Once Upon a Holiday

by Claudia Burgoa

  It’d be so different if we search for the real meaning of the season. If we found the magic of what’s important again. Money isn’t everything. Look at my parents, they were loaded. My father worked himself to the ground. He actually died of a heart attack while at work. He promised the world to Mom and never delivered.

  Once Dad died, she tried to give herself what he didn’t. Unfortunately, her life was cut short too. They worked hard to find happiness and I don’t think they ever found it.

  This is where my problem lies.

  I’ve been living a fulfilled life. Everything I do brings me joy. I’m content. Happiness isn’t something on my radar. My legacy is my art. Five hundred years from now, I hope people recognize me as they do Auguste Rodin, Praxiteles, Donatello, Giacometti, and so many others.

  It’s a big reach, but I want to be that famous. I am in fact as famous as them, but not sure if my fame will continue after I die or if it’ll die with me.

  At least, that was my goal up until a couple of weeks ago.

  As we leave the house in Steamboat behind, I don’t give two shits about my legacy. My worry and the root of my block lies next to me, in the passenger seat.

  June fell asleep a few minutes after I pulled out of the driveway. She’s tired since we spent most of the morning skiing. I’m glad she’s asleep because I can’t deal with questions about my childhood and I don’t want to learn more about her.

  Not when I’m afraid this might be it.

  All night long, I kept thinking about how I’m going to convince her to stay with me at the penthouse. Let’s send her parents to the house. I don’t want anyone near what I’m trying to build for us. I can’t find the words or a good excuse. It shouldn’t be a problem, except, I can’t explain why I don’t want this to end.

  I have sixteen days left with June. Two without her family hovering around her. The babies give me the perfect excuse to be close to her, but not with her. If I can’t pull this miracle off, what’s left?

  Phone calls every other day to make sure she’s okay. Video calls to see the babies and at least for eighteen years, I’ll have many excuses to go and see her wherever she lives.

  I want fucking more. Birthdays, Christmases, first steps, first words, and more than two babies. But can I?

  Well, so much for expiration dates and never getting involved in my life.

  My phone rings, I look at the dashboard. It’s Abby. I click ignore so she doesn’t wake up June, but it rings again, and this time June hears it. She stretches and yawns. Her eyes find me, and I glance quickly just to wink at her.

  “You should answer,” she suggests.

  “It’s Abby,” I say as if it explains it but the phone rings again and this time, June reaches for the dashboard and answers.

  “Slugger, why are you ignoring me?”

  “Oh, fuck, you didn’t just call me that, Abigail,” I protest.

  June chuckles.

  “What do you need?”

  “We’re in town,” she offers. “Come over and have dinner with us.”

  “I’m in Steamboat,” I excuse myself.

  “We should be back in a few hours,” June corrects me. “We can definitely be there by six.”

  Abby clears her throat. “Interesting, you have company?”

  “Oh, no,” June says. “I’m just a friend.”

  “Look, Abs, we’re not sure about the traffic and June might not be up to visiting anyone tonight. We had a long week and spent the past couple of days with her family. Mind if we visit you tomorrow?”

  Abby stays quiet for a few breaths then she says, “Call me tomorrow to see what works best for you two. I am looking forward to meeting you, June.”

  I finish the call before either one can say more. Any other day I could’ve used an excuse to get out of seeing Abby, but I think this is just perfect. An excuse to hang out in the same house for at least another day.

  When we arrive in the city June says, “It’s not even five and the sun is down for the day. Can we see the house tomorrow?”

  I nod, take her hand, and kiss it. “Do you want the guys to pick up takeout or should we try to cook?”

  “What are you in the mood for?”

  “Only hungry for you, baby. You’ll have to be in charge of dinner.”

  She grabs my phone and starts tapping it. “Done, we’re having Mexican food from a place Em loves. They should be delivering it when we arrive.”

  “You didn’t ask Beck?”

  “Nope, you’re not the only person with people,” she says, winking at me. “Now drive because after we’re done eating, I want dessert.”

  My dick gets hard. It better be me. Swollen cock, tight balls. The pressure is killing me.

  Fuck, will I ever be able to touch her again?

  “What’s for dessert?” I ask hopeful. Maybe it’s her pussy and I can eat it for an appetizer.

  “Just ordered flan and churros,” she says. “I’m eating for three, after all.”

  “Sounds delicious,” I tell her, happy that she’s coming to the penthouse with me.

  How do I convince her to stay with me forever?

  “You had a girl in your car yesterday,” Abby says as she enters my studio.

  “Give me the keys to the studio back,” I order.

  She wiggles them and shakes her head and starts roaming through the room looking at my work. Then, stops at the table and scrunches her nose. “Please tell me I’m not looking at your girlfriend, naked.”

  “Stay away from my studio,” I grunt.

  “She’s pretty.” Abby ignores me. “I didn’t have to see her tattoo.”

  “Actually, she doesn’t have a tattoo. It’s on her list and—” I stop myself. “Never mind. What do you need?”

  “How long have we known each other?”

  “Decades, what do you want?” I ask annoyed because fuck her and her need to know everything that’s happening in my life and fix what’s not broken.

  She paces a couple of times and then stops in front of me.

  “You let me talk to her and we’re having dinner tonight.”

  I shake my head. “No, I haven’t agreed to that.”

  “June did.”

  “How?” I ask and cross my arms.

  “Beck gave me her phone number.” She grins knowing she has the upper hand. “Two weeks, huh.”

  My bodyguard is a dead man and June better have a good reason to be talking to Abigail. Being polite doesn’t count.

  “Get it over with, Abby. Circling around shit isn’t your style. What do you need me to tell you so you can be on your way?”

  “She sounds smart. Nothing like the girls you’ve been with,” she explains. “Not that I ever got to talk to them. Still. This one is different. I can feel it. So, I want to know how I can help because I don’t want you to—”

  “Fuck it up?” I ask and try not to glare at her. “Not to worry about it, it’s nothing serious. You know me, Abs. I’m a loner.”

  She shakes her head. “Seriously, who fucked you up?”

  Abby has been asking that question for years. She swears I’m a catch but since someone broke me, I just can’t see more than a quick fuck and the next rush of adrenaline.

  “So, we’re going to your house tonight?” I change the subject.

  “No, actually June invited us to the house.”

  Her words feel like a slap in the face because, fuck, she moved out without even telling me. I knew she was going to leave because neither one of us has an excuse to stay together but still.

  It stings.

  “Abby, leave,” I say.

  “Sterling,” she sighs. I ignore her.

  Instead of working with clay, I go to the changing room and get ready to work with metal. I can’t deal with anything else. I have to destroy.

  Abigail remains standing in the same place. Her face saddened as usual. She’s pitying me.

  “I won’t see you tonight, will I?” she says.

  “Goodbye, A
bs.”

  I storm to my workshop in the next room, slamming the door shut.

  I swallow the anger and put the hammer down as my arms shake of exhaustion.

  Fuck! I wipe the sweat from my forehead.

  I close my eyes trying to get ahold of my emotions. I’ve been doing this for hours and the tightening feeling continues clogging my throat.

  My anger comes like an impossible build up of steam, burning on the way out.

  Why did Abby’s visit leave me this angry?

  Because June left the penthouse. That’s it. That’s my breaking point.

  She left me.

  When I open my eyes, I realize it’s not anger.

  It’s sadness.

  It’s a hollowness that holds shards of glass between my soul and body. That’s pain. Pain of losing June.

  Fuck, have I made a mistake?

  When it comes to my future, I always thought I was in charge and I had everything figured out. It’s not. Thinking I had everything I needed was the biggest lie of all. Until now, I was empty. It’s fucking scary when you realize there’s something missing in your life.

  I finally recognize that my life is a sham. Art is my trade but not what completes me. I’m lonely. I don’t live in the moment. I hide behind my creations. There’s an empty space in my heart. And what a fucking twist of fate when I realize that the only thing I need to fulfill my life is my family—the one June and I are creating.

  June

  What was I thinking?

  The problem is, I haven’t been thinking much—if at all.

  I’ve been playing make believe with a guy who lives in a different reality. Since we had dinner with my brothers, it seemed logical at the time to invite his family to spend some time with us.

  Now I have a table set up for five people, dinner in the oven, and a text from a woman named Abby apologizing that an emergency arose, and her family won’t be showing. What she didn’t say is that the family included Sterling.

  I knew this would be over when we came back to Denver. But after this morning I was hoping it’d be different. It’s ten o’clock at night and he never showed up. I turn to look at the tree I trimmed earlier and the house that now looks like a home.

  Why did I go crazy decorating the house?

  It looks as if Santa set up a subsidiary of the North Pole. I had hoped he’d stay with me at least for the remaining of my stay in Colorado.

  Not gonna happen. Let’s erase every idea I concocted in the past few days. Having my parents over for Christmas is going to fill the void. I hoped Sterling would get to know Jeannette and my parents, they’re important to me. But this is for the best.

  If this is it, he should at least send me a text, give me a call, or something.

  My fingers play with the phone. I’ve been typing texts to Sterling and erasing them before I get the nerve to hit send. There’s nothing to say, is there?

  Message received. He didn’t want to move the party to a bigger place. It’s over. Time for reality, plans, and a future where we don’t exist as … nothing. We aren’t a couple.

  Who are you kidding, June? You were never anything.

  Still, I’m afraid there’s always going to be some small emptiness in my heart that will never go away. He’ll be around, hopefully. We have to sit down and define our future—if he wants to be a part of it.

  Having a baby is my dream. I’ve been ready for this moment. His decision won’t affect me directly. I should call my lawyer tomorrow to have him draw up the paperwork. On second thought, I should email him now.

  Once I set everything in motion, I start cleaning the kitchen. Setting the leftovers in my new containers. The ones I planned on using for the next couple of weeks to send Sterling with food. Though, I also found the perfect room for him to set up a studio. Actually, it’s the pool house.

  How crazy was I to think that maybe he could set up something and … I sigh and continue working when I hear the door open and a big thud sound.

  “You couldn’t fucking call me?” Sterling yells. “Is there something wrong with your phone?”

  I frown at him, crossing my arms. “Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  “Why did you leave a note when you knew I wouldn’t read it until I came home?”

  I frown and hold my breath. His face is red, his eyes on fire. He’s wearing a T-shirt and a pair of unkempt jeans. His hair is tousled and if I know him well, I can say he just came from the studio.

  “Hi to you too,” I say, immune to his temper.

  He waves the paper I left taped on the fridge and sets it on the countertop. “Let’s move the party to the house. Seriously? What am I supposed to do with that, Juniper?”

  I shrug because I’m too tired to understand what he’s doing in the house or fighting with me.

  “What does this mean?” he asks. “What party are you talking about? For a woman who is so methodical, this doesn’t make any sense.”

  I was too busy trying to make today perfect. Another great example of how my behavior is affected by him.

  “I was busy, it made sense to scribble the note,” I begin my explanation, but it doesn’t make much sense, so I expand. “Your sister-in-law called my phone to invite us for dinner. I suggested they join us. I had to decorate since my parents arrive tomorrow and I want to be ready. Also, the penthouse isn’t child friendly. By the way, she agreed with me. At the time it seemed like a good idea to just pack my things and move in here. Maybe you’d join me. Earlier it—”

  “You want me here?” he interrupts me.

  I nod, having trouble speaking, not because I’m afraid of this version of him. It’s because I’m trying to understand what’s happening. Are we fighting? Why is he upset? I’m confused as to what we’re discussing, even when it seems pretty clear.

  He marches to where I am, his body pressing mine against the counter and his arms caging me. “Why didn’t you call me?”

  “When I’m working, I hate to be interrupted. You don’t like interruptions either. I’ve watched you. You said you’d come for lunch, but your sister-in-law called at nine and I had to leave to get everything ready.”

  He closes his eyes and slumps his shoulders.

  “I can’t anymore,” he says, leaning his forehead on top of mine.

  The hot drift of his breath, his mouth so close to mine. I’m desperate for a kiss. My heart thunders inside my chest. My body weakens and I don’t understand what he can’t do until it hits me.

  Stay with us. Don’t leave me.

  Instead, I say, “It’s okay.”

  At least I emailed my lawyer. He answered back, explaining me my options. In a few days, he’ll send the documents for Sterling to sign. It’s his choice. Visitations, custody, rescinding his parental right. Tomorrow, Mom is going to insist I go home where she can help me.

  There’s a strange pang of pain in my heart. It’s not love, I insist. We just met, but perhaps, I gave up a lot more of myself than I wanted to. “Really, I get it.”

  “No, you don’t,” he argues. “You’ve no fucking idea of what’s happening to me.”

  He’s right, because even with the anger in his eyes he kisses me tenderly, molding my body against his. His warm and sturdy arms secure me firmly. My hands search for an anchor, his neck. I link them behind his head losing myself in the kiss.

  The things he does with his mouth, his tongue, how he deepens the kiss hungrily and so urgently. It’s as if the world is about to end and this is the last second we have left. He’s taking his last meal, his last breath, and his last beat.

  Perhaps he’s trying to give me one last kiss before we part ways. Our story won’t have an ordinary happy ending. So, it’ll never be about the ending but the loving and how happy our kids will be after all the loving we did during our chapter.

  One last time, I think and turn off my mind, letting him take whatever he needs tonight. To give me everything I need from him. He finally unravels me, and I let chaos invade me.


  “June,” he says, breathing hard. “I need you.”

  I understand him because I need him just as much.

  There’s this pull I’ve been fighting since we found out about the babies that’s getting stronger every day. I don’t understand it, but it’s hard fighting it.

  Even if I try to stop him, I can’t anymore. Not tonight.

  I have to feel close to him.

  Let him make me feel alive one last time.

  He’s so different than any other man and I know that if I stay any longer, he’ll destroy me. But if I pull away right now, my skin will wither without his touch. It’s been craving his skin just as much.

  “Sterling,” I whisper before his mouth finds mine again.

  Somewhere between the hot, hungry kisses, we begin to pull at each other’s clothes. The need sharpens. No goodbye has ever felt this right, this incredible. Just as explosive as our first encounter and I’m afraid that nothing will ever feel as intense as this moment. As him.

  So, I decide to beg him. “Take me to our bed, please.”

  The first and only time we will share it as an us.

  “Please,” I ask again and kiss him with lust pulsing through me.

  He lifts me; I hug his waist with my legs. He takes several long strides toward the staircase and then up the stairs. We make it to the room in record time.

  “Tell me if you want to stop,” he says when he lowers me over the bed. “I know your boundaries and your rules and the last thing—”

  “I understand,” I say, pulling him down to me. “I want this, us, right now.”

  Nothing is real or has been real since we met. For some crazy reason since I met this guy, I let him touch a part of myself that no one is allowed to see. I allow myself to be greedy and enjoy what he offers me.

  He sucks on my nipples, his tongue circling around them with the same expertise as when he kissed me. One then the other. Tugging the tips of my tits while his skillful fingers tease along my thighs, parting them. He runs them all the way to my apex. My body tightens as his thumb caresses my slit.