Billionaire's Holiday (An Alpha Billionaire Christmas Romance Love Story) (Billionaires - Book #17)

by Claire Adams

“Tonight, I wanted to talk about a phone call I had with my daughter. It went really poorly. That’s putting it lightly. Actually, she cried and screamed and told me I was a horrible father to her during her entire life.”

  Stan looked down for a moment to compose himself. I hadn’t seen much emotion at all from the man since I had been on the unit with him. He normally kept pretty much to himself and didn’t interact much more than the usual pleasantries. I felt bad that his daughter would say such horrible things to her own father.

  “You know the part about the call that hurt me the most though?” Stan asked as he looked back up at the group. “She was right. Every single word she said was exactly right. When she was young, I was on tour. I barely stopped back at home. My wife, well my ex-wife, finally got sick of it and left me.

  “But she was damn good to me. Anytime I was in town, my ex offered to let me have Rosie. She would even bring Rosie to my tour bus when I was close to town. But I couldn’t be bothered by a little girl. I was rotten.”

  “You’re a good man, Stan,” Kimber yelled out. “We know you mean well.”

  “Thanks, Kimber, but is meaning well and doing well actually the same thing? I’ve been off the road for five years now. I drink more than I eat. I never go to my daughter’s house and visit with her. I’m a grandfather, you know. But I wouldn’t trust myself around little children. I’m useless, and I don’t want to be like that.

  “I want to be the kind of grandpa that the kids beg to come see. I want to offer to watch her children for a weekend and let her and her husband have some time together. I’m not here just for me this time. I’m going to get sober because I want to be remembered for doing something better than playing the damn drums.” Stan was starting to tear up. “Well, I guess that’s all I had to say. Thanks for listening.”

  “Thanks for sharing, Stan,” Jarrod said as he stood up and patted Stan on the back.

  I was moved by Stan’s story. He seemed to really care about his daughter now, and I couldn’t help but hope they would work things out. I had noticed that everyone was really supportive in all of my group sessions. It was a new thing for me, and I wasn’t sure how I felt about it just yet, but I could see how that support was helping others.

  “Does anyone else have anything to share?” Jarrod asked the group.

  “My last boyfriend hit me. I don’t care that my current boyfriend doesn’t have a job and is old. I feel safe with him,” Kimber said as she stood up.

  Everyone froze and looked at her in shock as they waited for her to elaborate or ask a question. But she didn’t say anything else and just sat back down.

  “Thanks for sharing, Kimber.”

  I saw Jarrod look toward me, and I avoided his gaze almost instantly. I didn’t have a thing to share at all. I wasn’t going to spill my personal business there in a group with a bunch of addicts. Sure, I had attended the other groups throughout the day, but they had asked questions about sobriety, support systems, and making plans for the future. We hadn’t shared our fears or hopes and certainly nothing as personal as what Stan and Kimber had shared.

  A few other people shared their stories as I sat quietly and listened. It was brave of them to reach out to others, but I didn’t need that in my life. I was simply at the rehab facility so I could relax and refocus before going into the movie business. I didn’t need all the sharing and mumbo jumbo. I knew myself and I knew how to move forward.

  Drugs and alcohol had been fun, but I could give them up. Hell, I had even gone through some bad withdrawals when I arrived, so surely I wasn’t going to start back up with that stuff when I got home. I was pretty positive that I wasn’t going to have any trouble staying sober when I finally left the facility.

  As the meeting ended, I snuck out the back and tried to make it back to my room before Jarrod saw me. I knew he was going to want to ask me how I liked the meeting and I didn’t want to have to lie to him. It was uncomfortable. The truth about the AA meeting was that everything in there made me uncomfortable.

  I didn’t like the way everyone answered things in unison; it felt like some sort of cult. I didn’t like what I felt was over-sharing when people stood up and talked about their personal life. AA meetings seemed even more intimate than regular group sessions.

  The only thing I could say that I liked about the AA meeting was that there was a lot less God and preaching in it than I had expected. The other observation I had was that the meetings seemed to be helpful to others.

  “You look like you’ve had a good day,” Kaitlin said from the nurses’ station as she buzzed me back onto the unit.

  “It was better than I expected.”

  “A couple more days of this and you’ll be in a room with a door,” she said dramatically.

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Yeah, it’s always nice to have a little privacy. If you want some snacks, there’s fruit out there. Otherwise, nothing much going on this evening. I’ll just be over here trying to stay awake.”

  “Yeah, why are you working so late tonight?” I asked as I tried to hold a normal conversation.

  It was surprisingly hard for me to have a decent conversation while at Paradise Peak. I was out of my element, and everything I said seemed to sound ridiculously nerdy to me. There certainly wasn’t a way to act cool when you were in a rehab center. It was also hard for me to talk to people I didn’t know without alcohol in my system, that was something I had to get used to again.

  “Susan’s brother died,” Kaitlin said. “Really sad. I guess it was sudden and unexpected.”

  “That is sad. I’m sorry.”

  “We all die eventually. Make sure you’re keeping in touch with your loved ones. Sooner or later, they will be gone. You don’t want to have any remorse about that.”

  “Very true,” I said and quickly made my way back to my room.

  Her words had hit me when I was vulnerable. I had just spent the entire day in and out of groups and therapy. My emotions were raw. I couldn’t help but think about what I would feel if I lost my brother or my father. We fought and were angry with each other, but I would be sad if they died. I would be crushed if I never had the opportunity to see them again. I wasn’t sure they would feel as bad if I died, but I knew in that moment that I was going to have to reach out to them, even if it was only for my own personal wellbeing.

  Chapter Nine

  Cassidy

  I did everything in my power to avoid Erik for the rest of the day after our incident in the craft closet. His touch had felt like velvet on my skin. My hips had thrust toward him in an instinctual urge to have him pull me closer. It had been a very long time since I had felt such physical attraction, and I certainly couldn’t remember a man coming straight out and telling me I was beautiful.

  But it was all for nothing. I wasn’t going to let things go any further than they already had. I was happy he wasn’t angry with me and really proud that he was up and participating in programming again, but that was it. Nothing more.

  Nothing about the moment was right, at least it wasn’t right for a treatment facility. I wasn’t even sure I liked the guy as a human being yet; he was really an ass at times. But there was no denying that the sexual chemistry between the two of us was off the charts. Simply having his hand on me literally made my knees go weak.

  I could fantasize a little about him, no harm could come from that. But nothing more than fantasies would ever happen between us. I would make sure of that. Or at least, I would try my hardest. But as I left work and headed home, my mind was swirling with the idea of what kind of lover he was. I imagined his lips against mine and how that would make me feel. I couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  By the time I got home, all I could think about was Erik. I thought about his smile, the way he had called me beautiful, and I tried to analyze everything he said and did to see what it was he was trying to get from me.

  That’s what addicts did: they used their charms to get what they wanted. I knew addicts well. I had bee
n one, after all. I wanted to believe Erik was playing some sort of game with me, but I couldn’t come up with anything I could offer the man that would be reason enough for him to give me such a compliment.

  I wasn’t in charge of anything at the treatment facility. In fact, I was lower on the totem pole than even the janitor was; at least the janitor had keys to every room. I had to get buzzed on and off the secured unit. To be honest, Erik probably had a better chance of getting what he wanted without even talking to me. He was paying cash for his stay, which was a valuable commodity in our industry.

  Could it be possible that he actually thinks I am beautiful? I wondered. I didn’t see how a guy like him would even see beauty in a girl like me. I was rough around the edges, nothing polished or fake on me. My boobs were decent sized, but not fake and large like the women in California. I had a slim waist, but my ass was voluptuous, there was no denying it, and I couldn’t hide, especially because I loathed working out so much. I stood in front of my mirror and looked at myself. I wasn’t hideous, but I wasn’t a model, either. I suspected a guy like Erik was used to dating models and celebrities.

  “Cassidy, dinner is ready,” my mother hollered from the stairs.

  I liked living at home. I knew to some people it seemed like I had failed because I was back at home with my parents, but for me, it was right. I needed their love around me as I recovered and got myself back on track. I certainly hadn’t expected to stay at home for as long as I had, but until something better came up, I was perfectly happy right where I was.

  My parents were good to me, and I couldn’t imagine that I would be leaving their house anytime soon. Probably not until I found a college to go to – if a college actually took me into one of their programs.

  “There’s my girl,” my father said as I sat down at the table. “How was your work at that place today? Are you ready to throw in the towel and come work the slopes? Christmas season sure is a busy one this year.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot to tell you guys, I hiked up the ridge with some patients the other day. It was so beautiful up there. That path sure did look good, Dad. I know you worked really hard on it.”

  “You hiked?” my mother asked.

  The look on her face made it seem like I never did anything physical at all. Sure, I only liked to walk on the treadmill at the gym – and I hardly ever actually got to the gym. But I wasn’t disabled; I did have the ability to walk. She didn’t have to look at me like I had suddenly turned green or something.

  “Yes, Mom. I actually moved my legs and walked,” I teased her.

  “Thanks for telling me, honey. I wasn’t sure anyone was going to use the trail in the winter. But I decided to scoop the snow out of the way anyways, just in case.”

  “It was perfect, Dad. The path was all clear and because we had a few warm days, even the residual snow had melted off the trail. It was a beautiful hike.”

  “Are you going to turn into one of those fitness junkies who eat kale and works out all the time?” Mom asked.

  “I don’t think so, but would that be all that horrible? At least I’d be healthy for a change.”

  I knew my mother and father were just worried about me. I had spent so many years lying to them about where I was going and what I was doing that it was hard for them to transition into actually trusting me. I didn’t blame them, though. I had set up our relationship with a lack of trust and it was my responsibility to earn it back.

  “So, what’s new at work, dear?” my mom asked as we ate.

  “There’s a patient who I think I helped today,” I said.

  “Well, that’s good. Tell me about it.”

  I loved that my parents seemed genuinely interested in what I did with my day. My father certainly didn’t want me to keep working at the rehab facility, but even he could put on a supportive face while we had dinner together as a family.

  Sometimes, it really baffled me as to why I had thought my life was so horrible when I started drinking and partying all the time. I could still remember telling friends that my parents were the equivalent to Nazi guards. The memory made me cringe as it passed through my head. My parents had only been worried about me and wanted the best for me. They had put a curfew on me if I was to stay in their home and I had called them Nazis. It wasn’t the proudest moment in my life, that was for sure.

  “He wasn’t coming to groups or doing pretty much anything at all. I think he was depressed. But today I got him to come to a group and he even made a collage for his mother who passed away. I think it was a lot of progress for him.”

  “You are such a sweet girl, honey,” my mother said.

  “I hope those people appreciate all that you do for them,” my father replied grumpily.

  “Dad, I get paid to work there; isn’t that enough?”

  “People should show appreciation for others, though. They better be nice to you or they’ll have your angry papa bear hunting them down.”

  My father had a dry sense of humor, but my mother and I appreciated it. Sometimes, other people thought he was being serious, though, and that was embarrassing. I hated when he would make a joke and someone would just stare blankly at him, but my mother seemed to be used to it and didn’t even tell people when he was joking.

  I decided not to mention the part of my story where I yelled at the patient and berated him before he decided to show up to group. Or the part where I lied to him and said I was leading the group when I was really just sitting at a table in the back.

  I also left out the part of the story where the incredibly handsome patient told me I was beautiful and leaned in so close to me that I thought he was actually going to kiss me. My parents didn’t need to know those parts of the story.

  When I finally got to bed that night, it felt like I had only just closed my eyes when my alarm went off. I had to work early that morning because the other tech was going to a doctor’s appointment, or dentist, or something; I wasn’t sure and I couldn’t keep all of his stories straight.

  “Good morning,” I said to Kaitlin when I arrived.

  I had totally forgotten that she was working the overnight shift. It was always more fun to get the shift notes from Kaitlin than any of the other nurses. She told me the truth about how people were doing and didn’t sugarcoat it like Susan did.

  “I’m so tired. I think I might just fall asleep right...” Her head fell into her hands and she dramatically snored like she was sleeping.

  “Did you have a good night? Other than the being exhausted part?”

  “Yeah, it’s actually much more fun to work overnight. Everyone is sleeping. I could deal with so many more people if they would just stay sleeping while I worked,”

  “Me, too!”

  “Okay, well, we have new girl in room two. She’s puking all over the place. I finally just brought her a bucket because I was tired of cleaning up the floor when she couldn’t make it to her room. I have the doctor coming to see her in an hour because she really didn’t look well. She’ll need a little loving and attention today. Her husband dropped her off and said he would leave her if she didn’t complete the program. She’s been alternating between tears and vomit all night long.”

  “Drug of choice?”

  “Alcohol,” Kaitlin said, and we both dramatically made a face.

  There were a lot of harsh drugs that people came into our facility addicted to, but alcohol was one of the scariest. It embedded itself into the cells of the user and the withdrawal could actually kill a person. Luckily, we hadn’t had anyone who had gone through such bad withdrawals that they had died, but we had needed to send people to the emergency room before.

  “I’ll keep my eye on her,” I promised.

  The nurse for the morning walked in and Kaitlin went to give her report on the patients. I stood at the nursing station and looked out over the unit. It certainly was calmer in the early morning hours. Maybe I should give overnights a try sometime.

  As the sun finally started to come up, the unit got bus
ier and busier. I ended up in Brianna’s room for most of the morning. She was sick, really sick. I felt so bad for her as she continued to vomit time and time again. The doctor ended up running late and said he wouldn’t be there until around noon.

  I gathered cool compresses, helped her take a shower, even sat with her curled up in bed and read to her in an effort to get her mind off of things. Alcohol withdrawals could be really bad, and I had a hard time watching others go through them.

  “Tell me about your family,” I said as we sat on her bed.

  “My husband, Greg, is so kind. I know it doesn’t seem like it because he left me here. But he loves me. We met in high school and had our three babies one after another. His father owns one of the ski resorts in town,” she said as she paused to sip her Gatorade.

  “Oh, my parents manage a resort in town,” I added as we talked.

  She didn’t really have the energy to respond to my input, but she did continue to tell me about her kids. Brianna wasn’t looking good at all, and as soon as I got her to fall asleep again, I was going to page Mr. March so he could put some pressure on the doctor. I really thought the doctor needed to come see her.

  “Aubrey is my oldest; she’s five years old and loves to dance. Adrian is my middle child and horses are her favorite. Anna is my two-year-old and she’s really into princess…”

  Suddenly, Brianna started to shake and her muscles tightened. She was having a seizure. I had been trained to handle these, and luckily, I remembered exactly what to do and I started to get her secured while I yelled for help.

  “Help!” I screamed as I gently helped her down to the ground and rolled her onto her side. “Help!”

  Erik was the first one into the room, and he grabbed her toothbrush and put it between her teeth as she continued to seize. I knew not to get in her way, but only make sure she was safe and wouldn’t hit any furniture, so I kept my hands in front of the bedpost and sat near her until her body stopped convulsing.

  “How do I call an ambulance?” Erik asked. “Do I have to dial a number to get out?”