It's All Thanks to Santa

by Kayt Miller

  Oh, shit. The office. I’d better warn Billy. I select his Billy’s number and type:

  Me: Is Gisele at work yet?

  Billy: Haven’t seen her, but she works on another floor. I’ll check.

  Me: No! Don’t make yourself known.

  Billy: I can check without her knowing.

  Me: If you say so.

  Billy: I say so. Speaking of which. What are you wearing?

  Me: Speaking of which? That was so not a good transition. I’m still in my pj’s.

  Billy: You’d better start getting ready. I’m picking you up in four hours.

  Me: How long do you think it takes me to get ready?

  I snort, but he can’t hear me. Thank goodness.

  Billy: In my experience, it takes women hours to prepare for a night out.

  I’d snort again if that last statement hadn’t made me pause.

  Me: I don’t need four hours. An hour and a half is plenty.

  Lies. All lies. I can get ready for anything in thirty minutes or less. But I can’t let him think I’m not all lady-like and shit like his other girlfriends. At least not yet.

  I’m looking around the condo wondering if I should, in fact, start to get ready when the doorbell rings. I pause to weigh my options. I could answer it. But what if it’s his mom or something? An ex? Or worse, my psycho sister? I could send him a text to ask what I should do, but I’m a damn grown-up. But you know what? It doesn’t hurt to ask.

  Me: Does my sister know where you live?

  Billy: Yes. She’s been over a couple of times.

  I tiny flair of jealousy hits me but I let it go fast. I’ve got other things to worry about right now. I stare at the door chewing on my bottom lip as I think. I can figure this out. I’m being ridiculous. He just told me she’s at work. Stepping quietly to the door, I place my hand on it and lift up on my toes to peek out the peephole. When I do, I see it’s a guy about my age. He’s dressed in a shirt, tie, and a nice winter jacket. “Yes?” I say through the door.

  “Josephine?”

  “Yes.”

  “I have a package for you from the pharmacy and lunch.”

  “You do? From whom?

  “Mr. Mathers, miss.”

  “Miss?” I whisper to myself. “Who is Mr. Mathers?”

  “William Mathers, miss?”

  “Billy?”

  “I suppose. Can you please open the door? I need to get back to the office.”

  Oops, he sounds a tad testy. Unlocking the deadbolt, I open the door a crack and hold my hand out. When I feel a bag in my hand, I pull it through the opening. Peeking back out, I smile at him. “You work with Billy?”

  “I’m his admin.”

  “What’s your name?”

  “Dex.”

  “That’s a cool name.” What? It is.

  “Thanks, Josephine.”

  “Call me Jo.”

  “I’d better not. He told me your name was Josephine.”

  I giggle at Dex’s comment. “Have it your way. Thanks for delivering this to me.”

  “Your eye looks bad. You need to get some of those eye drops in there. I’ve had a scratched eye before. It can get infected easily.”

  “Right. Thanks, Dex. See ya.” I shut the door and relock it. My sister is out there somewhere, after all.

  Back at the counter, I quickly send a thank-you text to Billy for getting my prescriptions. “I’ll pay you back.”

  Billy: No problem. Do the drops.

  Me: Yes, sir. Any news about my sister?

  Billy: She’s here and already started telling people that she broke up with me because I cheated on her with you.

  Me: No.

  Billy: Yes.

  Me: But what about your promotion?

  Billy: What will be will be. Which reminds me. There’s a rooftop deck if you feel like getting some air. Stairs are down the hallway from the third bathroom. Make sure you don’t lock yourself on the roof. It’s chilly. Wear a coat.

  Me: A rooftop deck? Wow! I’ll wear a coat, Dad.

  There is a pause before his next message arrives.

  Billy: Please don’t ever call me “dad” again. K?

  Me: LOL. K.

  After our series of texts, I decide to get to know Billy’s place a little better. First stop? The rooftop deck. It’s cold outside, so I only want to take a peek right now. I find the stairway he mentioned and walk up about ten steps to a door that is mostly glass. His rooftop deck doesn’t take up the entire roof, but it’s large enough for a table and chairs on one side, an area with more comfortable lounge-like seats with a firepit, and an outdoor kitchen adjacent to that. There are empty pots around the entire place that I could picture filled with colorful flowers or even some tomato plants in the summer. There’s a wooden arbor, or maybe you’d call it an awning, over the top of the entire space that lets light still shine through the wooden slats, but it would also provide shade. “I can’t wait to spend time out there this spring and summer.”

  Wait a second. Hold the phone. Did I just say that? Do I really expect to be living with Billy in the spring? I give myself a solid eye roll. “You’re ridiculous, Josephine.” Yeah, I’m talking to myself. What did you expect? Someone’s gotta speak the truth. I’ll just have to do it myself.

  With a sigh, I grasp the knob and turn. I’m surprised it opens without unlocking something. Pushing it open, I step up onto the patio level all while holding onto the door. I don’t intend on going any further today. I’ll investigate when it’s not below freezing. Plus, it’s windy up here. I push up onto my toes to get a better view of what lies beyond the deck and think I spy some blue. “Lake Michigan?” I wouldn’t be surprised if he has a lake view. It’s one of the things people like about living out here.

  Back inside, I pick up my phone from the counter and head to my bedroom and flop onto the bed. Pressing a couple of buttons, I wait for Julie’s voice mail to pick up. When it’s actually her answering, I say, “Oh, you answered.”

  “Hey, Joey! Yeah, I stayed home from work. I took the two days off after Christmas. All I’ve been doing is sitting around my house moping. I should have gone to work. At least there I could pretend to do work. Here, I’m just staring at the walls.”

  “I’m sorry, Jules.”

  “I know.” She sighs. “Breakups suck so hard.”

  “I know.”

  There’s silence for a minute or two. “Thanks for not saying the usual drivel like ‘this too shall pass’ or ‘you’re better off without him.’ None of that shit helps. All it does is make me want to punch the person speaking.”

  I laugh. What? It was funny. “Well, lucky for you, I’ve got no room to give advice. All I can say is it sucks and I’m sorry you’re going through it.”

  “Thank you. I knew I could count on you. So, are you in the city?”

  “I am. Want to have a girls’ night tomorrow night?”

  “Yes. But I don’t want to go out. I want to cuddle up under that quilt of yours and watch Disney movies. I also want to drink lots of beer and eat cheese.”

  “Very specific. I think I can oblige. Can that cheese be in the form of a pizza?”

  Julie laughs, and it sounds good. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

  “You’ll have to buy the beer, though. I’m broke.”

  “God, I wish you still worked at the rag.”

  “Me too. I think.”

  “Who’re you staying with? Your demonic sister?”

  That makes me cackle. “No. She tried to kill me.”

  “Again?”

  “It’s just a flesh wound.”

  “Ah, Monty Python! On second thought, let’s watch The Holy Grail tomorrow.”

  “Perfect.”

  “And I want to hear all about your crazy sister.”

  “I think she might be coming for me. I slept with her boyfriend.”

  “What?” she screams so loud I have to pull the phone away from my ear.

  “It was an accident. I didn’t know he
was her boyfriend. It was all fake anyway. For some promotion. She wanted to look like she was in a stable relationship.”

  “Ha! Stable. That’s one thing she’s not.”

  Julie’s right. I could tell her about the destruction of my clothes, but I’ll save it for tomorrow. “I’ve got a great story for you. It’ll cheer you up to hear how fucked up my Christmas was.”

  “Ah, you do know how to make a girl’s day. Be here early so we can get our drink on. We can order pizza and talk. Then, movies.”

  “Gotcha. I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”

  “Missed you, Joey.”

  “Missed you too, Jules.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  “Wow, JoJo. You look amazing.”

  I know I’m blushing, but it can’t be helped. Billy just got home, and when he stepped into the living room, he was holding a huge bouquet of roses in every color possible. “Are those for me?” I point to the flowers.

  “Of course. A man can’t take his girl out for their first date without flowers.” He harrumphs. “I was raised right.”

  That reminds me, I want to hear about his family tonight. I want to learn more about him other than the fact that he’s perfect.

  Before you say it, I know he’s not perfect. Nobody is. But he’s damn close.

  “Is this dress okay?” I look down at myself. I’m wearing a deep green wrap dress that used to belong to my college roommate. When she saw me in it, she said it was made for me. I’ve worn it a dozen times but never for anything as important as tonight.

  “Your hair down with all your wild red curls next to that deep green dress is stunning.” Setting the flowers down on the kitchen island, he walks to me slowly. When he stops in front of me, he touches my cheek, the one with scratches that I attempted to cover with makeup. Then he gently touches a few of my curls, tugging on one or two until they bounce right back. “Absolutely gorgeous.”

  I watch him lean down for a kiss, and I meet him halfway. It’s another soft, chaste kiss. That’s all he’s done the last couple of days, and I’m okay with that, for now.

  “You ready?”

  “Let me grab my wrap.”

  “No coat?”

  “Only an old one. The wrap will suffice.”

  “We’ll get you a coat this weekend too. Something in that same green color, perhaps.”

  “Please don’t buy me stuff. I’ll never be able to pay you back.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “I know you don’t. I’ll go to a couple of my favorite thrift shops tomorrow. I’ll find something nice.”

  He gives me a look with one arched brow.

  “I’ll even find a green one.”

  “We’ll see,” he says, reaching for my hand. “In the meantime, we’ll do valet, so you won’t be out in the elements. I won’t have you getting chilled.”

  I should roll my eyes. I really should. They’re right there, but he’s too damn sweet. I just can’t. “Fine,” I say with a fake huff. “Where are you taking me?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “What if it’s something I don’t like?” Ha! That’s a laugh. I like everything. Except liver. And a couple other things, but that’s it.

  “Oh.” He stops in his tracks. “I should have asked. Do you like Italian food?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mexican?”

  “Of course.”

  “I know you like Thai. What about Indian?”

  “I’ve never had Indian food.”

  He doesn’t say a word, but he does smile down at me. “You’ll have to wait and see. Wherever we go, there will be something you’ll like. I promise.” He tugs on my hand, leading me to the door.

  “I like you,” I say without thinking it through.

  He stops suddenly, turning back to face me. “And I like you. More than you’ll ever know.”

  “Why won’t I ever know?”

  He chuckles. “Oh, you’ll know. Maybe later, after we get home.”

  I snicker. “Pervert.”

  A laugh escapes him that’s so loud, it echoes throughout his place. “I think I am kind of a pervert, for you.”

  “Ah, how sweet.”

  Billy takes my hand in his and pauses at the fingerprint scanner outside his door. “Here. Let’s do this right now before I forget.” He presses some buttons then lifts my hand until my thumb is directly over the scanner. When it beeps, he releases my hand while he taps on the buttons a few more times. “There. You’re all set up. Why don’t you give it a try?”

  We practice several times, each time the door unlatches for me. “That’s so cool. Full disclosure. I’m always losing keys.”

  “Since you can’t lose your thumb…”

  “Well, you can, but not like you can your keys,” I say with a laugh. I take his hand in mine this time and walk to the elevator. It’s funny how well our hands fit together. His hands are big, and mine are extra small, but for some reason, we fit perfectly.

  In the garage, I head straight to the car that we drove back from my parents’ house, but he tugs me to the Range Rover I drooled over yesterday. “No way. This is your car too?”

  “It is. This one is my baby.”

  Baby? Why am I suddenly jealous of a car? “I can see that. The color is beautiful.”

  “It is,” he says, running his hand over the deep red exterior.

  “Stop fondling your car and unlock the doors. I’m cold.”

  “Oh, sorry, babe.” He touches the door handle, and I hear the locks click.

  “Wait. Are you talking to me or your car?”

  “You.” He rolls his pretty blue eyes.

  “Well, you did just say your car was your baby.” I shrug.

  “I stand corrected. You’re my baby, JoJo. The car is just a car.”

  “Better,” I say, sliding onto some very nice leather seats. The interior is all black and sleek. After he starts it up, the entire dash comes to life. There are screens and lights and buttons all over the place. It looks like it was designed by NASA. Heck, it probably was. I bet this thing cost a pretty penny, but I’m not going to ask, and I’m definitely not going to look it up. It’s best if I don’t know.

  We hold hands the entire ride to the restaurant. Pulling up to the valet stand, I stare at the sign above the door. “Everest?” I’ve never heard of it, but it’s not surprising. It’s located in the financial district here in Chicago. It’s a neighborhood I know nothing about except that Gisele and Billy work in a building close by. It must be how Billy knows about this place.

  “It’s French cuisine.”

  “Oh. That sounds fun.” And it does. I’ve never had real French food before.

  Inside, Billy mentions his name and we’re taken to our table immediately, even though the place is packed. The wait must be long here. “Here you are, mademoiselle, monsieur.”

  “Thanks,” I say, sitting in my seat. The host helps push my chair in, and I wait for Billy to get comfortable. Leaning toward him, I whisper. “This place is nice.”

  “The food is amazing, but save room for dessert. It’s what they’re known for.”

  “Always,” I say quietly. I’m a firm believer in dessert. Heck, I’d eat dessert for dinner if given the chance.

  Thankfully, the menu is in both French and English. “Wow, this all looks amazing.” Looking up at him, I ask, “What do you recommend?”

  “Well, I’ve been here twice, and both times I’ve gotten the New York steak.”

  I laugh because that’s probably the first time Billy sounded like every other guy I’ve ever known. Give them beef or give them death.

  “You’re laughing at me?” he says, looking a little put off.

  “No.” I lean in and pat the hand he’s got on the table. “I like that you choose steak.” I’ll explain it to him later. “Are you going to try something else tonight?”

  “I guess I’d better mix it up or you’ll laugh at me.”

  “No, I won’t. I think I’ll get the st
eak, actually.”

  “Ha!” he says, holding up one finger. Then he blushes, and I fall in love with the man. Bam, just like that. “I don’t know why I said ‘Ha!’ just then.”

  I giggle because he’s funny. And sweet. And adorable. “What if I got the steak and you got something else, and I’ll share mine with you if you give me a bite of yours?”

  “Okay. I like the way you think, JoJo.”

  That’s what we do. For my salad course, I order the one with Maine lobster and bacon. Yum! He orders risotto with truffles. For the main course, I do the steak as promised; he gets wild sea bass. When it arrives, I gasp at the beauty. The way the chef placed each item on our plates is something to behold. It’s art. I’m tempted to take my phone out to take pictures. Whispering, I ask Billy, “Do you mind if I take a few pictures of our food? It’s so pretty. I’ll put them in Instagram.”

  “No. Go ahead. Send them to me too.”

  I slide my phone out of my purse and discreetly snap a photo of my plate as Billy lifts his just enough for me to get a shot of his as well. I send a copy of each to his phone and post mine on social media, adding the name of the restaurant to the images. These plates are so pretty they’re definitely worth sharing. Sliding my phone back into my purse, I take my first bite of Maine lobster. “Mmm,” I moan. “So good.”

  Billy is watching me closely. He’s smiling, sort of, but mostly he looks turned on. “Did you try the risotto?”

  “Oh, right.” Picking up his fork, he takes a bite and moans too.

  Now I know why he was staring. I like his moans. I want to make him moan, and maybe I will later.

  After that course is done, we have to wait a bit for the entrée. Billy ordered us a bottle of white wine that tastes so good, it could be my drink of choice. I’m afraid to ask how much it is, though. I’d best stick to Miller High Life. It’s the champagne of beers, after all.

  “So, how’d I do?”

  “Do?” I ask, looking confused.

  “How’s our first date going?” Oh, my goodness. He looks a little nervous asking that question.