More people were looking now, and Christian gently took her arm, steering her back through the staff door. As soon as it closed behind them she pulled away, covering her face.
“I’m horrible,” she said. “That was such a cruel thing to say and I don’t even know why I said it.”
The last of his anger faded. She looked utterly broken, and all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and hold her tight. The corridor was busy, though, staff members laughing behind their hands as Merry continued to cry.
“I don’t even think it,” she went on. “I don’t care what you do. I don’t know why those horrid words came out of my mouth.”
“Come with me,” Christian said. He took her elbow and steered her gently to the end of the corridor, heading for the old freight elevator. A few minutes later they were rumbling upward in the ancient machine, but Merry still hid her face behind her hands.
“I’m so sorry,” she kept saying. “I’m so sorry.”
The elevator stopped at the tenth floor, and Christian walked out into the staff corridor.
“Come on,” he said.
“Where are we going?” asked Merry.
“A place we can talk,” he said. “Take my hand.”
She looked at his outstretched hand, another few sobs escaping her mouth, then she took it. He walked to the end of the corridor and opened the access door to the stairwell. One flight of steps led down, but another continued upward—sealed off with a chain. Not many people knew where they led, but when he was a kid Christian had always snuck up these steps, especially after an argument with his dad. He lifted the chain and gestured for Merry to duck under it.
“Are we allowed?” she said, wiping her red eyes with her hand.
“Of course,” he replied. “I’m a janitor, I can go anywhere.”
The mention of the J-word looked as if it was going to make her cry again, but she crouched beneath the chain and held it up for him to do the same. He led her up four more sets of stairs until they reached a door marked: Roof. Beside it was a metal locker, and Christian opened it. To his amazement, it was still stocked with blankets—probably the same ones that his mom had stashed here decades ago. He reached in and pulled one out, the smell of the fabric bringing back a wave of memories—his mom carrying him up the steps in her arms, wrapping him tight, carrying him out onto the roof so that they could sunbathe or have picnics or watch the city below, then the first time he’d come up here after she’d gone, sobbing into the musty cloth and wishing it was her. The feeling of loss took him by surprise, and he had to pause to steady himself.
“Are you okay?” Merry asked, placing a hand tentatively on his arm.
“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Just all those steps. I’m not as fit as I look.”
“I don’t believe that for a moment,” she said. “What are we doing here?”
Christian flapped out one of the blankets and wrapped it around her shoulders.
“You’ll need this,” he said.
He turned to the keypad on the door. Amy had changed the one that led to the offices, but would she have changed this one too? He typed in his date of birth, and to his relief the light changed to green and the lock snapped open.
“Get ready to run,” he said.
“What?” Merry asked.
But he didn’t stop to explain. He just opened the door, grabbed Merry’s hand, and darted outside.
13
Merry felt as though she was on a roller coaster ride, one that had left her breathless.
Christian pulled her hand tenderly and she followed him through the door, the sudden cold making her gasp. She clutched the blanket around her neck and pushed into the freezing day, rain and sleet whipping around her and making her skin feel numb. It was only lunchtime, but the sky was dark and oppressive, the clouds low over the city. The roof was crammed full of air conditioning units and lift mechanisms, and she had absolutely no idea why Christian had brought her up here, especially after what he had heard her say. Unless that was his plan, of course, to leave her up here in the cold and the wet!
She wouldn’t blame him if he did.
Another wave of guilt and sadness passed over her as they ran, heading for the edge of the building. How could she have said those things? It was so unlike her, it was so false, but the words had spilled out of her mouth and he had heard them. It made her feel so ashamed, it made her feel like curling up into a tiny ball and never speaking to anyone again for the rest of her life.
Christian led the way past a large, rusting water tank and Merry spotted a strange building ahead. It looked almost like a conservatory, or an old orangery. It was almost entirely made of glass, its ornate cast iron supports painted white and its high ceiling domed. Inside was a forest of green, a hundred different plants pushing against the windows.
“What is this place?” Merry asked. Christian grinned at her.
“I found it the other day,” he said. “I was cleaning the roof and there it was. Come on.”
He led her to the door, opening it for her. Despite the cold of the day, and the roaring wind, the conservatory was surprisingly warm. Merry walked inside, surprised at how big it was, and how well looked after. Three of the four walls were almost entirely covered with potted plants, making the space feel like a jungle. She was studying it so intently that she didn’t even notice the fourth wall until Christian pointed to it.
“How’s that for a view?” he said.
The conservatory sat right at the northwest corner of the roof, and through the glass Merry could see 5th Avenue before her—almost as far as the park. Cars busied themselves on the road, their horns soft and muted, and tiny people crowded the street. The world down there was alive with lights, the store fronts glowing with illuminated snowflakes, fountains of color pouring down from the rooftops, one store wrapped in a Santa’s belt of snowy bulbs and a giant snowman dancing on another. They lit up the dull afternoon, and despite everything that had just happened a huge smile appeared on Merry’s face.
“It’s… it’s beautiful,” she whispered, her breath steaming up the glass. “I never knew this place existed. Thank you.”
“Can we talk?” Christian asked. She didn’t want to look at him, because her shame was still so great. But after a moment she turned. He was standing by an ancient leather sofa, a matching easy chair to the side of it, and she sat down in the chair. It was incredibly comfortable, molding itself to her body, and she laid the blanket over her legs. Christian sat on the sofa, leaning forward and massaging his stubble with one hand. He looked like he was trying to figure out what to say, and she leapt in before he could start.
“I mean it,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I’ve never been more sorry for anything in my life. Those words weren’t mine. I mean, they were, but I didn’t mean them. I don’t understand why I did it. I’m sorry you had to hear it.”
Christian looked at her with those warm, chestnut brown eyes. Merry shook her head.
“No, I’m not sorry you had to hear it,” she said. “I’m sorry I said it. I’d feel terrible even if you hadn’t heard me. I’d still feel like the worst person in the world.”
“I get it,” said Christian, but she held up a hand and he let her go on.
“There’s no excuse for what I said,” Merry said. The cold was creeping into the conservatory and she pulled the blanket up with shaking fingers. “But let me try to explain why I said it. We were poor growing up. I mean, really poor. My mom was never well—she still isn’t—and my pop spent so much time looking after her that he lost his job. He still worked, but only odd jobs, mainly gardening stuff. I didn’t care, because I always thought he was doing the right thing, the noble thing, the kind thing. Mom needed him, and he was always there for her. What he couldn’t give us all in money, he gave us both in love.”
She sighed, suddenly feeling like she was a million miles away from her parents, and not just a few states over. Christian watched her, his expression not giving anything away.
&n
bsp; “I struggled with it at school, though,” she went on, hesitantly. “I never had the things the other girls had, and they would always make fun of me. They’d tease me for my patched-up clothes and my shoes with cardboard soles—yeah, it was really that bad sometimes. And they’d make fun of pop because they’d see him mowing lawns and fixing up fences.”
She covered her face with her hand, a memory rearing its ugly head and making her feel doubly ashamed.
“I remember once he was working on the school grounds and they started shouting insults about my dad in the cafeteria, calling him all sorts of names. I should have defended him, I should have fought them, but I just disowned him. I said that wasn’t my dad, that they had it all wrong. I said he was our employee, and that my dad wasn’t a… that he wasn’t a useless old gardener. I felt so awful about it for days, weeks. I never really forgave myself. And today… I don’t know, those same ugly emotions reared their heads and I don’t even know why. I don’t want a rich boyfriend, I don’t want somebody who drives a Porsche and buys ten-thousand-dollar necklaces. I just…”
She glanced at Christian, and the words escaped her before she could stop them.
“I just want you.”
Christian didn’t react, and Merry prepared to run back the way they’d come. Why had she told him all that? She just couldn’t help herself, she always talked too much and she always scared men away.
A moment later, though, Christian smiled gently.
“You’re cold,” he said. “Do you want to sit next to me?”
Merry nodded, pushing herself up and sitting on the sofa. Christian took his blanket and shook it out so that it covered their legs, then he lifted his arm and she snuggled beneath it like they’d done this a million times. He held her tight, and she couldn’t help herself. The sobs started again, quieter this time but just as powerful. Had he forgiven her? Could he ever forgive her? She shivered against him, crying gently, and he just pulled her close with his strong arms, holding her against his chest until, finally, the tears dried up.
“I’m not angry,” he said quietly. “I was, but I’m not now. I know you’re not cruel, Merry. Or superficial. I know you’re kind, and decent. I’m sorry you had such a tough time of it growing up, but your father sounds like an amazing man, and you’re so right, kindness and love are a much more valuable currency. The richest man is a pauper if he doesn’t have love.”
Merry wrapped her arm around his stomach, feeling the ridges of his abdominal muscles beneath his overalls. He breathed in and out, in and out, the steady motion of it wonderfully soothing. She could fall asleep right here, she thought, and never wake up.
“Everyone you meet is a wrapped present,” he went on. “They choose what to show you, but there is so much more underneath. Everyone has a depth inside them, a goodness. And sometimes…” He hesitated, as if he was weighing something up. “Sometimes people have hidden truths, sometimes what lies inside the present isn’t what you think it’s going to be.”
“That’s so true,” she said, breathing the words into him. “And I know it, I’ve always known it. Please forgive me, Christian.”
“I forgive you,” he said. “Of course I do.”
She sat up, moving her hand to his chest and looking him in the eye. They might have been in the middle of New York, on the roof of one of the world’s busiest department stores, but the wall of foliage around them made Merry feel like she was sitting in a quiet woodland glade. There might not have been a soul around for a hundred miles. She moved her hand up again, cupping Christian’s cheek. He put his hand on top of hers, his palm reassuringly rough, his touch firm. Once again that flow of electricity seemed to pulse through them, making her whole body tingle.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
She kissed him, her lips lingering on his for the briefest of moments. He tasted of chocolate and spice, and he pressed his lips to hers as if he’d wanted to do it his whole life. She pulled away, her hand still on his cheek, her heart singing like a choir. She was grinning so hard her face hurt, and so was he.
“Wow,” he said, his voice so quiet she could barely hear it. “It really is Christmas.”
She laughed, and they were moving toward each other again, lips parted for another kiss, when they heard the crunch of footsteps from outside. Christian shot up, peering through the plants then looking at Merry with an expression of alarm.
“Quick!” he said.
Merry climbed out of the sofa and glanced through the wall of foliage.
“No way,” she said, unable to believe her eyes as Mrs. Cradley strode toward the conservatory. “She must have a sixth sense.”
“Or some kind of fun destroying radar,” said Christian with a grin. “Come on.”
She took his hand and they snuck out through the conservatory door, running for a large vent. They hid behind it, watching as Mrs. Cradley walked into the conservatory and closed the door behind her. By this time they were both laughing, a fit of giggles that had Merry in hysterics, her sides practically splitting. Together they ran the long way around the roof, making their way back to the door and tumbling inside.
“I don’t want to go back to work,” Merry said, taking Christian’s hands in hers. His were surprisingly warm and she held them to her face to heat up her frozen cheeks. “I just want to spend the whole day with you.”
“Me too,” he said. “But I’m too scared of the dragon lady. Meet me after work? Six?”
“Sure,” she said, nodding eagerly. “I’d love to.”
They parted, Christian heading down the stairs first. Merry called to him as he went.
“Just do me one favor,” she said.
“Anything?” he replied. She smiled.
“Wait for me inside this time.”
14
For the rest of the afternoon, Merry couldn’t focus on a single thing. Somehow, she managed to work her station at the jewelry counter, fielding endless requests for help and trying to ignore the numerous complaints from people who had been waiting in line. She lost count of the number of times she gave excuses to people, but even though her words might not always have been sincere, her smile was utterly genuine—in fact, it wouldn’t leave her face.
She was still stunned at what had happened. One moment she’d assumed that any hope she had of being with Christian was dashed to pieces, and the next she was sitting in a fairy tale glass house, her lips against his. She’d kissed him! She still couldn’t believe she’d done it. It had seemed so natural, so inevitable, as if there was nothing in the world she could have done to avoid it. And she could still taste him on her lips, warm and sweet and chocolatey.
“Hello?” said the man waiting in front of her. She snapped her attention back to him.
“Oh, sorry, here’s your change,” she said, handing him some coins. “Merry Christmas!”
“Sure,” the guy grumbled. “It will be next Christmas by the time I get outta here.”
Merry smiled at him, thinking of Christian. She checked her watch, seeing that she only had five minutes left of her shift. There was still a line of people waiting, and nobody to cover her yet, but she had decided she was going to leave on time even if it meant running away from a customer mid-conversation. Nothing was going to keep her from the wonderful man who had not only bought her flowers and kissed her, but who had forgiven her for something that should have been truly unforgiveable.
She took her time with the next customer—a little old lady who was buying a watch for her grandson’s graduation—and by the time she’d rung it through the till it was one-minute past six. Merry muttered an apology to the next person waiting and hotfooted it away from her sales desk. She’d only made it halfway across the store floor, though, before she heard an unwelcome voice shouting her name.
Just ignore it, just ignore it, she commanded herself, but Mrs. Cradley called out again and Merry grumbled to a halt, turning around with a sigh. Right now, the dragon lady was the last person she wanted to see.
Or at least that’s what she thought, until she spotted the man standing at Mrs. Cradley’s side. Adrian flashed her a smug grin, and she knew exactly what was about to happen. She grit her teeth, her hands balled into fists as Mrs. Cradley beckoned her over.
“Miss Sinclair,” said the dragon lady. “This man has returned after the insulting debacle yesterday, and he has demanded an apology.”
Adrian’s smile seemed to stretch even further. He folded his arms over his chest and regarded Merry like she was an insect that had scuttled out from beneath the fridge. Merry thought she could hear the whistle of her blood boiling in her ears, but she forced herself to smile politely.
“I don’t think it’s me who needs to apologize,” she said, trying to keep her tone civil. “I didn’t do anything.”
She wished she had, though. She wished she’d picked up Christian’s bucket and tipped it over Adrian’s head.
“What you think is none of my concern,” said Mrs. Cradley. “Apologize, now, or clean out your locker for good.”
Merry resisted for a moment more, but she needed this job. She was behind enough with her bills as it was, and she’d never get through Christmas without a paycheck. Swallowing noisily, Merry met Adrian’s eyes.
“I’m sorry,” she said. Sorry that you’re an idiot, she added in her head. Sorry I wasted so much time trying to impress you.
“Sorry for what?” Adrian asked.
“I’m sorry you got in the way of the janitor when he was mopping up,” Merry said, not looking away. “Sorry you got dirty water on your shoes.”
“And?” said Mrs. Cradley.
“And I’m sorry you were made to feel unwelcome,” she said, guessing what the old lady wanted her to say. Mrs. Cradley nodded in approval, looking up at Adrian.
“Is there anything else?” she asked.
“Yes,” Adrian said. “I want her to finish what she started. I want her to find me a ring.”
Merry checked her watch.
“But I—” she started, only to be interrupted by Mrs. Cradley.
My Christmas Billionaire Page 10