Having It All

by Christi Barth

  The clatter of shoes over hardwood meant one of his roommates was home. The sharp, loud echo pegged it as Knox’s crazy-expensive shoes. They were probably ruined from the layers of salt and snow piling up on the sidewalks. But Knox didn’t care about wear and tear as long as he looked good. Everything in his life was disposable. Except for the ACS. And now, Madison.

  Was that how Annabeth felt about herself? Because Josh still, after more than twenty-four hours solid, couldn’t understand why she’d gotten so upset.

  Tie askew, collar open, and hair rumpled, Knox leaned against the doorframe. “Dude. It’s midnight.”

  “Look at that. Two PhDs and you’ve mastered the art of interpreting the digital clock on the stove. No wonder they call you the genius of the group.” He shaped the fat log, pinching the ends to seal in the filling.

  “Don’t get your nuts in a twist. I’m just saying it’s late to be cooking.”

  “Didn’t you get the group text? I called a house meeting. Breakfast tomorrow. These are cinnamon rolls to reward your lazy asses for getting out of bed.”

  “House meeting on a Sunday morning?” Knox pulled out a chair and straddled it backward. “You’d better have a gangster chasing you. The FBI on the verge of raiding the house. A long-lost sister who suddenly appeared out of nowhere that wants to meet you…oh, wait. We did that already with Logan.”

  “Very funny.” True, yes. But something most of them still didn’t really joke about.

  Logan loved his newfound sister, Madison. He was still, however…adjusting to the idea of his (formerly) man-whore best friend getting into bed with her every night. The three-carat engagement ring helped smooth things over—along with the tender way Knox treated her. But Logan’s fists still clenched and his eye twitched whenever they joked about it.

  An easy, satisfied grin slid over Knox’s face. “I’ve got a very nice buzz going. Combination of a 2005 Bordeaux and some truly excellent sex with my fiancée. Even your dour lack of appreciation for my humor won’t slow me down.”

  The bread knife slid out of the wooden block with a steely snick. Josh cut the log in half, then half again, before making even slices. “I’m not dour. I’m…depressed.”

  “Same thing. One’s a view from the outside, the other’s a view from the inside.”

  That almost, almost pulled a smile out of him. “The view sucks. Period.”

  “Is that what our house meeting’s about? Ways to cheer you up? Because I’m just going to start with the obvious. Steaks. Manhattans. I’ll even offer you the pick of my go-to list of hot women. It hasn’t been updated since I proposed, obviously, but I’m sure at least half of them are still single and raring for a good time.”

  The knife clattered as it fell to the wooden cutting board. “I don’t want a good time. I want Annabeth.”

  “Please tell me that’d sound better if I knew the context,” Riley said. He was in sock feet, which meant, unlike Knox, he probably wore boots to combat the six inches piling up outside and had left them at the front door.

  “It would.” Josh took in his rumpled appearance—something unheard of for the always pulled together man who probably color-coordinated the stick up his ass. Shirttails poked out from under an NTSB sweatshirt, massive bedhead...they added up to only one thing. “Damn it, you just had sex, didn’t you?”

  A smug, shit-eating grin spread across his friend’s face. “Dude, it’s a snowy Saturday night. Why the hell wouldn’t I? Unless I was dumb enough to tell my girlfriend we wouldn’t have sex…oh, wait, that was you.” Riley laughed and high-fived Knox.

  After heaving a big sigh, Josh said, “I can’t believe that after all these years, you jokers are the best friends I’ve managed to scrape off the sidewalk.”

  “I can’t help it that you imprinted on my awesomeness like a baby duckling when we slept next to each other in that freaking frozen cave in Switzerland.”

  Turning slowly—and bringing the knife with him—Josh said in a low, ominous voice, “I thought we agreed to never, ever discuss that.”

  “Yeah, but you’re looking all pathetic, which means it’s almost impossible to resist poking at you.”

  Josh dropped the cinnamon rolls into a pan and covered it with cling wrap before stuffing it in the fridge. “Maybe I need a female friend. One who’ll actually try to make me feel better when I’m having a crap day. One who’ll make brownies and feed them to me. In bed.”

  “Either you’re a sexist pig, or we’ve circled back to talking about Annabeth.” Knox pulled a bottle from the wine rack on the wall.

  Without spending ten minutes perusing his options and studying the labels. He must be well past buzzed and most of the way to drunk already. “Lemme open that for you.”

  “For us,” Knox corrected. With a dramatic flourish, he bowed at the waist. “For you, sir, have woman trouble, and we shall hunker down and tell filthy jokes and exaggerated tales of conquest and drink heavily until your heart is lightened. Or until you pass out, shitfaced.”

  “Is this what the house meeting’s about?” Riley asked, rubbing the snow out of his hair. “Because I’d rather do this now, over wine, than drag my ass out of bed early.”

  “No. The meeting’s—fuck.” Josh threw the cork into the sink. Where it probably bounced right out, being fucking cork. The plan was not to get into this now. Not when he was in a fucking sulk and trying to cook himself out of it. “Look, I need your help.”

  “I’ve been waiting years for you to admit that,” Riley said with a straight face. “And I bet Logan a Franklin that you’d turn to me for help instead of Knox. So would you mind putting a pin in this until he’s here to pay up?”

  He banged the cupboards getting out the glasses. Because it felt good. Not as good as half an hour with the heavy bag, but the gym was closed now. “What the hell do you think I want help with?”

  “Your style. Or lack thereof.”

  “This coming from the man who thinks a navy work blazer counts as style,” Josh sneered. Riley’s closet screamed federal agent. Even here in D.C., that wasn’t acknowledged as a good look.

  “You have a pair of neon green socks. With orange lightning bolts.”

  Damn straight he did. “Those are my guaranteed-sex socks. Women see them, instantly know I’m fun and self-confident, and do their damnedest to lure me into bed.” His voice rose, keeping an even pace with his rising frustration. “This isn’t about my socks. I want you all to weigh in on a business plan to expand into a fleet of food trucks.”

  “It’s about time,” Knox said quietly.

  For a minute, there was only the sound of the wine glugging into three glasses.

  “Okay, if we’re talking big, scary steps into the future… I’m going to propose to Summer on Valentine’s Day.” Riley lifted his glass in a toast to himself.

  “That’s fantastic!” Josh grinned down at him. “Already? You sure?”

  “I’d do it tomorrow. Or on Christmas. But her outfit wouldn’t be right. For a woman who owns a clothing boutique, even I know that her outfit will need to be off-the-hook for this proposal. V-Day makes it a slam dunk.”

  “That’s very perceptive of you.” Knox got up, put Riley in a choke hold, and noogied the top of his head. “Welcome to the club. Summer’s one of a kind.”

  “That she is. Which only leaves Josh…”

  He threw up both of his hands. “I’m sure as hell not proposing. I’m pretty sure Annabeth doesn’t want anything to do with me. Not anymore. I just don’t know why.”

  “Her brothers messed with her head,” Ry said absently as he slid down to his knees and wrestled Knox to the floor.

  It was like a giant bellows had just blown out all the fog in his head. This was damned pertinent info for Riley to be sitting on. It just wasn’t fleshed out enough to be actionable. Josh braced his hands on his thighs and bent over them. “What? How do you know this?”

  “Summer brought me up to speed over dinner, because she needed to vent. I’m not suppose
d to say anything.”

  “You’re not engaged yet,” Knox said sternly as he climbed back onto the chair. “That still makes us higher on the secrets status. Spill.”

  “We think it’s out of some misguided attempt to protect her from getting hurt. They told her basically to remember where she comes from. That Annabeth shouldn’t be hanging with so-called celebrities who have box seats at Nats games. That she wasn’t good enough to run with us.”

  Josh put his back to the fridge and slid all the way to the floor, stunned. “Why would she believe it?”

  “We all believe the worst about ourselves.” Knox tapped a finger against his temple. “I’d call that day one of Psych 101.”

  He swallowed half of his Malbec in one long gulp. “I went to culinary school, remember? Partly to avoid classes like statistics and psychology. How about you bring me up to speed?”

  “I don’t have to. You’ve lived it, Josh. You didn’t think you were good enough. Classic insecurity due to your parents treating you like you’re not worthy because you’re not useful to their business.”

  Riley jumped in. “You didn’t feel good enough because you had such a crap time in school. Because even today you can’t read as easily as nine-tenths of the world.”

  Knox refilled his wine, then crouched down to be at eye level with Josh. And it was one of those moments when all the joking pretense slipped away. It was just one of his best friends laying out the hard-to-swallow truth. “No matter how many times we’ve told you that you’re smart and successful…” With a quirk to his lips, he stood and said, “And only slightly less sexy and suave than me.”

  Well, shit.

  He got it, now. Josh never would have put it together without the help of the Naked Men. But that was something all five of them had in common. They were crap at seeing the truth about themselves. First-rate at helping each other out, though.

  Thank God. Thank God they’d survived the crash eleven years ago, kept themselves alive, and gotten off that mountain. Josh couldn’t imagine his life without them. He knuckled his way off the floor.

  Riley swirled his wine, took a healthy swig. “Should I open another bottle while we hash out how to fix this?”

  “No need. I’ve already got a plan.” Or at least, he knew where to start. Josh pointed at the ugly-ass, kitschy-as-hell snowman cookie jar in the center of the table. It’d been his present from the guys when he passed his baking and pastry practical exam. “I’m going to make a Christmas miracle happen.”

  #

  Annabeth tugged at the hem of the red velvet skirt. The too-short skirt. Even her above-the-knee black leather boots left a big swath of leg exposed. Which had been fine when she wore this sexy Santa costume three Halloweens ago.

  On a Sunday afternoon in the U.S. Botanical Garden’s conservatory? With lots of kids around to see the model train exhibit? She felt exposed. Embarrassed. Idiotic.

  And about a heartbeat away from turning around and heading back to the car.

  Until she connected, with a visceral snap in her system, to a pair of bright blue eyes. Eyes she’d swear belonged to Josh Hardwick. It was just hard to tell, what with the fluffy white beard, white hair spilling out from under a Santa hat, and an oversized red velvet suit.

  It couldn’t be. The odds of them both showing up, dressed like Santa, were…

  Laughable.

  Annabeth laughed softly as she made her way along the reflecting pool flanked with a double row of poinsettias. The thickest glut of the crowd was huddled around the models of the Capitol and Jefferson Monument, completely covered in plant materials. Josh was at the opposite end, by a replica of the Washington Monument. Spiky blue plants surrounded it that mirrored the blue of his eyes.

  Nervous, she ran her fingers along the cluster of white branches. The laughter dried up. Now that she was here? Annabeth didn’t have a clue what to say.

  Thankfully, Josh started. “You came. I wasn’t sure that you would.”

  “You asked me to come and talk. As your friend. No matter what, that doesn’t change. Us being friends.”

  He turned in a circle, arms outstretched. “What do you think of the venue?”

  Still unsure of where he was headed, she offered cautiously, “It’s definitely not a bar, I’ll give you that.”

  “Exactly. Mega-Christmasy.” Josh pointed through the doorway to the adjoining room, almost completely filled by an enormous decorated tree. “D.C. centric, with all these models of monuments and landmarks. Just like us.”

  Hope sparked in her heart. Hope that her over-the-top breakdown hadn’t scared him off for good. Hope that she could, indeed, fix this. “You’re saying this is another date?”

  “Third time’s the charm, I’m hoping.” He held up a white-gloved hand. “But we need to get a couple of things cleared up first. Before you decide if you want to proceed with the actual date.”

  Annabeth shook her head so hard that her hat flew off and landed on the dome of the Library of Congress model. “No. Wait. Stop.”

  “That doesn’t bode well,” Josh said dryly as he rescued her hat.

  “Sorry. I mean, you can’t keep talking. I need to apologize before you go any further.”

  “No, you don’t.”

  Oh, he was so stubborn. Such a gentleman, trying to take the blame. It was sweet and thoughtful and sooo Josh. Well, the hell with that.

  She tried to put a finger over his mouth. The springy beard had her poking the tip of his nose instead. “Shut up and listen. Maybe even enjoy the moment, because you’re well aware I don’t apologize very often.” Annabeth smoothed the front of her skirt. “Do you want to know why I’m dressed like this?”

  He traced the white fur braceleting her wrist. “You bet I do. Us pulling Santa twinsies means that everyone in the whole conservatory wants to know why you’re dressed like that.”

  No doubt someone had their phone out and her apology would be on YouTube by tonight. Which would be a romantic keepsake, if it worked.

  Or, if it didn’t, a horrible instant replay of the moment she lost Josh forever.

  “You said it’d take a Christmas miracle for me to believe in myself. I thought a visual aid might help convince you that it had happened.” Grabbing her hat, Annabeth tugged it back onto her head. If she was going to go for broke, might as well be fully dressed for it. “You were right, Josh. I’ve spent years projecting an image to the world I didn’t believe. I let that insecurity grow into a wall between us. One that I was too scared to scale. I’m so sorry.”

  “You think you get to take home first prize for screwing this up? No way. It was a team effort.” He hooked his thumbs into the wide patent leather belt. “Why do you think I’m wearing St. Nick’s suit?”

  “I honestly have no idea. But I love it,” Annabeth admitted with a grin.

  Josh fluffed his beard. “I figured it’d take a Christmas miracle for you to take another chance on dating me.”

  He had it all backward. Annabeth goggled at him, genuinely confused that he refused to let her take the blame. “Why? When this was entirely my fault? When I’m the one who flipped out all because my brothers happened to push the right buttons to set me off?”

  “I could’ve been more sensitive about your past as a waitress…if I’d had clue one that it bothered you, deep down. Honestly? I took you to those places because I figured you’d never had the chance to do the holiday bar scene because of your job. But good intentions don’t mean squat. Not if you felt uncomfortable for even a second.”

  “I did, but it was all on me.” The irony of the situation struck her. For once, Annabeth was using a standard breakup line to try to keep the guy. “This is one of those rare times when it really wasn’t about you, or anything you did. It was all me.” She crossed her arms, hugging herself, equally ashamed and pissed that it had gotten this far. “This was my stuff that I ignored for far too long. It turns out that when you ignore a problem, it doesn’t go away. It just sneaks out at the worst possible time in
a surprise attack.”

  Gently, Josh tugged her arms apart. And kept a tight hold on both of her hands. “I know I lead a privileged life. Privileged enough that I got on a high horse about not touching money that could freaking help people. I was an ass. I blamed it on pride and hurt feelings. Deep down, though? It was a knee-jerk reflex based on insecurity. On my not feeling good enough. Sound familiar?”

  Wow. “Eerily so.”

  “It took having a mirror held up to make me see my reflection—in you, Annabeth.” He dropped a soft kiss on her knuckles. “We’re so similar. And we got frustrated with each other because we didn’t like seeing the same problem we couldn’t even admit having to ourselves.”

  “You’re pretty good at this deep introspection. I can’t take credit for figuring any of this out. Summer helped.”

  Josh threw back his head and unleashed a loud bark of laughter. “Please. I know I’m not dumb, but I’m not this smart. Ry and Knox talked sense into me last night.”

  It tickled her, how similar they truly were. “We have good friends.”

  “Not friends, Annabeth. Family. The family we chose. Because being connected by blood doesn’t guarantee anything. It sure as hell doesn’t guarantee love and understanding.”

  “My brothers love me.” She looked down the length of the reflecting pool to a trio of little kids holding hands. Trust and acceptance came so easy at that age. “But they sure don’t understand.”

  Josh winced. “My parents love me in their own hands-off way. But they one hundred percent do not understand me. They don’t understand my passion for cooking, my need to help those less privileged.”

  He’d hit the nail on the head. Annabeth had battled her way through half a lifetime with her brothers. Surviving the battle wasn’t enough, though. “They don’t see that I’ve grown, changed. That I refuse to accept being held back by where I came from.”

  “That grit right there? That’s one of the things I admire most about you.” Then he tossed off one of those skirt-lifting grins that had been so hard for her to resist over the years of their friendship. “Right above my appreciation for your mile-long legs and just below my adoration of the way you never hold back in a conversation.”