show everyone I could do anything. I obsess so much I lose myself inside the projects and lose track of what matters. Hence, I’m taking a couple of years off to try to learn how to balance my career and motherhood.”

  I grab the piles of documents she has on the floor carefully and set them on the counter. Seems like a cold way to make her dreams come true and yet, I admire her for finding a way to make it happen for herself.

  Where do I fit in this project? I’m not sure, but I want to help her create that family. Maybe I can have my security team track these men. They might be anonymous but there’s always some paper trail lingering around and my men can figure out if they are who they said in the questionnaire.

  “You’re not judging me for not having a husband or someone to raise a kid with,” she speaks.

  “Are you judging yourself for that?”

  She shakes her head. “It’d be nice to have someone. I see my two older brothers and my twin sister with their significant others and I want it. Of the five of us, I was the one who couldn’t be alone. Since I turned fifteen, I’ve had a boyfriend. My brothers called me a serial monogamist. I gave up because love seems to elude me. The feeling of loneliness though, that follows me around everywhere.”

  “Do you think a kid will come to fill the emptiness?”

  “No, but this kid would be someone I can love unconditionally, forever. That’s all I want to do you know, have a family I can love and care for. I’m done waiting for a guy that will see past my personality.”

  “Sweetheart, if they can’t see how amazing you are, they don’t deserve you.” I take the papers and go for a bottle of scotch. “Let’s make a toast so you can find the right guy to make babies. Well, the right donor. We’re going to go through every one of these profiles and find you the right guy.”

  She looks at me and suddenly she bursts into tears.

  “What did I say?”

  “What if it doesn’t work out?”

  I put everything down, take her into my arms, and hug her tightly. Fuck if I don’t want to fix everything for her. I lift her chin and brush her lips slightly with mine.

  “There are plenty of ways to have a child, a family. You can be a foster parent and you can adopt children; there are so many that need love. Just keep that in mind.”

  “Single woman, remember?” She points at herself. “I’m not saying it’s impossible, but it’s harder to get approved to be anything. It’s painful enough to be let down by my body. Adding a bunch of bureaucrats will kill me. I couldn’t stand to hear that I’m not enough for a kid who needs me just as much as I need them. They’d rather keep the kid in the system than give it to someone like me. I’ve gotten too many rejections in this life, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

  “Hey, don’t cry, we’ll make it happen,” I assure her. “And you’ll be the best fucking mom ever.”

  Between sobs she says, “I’ll just try to be as great as mine. She’s amazing. Even with five children, she makes us feel that we’re special. We never lacked for attention or love. I’m not asking for five, I just want the one, you know. Or those little kids I imagined when I almost froze.”

  I move us to the dining table and sit with her on my lap. For a while, I let her cry while I hold her and assure her that everything will be fine.

  “Why am I even crying?” she asks, mumbling and sniffing.

  June

  I wish I could stay like this forever, nestled between his arms. He quiets down all the noise inside my head and makes me forget what I’m missing. If I could, I’d stay here forever, in his lap, my head resting on his chest. Wrapped in a cocoon he’s created just for me. His heart beating softly against my ear.

  If only I knew why he’s in my life. Hannah has a theory that life isn’t a coincidence. Every event happens for a reason and every person who enters your life has a role in it.

  There’s even a quote on her website about it that at the moment escapes me. Her point is that when you cross paths with someone, it’s because they’re part of your journey and they fit just right.

  Maybe I should call her and tell her what’s happening to me. She might be a few years younger than me but she’s so much wiser.

  Is she right though?

  Why’s Sterling part of my journey?

  Surprisingly, we fit.

  He’s like an old friend who walked back into my life after years of not seeing each other. Yet, we just met. This weekend has been perfect. Even energizing. I’m scared of what’s to come but also sure that everything will work out perfectly.

  His loneliness hurts me more than my own. Because he’s resigned to be like this for the rest of his life while I want to find something to fill that space—someone. A baby. Tonight though, tonight I want to tear down the walls I build around myself for him. Let him inside and allow myself to just be.

  This time is different from the first one. It’s a crazy move, so unlike me but just as I’m about to lean close to him, he does it first. He’s looking at me intently, a glint in his eye that makes me squirm and heats me all the way inside.

  Sterling presses his forehead against mine and kisses my nose and exhales. “We can’t.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I like you.” His voice is low even tortured. “More than like you. I’ve never wanted a woman more than I want you right now—or since that night.”

  “Then why not?” I ask, gathering my courage and not listening to that little voice that says, he’s right, June.

  “You’re ready for a lot more and that’s something—”

  I press my lips to his and give him a quick kiss. “It’s one night, Sterling. You want me just as much as I do you.”

  “Am I part of your list?” He chuckles.

  “Maybe? It’s so easy to forget about lists and trying to be perfect when you’re around. I’m not sure why. All I know is that it feels so liberating. Why not let me have something I’ve never had? A night where I can have a fantasy.”

  His eyes burst into flames. It’s as if a beast just woke up with my words. Whatever I said pushes him to the ledge. His hand slides behind the back of my neck, he pulls me even closer before his mouth takes mine.

  Sterling’s lips are so soft, tender at the beginning but he deepens the kiss right away.

  I melt. My heart is about to burst into flames. The urgency of the kiss ties my stomach into knots. I’ve never been kissed with so much hunger—need. Not even by him. Quivering in his lap, I try to get closer to him even when it’s physically impossible.

  My heart is pounding fast and hard. So hard I feel like I’m shaking inside. I don’t know if I should let him lead or just get naked and ride him. My core is aching with so much need.

  “I can never be,” he says, gasping for some air.

  Putting a finger on top of his lips, I assure him that I understand. “You’re an amazing guy, Sterling. A man who gives more than he realizes and tonight I’m not asking for more than having mind-blowing sex with me. The one only you can give me.”

  “Baby, I’ll show you how great you are and how amazing this can be.”

  The stupid nagging voice is reminding me every two seconds to stay focused. It’s here now and over. Don’t plan, don’t imagine, don’t believe in stupid dreams just because his hoarse voice is hypnotic and his mouth is magical, I shouldn’t want more than tonight.

  He picks me up and carries me to his bedroom.

  When we arrive at his room, he sets me down on the floor and pulls my sweatshirt over my head. Promptly, his mouth is on my skin, running along my neck. His teeth pulling down the straps of my bra off my shoulders.

  I moan as his hands roam around my waist pushing down my leggings.

&
nbsp; “What’s your fantasy?”

  “Hmm?” I moan when his mouth suckles my still clothed nipple.

  “In bed, what do you like?”

  “I’m not sure, never had mind-blowing sex and I know because so far everything is just okay.”

  “My little blue sky, that’s easy to top and make it perfect. By the end of the night, you might have a fantasy—and I’ll fulfill that tomorrow.”

  He finishes undressing me and undresses himself. He reaches for his nightstand and takes out a condom. A part of me is annoyed because, how many women has he brought here? Then, I remember this is the kind of guy I want for tonight. The player who knows how to please even if it’s only for one night.

  He places the condom on top of the bed.

  “We don’t need it, trust me.”

  His eyes stare into mine. “We can skip it,” he says thoughtfully. “It’s not the first time we’d do it without one.”

  “Sterling,” I whisper, enthralled by his gaze and trembling in need.

  He walks over to me. Grabs me by the waist and bends down to kiss me. One hand on the back of my neck. His long fingers massaging my scalp in a way that makes me shiver. Even that touch feels sexy—erotic.

  His lips move against mine. Gentle and loving. The kiss builds in intensity, his tongue slides into my mouth and strokes mine. The pace is painfully slow and yet, delicious. My brain is unable to think much but my body is becoming aware of every stroke of his fingers, his tongue, and his movement. Movements I match, like I know the choreography to this dance.

  Which is funny since I’ve never danced like this before. This is a tango. More like a Lambada. Those dances where body parts touch slowly or fast and it’s the preamble to a mind-blowing orgasm.

  I let out a loud moan as his rough hand goes over my breast and pinches my nipple. My entire body heats up when his mouth tugs and bites my hardened peaks. One of his hands slides down my belly and reaches between my legs.