Having It All

by Christi Barth

Josh stared at the deep, shadowed vee between the lapels. “Holy Mother of God, are you trying to torture me?”

  “A little,” Annabeth said with a tantalizing shrug.

  “C’mon. I find myself suddenly in desperate need of a drink.” Taking her hand, he pulled her into the crazy world of Miracle on 7th Street. “Oh, and look up.”

  Annabeth did—and gasped. The brick walls had lit wreaths every three feet. But hanging from the ceiling was the real eye-catcher. A thick row of hundreds, maybe thousands, of red Christmas balls at the ends of wide red ribbons. The other half of the ceiling was festooned with layers of pine garland, swagged chains of gold and red balls, and clusters of gold balls also tipping the ends of ribbons.

  She turned in a slow circle, her neck cranked all the way back. “Where are we, the North Pole?”

  “It’s a pop-up bar. Happens every year. Some of the themes change up, along with the drinks, of course. Only here between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Eve. They do another one during the Cherry Blossom Festival, too. We’ll come back for that.”

  It felt great, making the offer for a follow-up date in the spring. There wasn’t a doubt in Josh’s mind that they’d still be together then. Or at least, there wasn’t a doubt that he wanted to still be with Annabeth in the spring. Would she wise up by then and realize she could do better than him?

  God, he hoped not.

  They pushed through the door at the back to the adjacent rowhouse. Its ceiling was a solid layer of giant candy canes. Cupcakes and candies hung from strings of tinsel. There were rows down the middle of the long room of chains of gumdrops and swags of jelly beans.

  “This is incredible. Such a fun idea.”

  At least, that’s what she said. Josh noticed that she’d pretty much slowed her forward motion to a near stop. Also? She’d let go of his hand. Annabeth did not look like a woman having fun. Sure, it was Friday-night crowded and more than a little on the loud side. But Josh had figured she’d take that in stride after all her years waitressing.

  “Yeah, I come a couple of times every season.”

  Annabeth tapped her index finger on her lips. “Is it just a bar, though?”

  “Well, there’s three, all connected. All with different drinks. I guarantee we’ll be able to get you that mulled wine.”

  “But only bars? No restaurant? Or anything else?”

  Like what? A drag queen reimagining of A Christmas Carol? “We don’t have to stay long, if you’re hungry,” he offered slowly. How could Annabeth not like it? She was into quirky fun. For God’s sake, she’d been on a roller derby team for three years. “One drink and we can head back out to dinner.”

  “No. I’m, ah, not that hungry.”

  It felt like he was losing control of this date. Josh just didn’t understand why or how. He’d been positive it was right up her alley. So he hustled her to the next connecting door. His ace in the hole.

  “This is an all-religions-inclusive bar, by the way. This last room’s kind of tongue in cheek, but I love it.” Each barstool was outlined in blue twinkle lights. Big white lights, the same size and roundness as Japanese lanterns, hung over the bar. But each one had painted on it either a blue menorah or Star of David. And this ceiling was a solid layer of jam-packed Chinese takeout boxes.

  Suddenly, her purse strap required a double-handed grip. One that made it awkward for Josh to reach for her hand again. No, he wasn’t being paranoid. Something was definitely wrong with Annabeth. He’d screwed up.

  He just had zero idea of how. Or how to fix it. Or if it could be fixed.

  This was worse than his first, flat failure at a soufflé.

  Annabeth licked her glossy red lips. “It’s still a bar, though.”

  “Yeah.” Why wouldn’t she spit out whatever bugged her? A little defensively, Josh said, “So what?”

  “Is that all you see me as? Someone who feels most comfortable in a bar? Nothing more than a waitress at heart? Is that why both of our official dates have been at bars?”

  Whoa. He pulled her over to a high-top, out of the flow of traffic. “Where’s this coming from? Our first date was ice-skating.”

  “At a bar.”

  “Coincidentally, yes. On top of a building, though. Super cool. You could see the Kennedy Center and Georgetown University.” It still stung a little that Annabeth hadn’t had a good time. Josh wanted to take her back there before it closed for the season and do it right.

  “But you wouldn’t want to take me into the Kennedy Center?” She thumped her fingers against her sternum. “No highbrow theater or opera?”

  “What the hell are you talking about? I don’t go to fucking operas. Why would I take you on a date where we’d both nap for four hours in shitty seats?”

  This time, she tapped the tight, closed circle of her fingers against the table wrapped with a giant silver bow. “Knox and Logan took Madison and Brooke to a fundraiser at the Kennedy Center tonight. I heard that Knox bought a table, and all of you were invited.”

  “Again, I’m gonna say, So what? Griffin and Riley didn’t go. They had to work. I didn’t go because it sounded boring. They already had Knox’s money. They didn’t need my ass falling asleep in the chair suffering through bland banquet chicken, too.”

  “Or you didn’t want to take me because you don’t think I’m good enough for you and your rich, educated, heroically awesome friends.”

  Holy fuck, were those tears balanced on her eyelashes? How did this spiral out so fast? And over a fundraiser he’d worked damn hard to find a way out of attending for three years running?

  His jokes might cross the line once in a while. But Josh would swear on his life that he had never, would never insult her like that. Not only because he’d never hurt her. But because he sure didn’t see himself as better than anyone else.

  Josh was famous for not dying. Rich from a job he didn’t go to. And he’d ask the bartender to serve up the special rather than go through the excruciating exercise of trying to read the menu. He was no prize. Not like Annabeth, who was brave and tireless in her quest to do better, to be better.

  Josh’s first instinct was to hug her, to comfort her. But that didn’t feel like a solution. Annabeth prided herself on her bluntness. So he’d serve it right back to her. See if that did the trick.

  “Go look in the mirror. You’re the only one who’s stuck on thinking you aren’t good enough. Or hell, ask the guys. Ask your boss, Summer, who jumped at taking a chance on bringing you on. Not because she wanted to do you a favor. Because she needed the help and you were her best option.”

  Her chin jerked up. “Maybe I can do the job. That’s still up for discussion. That doesn’t mean I get the handsome chef as a boyfriend, too. It doesn’t mean I can fit into your world. Doesn’t mean you think I’m the right fit for you.”

  “For fuck’s sake, Annabeth! I never said that.” He swiped a hand down his jaw, baffled. “Why the hell don’t you think you can have it all?”

  “Because I never have. People like me don’t get that shot. I should’ve remembered that before thinking I had a shot with you. Before thinking this Christmas could be different.” She snatched her purse from the table and turned to walk away. To leave him.

  This was an epic pity party. And Josh sure as hell wasn’t invited.

  But there was no way he’d let her leave without getting to say his piece, too. Because it turned out he hadn’t done anything wrong. Not tonight anyway. All he’d done was accidentally press some hot buttons he hadn’t even known existed. So he snagged her wrist with two fingers. Then Josh stared into those velvety eyes, still teary and with pupils blown almost all the way to black in the dim holiday lighting.

  “You know what would make this Christmas different? If you finally, truly believed in yourself. That’d be a goddamned Christmas miracle.”

  Softly, sadly, Annabeth said, “Yeah, well, I stopped believing in Santa a long time ago, Josh.” Then she twisted out of his grip and walked out the door.

 
#

  Summer rearranged the rings and bracelets in the two overflowing jewelry boxes—aka impulse-buy central—next to the cash register. “Do you have any styling appointments today?”

  “One. At lunch.” Annabeth didn’t mind missing the meal. Skipping dinner last night, and breakfast today, wasn’t the reason for the empty pit in her stomach. No, that was wholly attributable to screwing things up with Josh.

  Guess she’d be the only person who lost weight over the holidays. Because the prospects for her mood to turn around anytime soon were bleak.

  “Ouch. Well, be sure you get their email. We’ll be doing a blast in a few weeks. I spent last night designing a snazzy image for our January event to prep for Valentine’s Day.”

  “What event?” Annabeth didn’t remember anything on the schedule. She might have lost an incredible man, but she didn’t think she was losing her brain cells, too.

  “Well, thanks to you being so forward-thinking and mentioning it a few weeks ago, I gave in to an epic brainstorm. We’re throwing a combination trunk show and group styling extravaganza. How do you like calling it Planning for Love?”

  “You can’t plan for love. All you can do is hope,” Annabeth muttered. Then she remembered that they weren’t on the couch at Summer’s apartment. No, they were at Forever Summer, during work hours, and her response was about eight miles from professional. “I mean, that sounds perfect.”

  Summer dropped all the bling back in the box. “What’s wrong? What did Josh do? I can have Riley go knock some sense into him as soon as you give me a general theme for the ass-kicking.”

  Wow. She had the best combination friend / boss in the world. “Thank you for offering your boyfriend’s services. But I think the best thing is to keep all of you out of it. Involving anyone else, with how close you all are, would simply get messy.”

  With a harsh scowl, Summer splayed her hands at the waist of her red-and-white-striped pencil skirt that made her look like a sexy candy cane. “Did you say ‘how close you all are’? And if so, how about you think about what’s wrong with that pronoun? You’re one of us, Annabeth. Part of the extended family of the ACSs, the Naked Men.”

  “I’m really not.”

  “Bullshit.” Summer looked around the boutique. Noticed the shoppers at the front and drew Annabeth to the opposite end with a firm hand on her elbow. “You were friends with the guys for years. And over the past six months, you’ve become best friends—and even a roommate for a while—with me and Madison and Brooke and Chloe. Like a sister, but without all the annoying history to jam things up.”

  Annabeth’s throat tightened with unshed tears that she tried to swallow down. “I feel the same way about all of you. But I don’t fit into your circle.”

  “Because you’re not sleeping with any of the guys? For goodness sake, sex is not the only kind of intimacy.”

  Talking about this was hard enough. Hell, admitting it to herself was hard enough. But talking about it while Summer’s deep-brown eyes crinkled with such concern was even harder.

  Sucking in a few sharp, short breaths, Annabeth let it all out. “I’m twenty-five and I haven’t finished college. Until three months ago, I went home from work every night with shoes sticky from booze. You’re all smart and polished and, well, rich. I’m not ashamed of how I got here, but I know it was a very different path. I don’t measure up to you all.”

  The crinkles of concern stretched into wide-eyed surprise. Summer’s fingers bit much harder into her arm. “Again, I call bullshit. I’m tempted to shake you for spewing such nonsense. Where is this coming from?”

  Annabeth looked down at the tips of her pointy boots. Good thing they weren’t patent leather. She didn’t need to see a reflection of the misery she felt. “There was that fundraiser at the Kennedy Center last night. Josh didn’t take me.”

  Summer batted away that fact with her hand. “Josh hates those things. What—you think he’s embarrassed by you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Josh is a loudmouth and a flirt and a prankster. He’s also loyal and fair and would never, ever treat someone as though they were less. So why don’t you tell me what—or who—really set you off?”

  It had been easier to fight with Josh. To pick a fight with Josh. Easier by far than revealing the secret fears Annabeth worked quite hard most days to ignore. The insecurity that dogged her in a hometown full of the most powerful people in the world…and everyone else.

  For something to do, to look at, Annabeth whipped a silk scarf off a hanger and started rolling it up. Slowly, inch by soft purple inch, as the words spilled from her.

  “I talked to my brothers. We try to do a joint Skype every few weeks. I told them about how much fun it was to spend Thanksgiving Eve with all of you. And Jamie told me I was acting like a fool. That he’s enlisted, and that’s never going to change. There’s no hanging out, being friends with the officers. Respect, sure. But everybody knows they’re on two different levels.”

  “True, perhaps. But that’s a command structure to keep troops alive. That is not how our friendship works.”

  Which was exactly what she’d told her brother. Until the other one took his side. “Percy agreed with him. Told me that I should stop chasing shadows. That I should protect myself by getting some distance before it inevitably falls apart. Before you all leave me behind when you go on expensive trips, or to swanky restaurants. Or just…leave me behind, period.”

  Summer put two gentle fingers under her chin and tipped her head up. “Annabeth, you’ve always been a freaking force of nature when it comes to independence. This isn’t like you. Why on earth are you letting them drag you down like that?”

  The sleigh bells on the door jangled. The daytime clerk, Elisa, came in with a cardboard tray holding three coffees. She spotted Annabeth and Summer in their huddle and changed course to man the cash register. It was a reminder that this was a place of business. That they both needed to get back to work.

  But there was zero chance Summer would let her walk away until she admitted the truth.

  “It’s easy to have bravado, to act like you don’t care, like you don’t have anything to lose…when, in fact, you don’t.” Annabeth crumpled the rolled scarf into her fist. “But now I do. Now I care so much for all of you. And one of these days, you’re going to realize I don’t belong.”

  “Or maybe one of these days, you’ll realize that you do belong.”

  It couldn’t be that easy. Not after a lifetime of fighting and scraping for every single thing even remotely good. Flinging her head all the way up, she challenged, “Why didn’t I get a thirty-day review?”

  A snort of laughter sent Summer’s spill of dark hair falling over her shoulders. “Because this isn’t a freaking corporation. And because from the day I offered you the job, I knew you were the perfect fit. No reason to waste time belaboring the obvious.”

  “I need to know if I’m doing a good enough job. That you don’t regret hiring me. That this isn’t just a trial period.”

  “Oh, for—” Summer pushed her into the storeroom. She closed the door and then kicked off her mile-high red stilettos. With a sigh, she pulled out her emergency bottle of Baileys and poured them each a shot.

  Annabeth stared at the liquid that would be as sweet as a melted doughnut. “It’s ten fifteen in the morning.”

  “Drink up,” Summer ordered. After the Dixie cups were empty, she asked, “Now, is this truly all about the boutique? Or is it about Josh? Are you worried that dating him will just be a trial period?”

  The bite of the alcohol punched through the thickness in her throat. As did the bite of Summer’s question. “Ouch.”

  “That’s not an answer.” Summer plopped into the big papasan chair. “And before you get riled up, let me say, for the record, that you’re an exemplary employee. Your only fault is that you work too hard and need to set yourself some boundaries. You’re a wonderful friend, and whether you lose all your savings at the casino across the Potomac or w
in the lottery, that won’t change. The doubt that’s haunting you is the only thing that could drive Josh away.”

  Damn, but that made sense. “You mean being scared of the thing is worse than the thing itself?”

  “In this case, yes. In the case of, say, a hornet or a rabid woodchuck, no.”

  She’d essentially hobbled herself. Emotionally anyway. And then punished poor Josh for being really thoughtful, for trying to give her a special holiday experience. “This is all my fault,” Annabeth murmured.

  Summer tossed a knit hat at her. “Only partially. Let’s blame plenty on the hard knocks life gave you, douchebag customers who treated you like crap, and snotty, judgy women who sneered at your sneakers and miniskirt on the subway.”

  The faint jingle of bells came through the door. Annabeth jolted. “We can’t stay back here all day.”

  “We’ll stay as long as we need to. I own the place, remember?”

  “You’re bossy, too. But really, I want to get back to work. I want to prepare for that noon appointment. And not think about this all for a little while. It needs to be still and set. Like, um, Jell-O.”

  Grinning, Summer said, “Ooh, a cooking analogy. It shows that you’re dating a chef.”

  After yelling at him in public for no good reason? Confusing the heck out of him? Lashing out and accusing him of such wrong things? After walking away?

  Annabeth would be lucky if Josh was still her friend, let alone her boyfriend. “I don’t know that I am. Not anymore. Not after the way I treated him.”

  “What are you going to do about that?”

  Annabeth carefully stroked along the spiked ends of the leftover pine garland curled on top of the file cabinet. “Hope for a Christmas miracle?”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Josh curled the buttery dough over the thick layer of brown sugar, pecans, cinnamon, and butter. Starting the long end was the hardest part. Then it was like rolling a worm out of Silly Putty. Simple. Satisfying.

  Why couldn’t life be as easy to handle as food?