Unforgettable Christmas - Gifts of Love (The Unforgettables Book 3)

by Mimi Barbour

  “Crysta doesn’t need me for health insurance.” He lifted one finger, then another. “She doesn’t need me for money. She owns her own condo, even if it is small, it has a view of the beach. Her own car.” Two more fingers. “The doctor picked out—and now we know we’re having a healthy baby boy!” He smacked the steering wheel again for good measure. Deflating he said, “She doesn’t need me for shit.”

  “Nope. She already got what she needed from you. And not to get too personal, dude, but how did you get passed all that? I wouldn’t blame you for being pissed.”

  Dillon swallowed down the hurt. “She was protecting me, she said, from not being forced into parenthood.”

  “Yeah, that’s what Lara explained to me too. That Crysta really didn’t want to mess you up—at first I was mad, but the more time I had to think about it, considering your mom, well, I get it.”

  “It was actually very cool,” Dillon admitted. He’d never had someone care so much about him to make that kind of a sacrifice. “It blows me away.”

  “So, what are you going do about it?”

  “Take it slow, I guess. Flights from Jacksonville to Ft. Lauderdale are only a hundred bucks round trip. Takes an hour—which a lot of folks spend that time commuting, anyway.” He checked his speedometer, then his rearview, working it out in his head. “I could come for the weekends.”

  “Any chance she’d come to you?” Davey stretched his legs out before him.

  “Why?” If he thought she’d go for it, he would find her a little house. “She’s got her business. And like I said, she doesn’t want to jump into anything. Like living together, or getting married.”

  “Have you actually asked her?” Davey asked. “I suggest you buy a shiny ring, buddy.”

  “She’s already turned me down.”

  “But did you ask her, specifically? Spell it out, dude. You are not the best mind reader. You thought she was an alcoholic.” Davey shook his head.

  Dillon considered Davey’s words all week long. Monday night at Red’s Bar for wings and beer, he told Chapman and Mack about being a dad. “So,” Dillon said, “she didn’t want to see me because I would know she was pregnant.”

  Chapman stumbled backward in shock, his expression thrilled. “I never dreamed you’d be the first of us to have kids! Although Anderson always said you’d be a good dad, the way you watched out for everybody.”

  They all lifted a beer in Anderson’s memory.

  Mack grabbed him in a tight hug. “Congratulations. Wow. Please don’t tell me you’re getting married too because I will never hear the damn end of it.”

  “She’s too smart to marry me.” Dillon dropped a wing bone in the basket and wiped his hands on a napkin.

  “He’s too afraid to even ask her,” Davey outed him with an eye-roll, topping off everybody’s beer from the pitcher.

  They had a good laugh at his expense, but Dillon didn’t even mind. His life had changed incredibly. He’d had a good life, an amazing life, sure, but Crysta made it better. And now he and Crysta had created a baby and that was like the frosting on a triple layer chocolate fudge cake. But things weren’t perfect, not yet.

  “You know that Davey here is so chubby that Lara asked him to be Santa this weekend?” Dillon offered this information over a game of darts.

  Mack, who’d been shooting, slipped and his dart hit the wall.

  “Bad form,” Davey said, bobbing the metal end of his dart at Dillon.

  Dillon shrugged. All was fair in love and war.

  Chapman said, “Santa, huh? Well, good luck. Do you have to hand out presents to a bunch of bratty kids?”

  “I don’t think so. Well,” Davey frowned. “Maybe for an hour or two, to fill in for the other guy. The real Santa.”

  “You know that there is no real Santa, right?” Mack slugged Davey’s arm. “You agreed to get in the red suit. The other guy was never there. You’ve been had, sucker.”

  “Nah, Lara’s not like that.” Davey smoothed the feathers then walked up to the throwing line.

  “Uh huh. Let’s talk when you get back.” Chapman winked. “If I wasn’t filling in for Dillon here, I’d want to check you out as Santa for myself. But me and Marty will be helping out the lieutenant and stuffing Christmas stockings this weekend for the kids at Bayview Orphanage.”

  Dillon lifted his beer. “Thanks, man.”

  Mack sighed. “I can’t leave without her wanting to know exactly where I’m going. I had to lie and tell her that I was out at the gym just to get away tonight.”

  “And how do you explain the beer on your breath when you get home?” Chapman asked with a shake of his head. “Just be straight.”

  “Too much work,” Mack grumbled. “I wish she’d break up with me again.”

  Dillon got up to shoot, his eye on the bullseye. “Then don’t bother brushing your teeth and you should be a single by morning. You can stay at my place this weekend if you need to get away. I won’t be using it.” It felt good to say that and know that he was going to be with Crysta.

  And his baby boy.

  Woot! He shot, landing the dead center of the board. “That’s right.”

  He gave high fives all around. When Red asked what the commotion was about, of course the guys had to tell him, and the Irishman sent over another round.

  His mind strayed to Crysta—how to get her to stay? And so the guys came up with a plan.

  ***

  Wednesday afternoon, Crysta gave Lara a cup of Earl Gray tea and showed her the ultrasound photos. “Consider this a reveal party—me, to you. No gifts necessary.”

  Dressed for the holidays in a sparkly gold knit shirt, Lara looked at the images, then put them sideways and upside down. She dropped them in frustration. “I can never be a mom. I have no damn idea what I’m looking at. Is that an elbow?”

  “Knee cap. You did good! But this is the main clue…” She tapped the gender. Happy, really, just to have a healthy baby.

  Lara squealed. “A boy! Finally, we can paint the bassinet. What did Dillon think? It took a while for me to get Davey calmed down, but he finally realized that you hadn’t told Dillon, for Dillon’s sake. He got it—even shared some awful things about Dillon’s mom. I’m sorry that this was so dramatic.”

  “Lara, you should have seen his face, listening to the heart beat, and seeing the baby’s foot, and toes.” Crysta hugged her middle. “He was over the moon.”

  “I bet.” Lara studied the pictures. “I can’t believe technology. Look at that upturned nose? That little fist!” She eyed Crysta with concern. “What’s his name going to be? We can’t just keep calling him baby.”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged out of her lightweight red reindeer sweater, too warm after the tea. Lara had come over to help her with a pedicure, since she couldn’t bend so well anymore.

  “Did Dillon have any ideas?”

  “He suggested a raffle.” She remembered the gentleness of his hug, his sense of humor. Heir Apparent. Ha.

  “I like this guy.” Lara went to the hall closet and brought out Crysta’s selection of nail polishes that she kept in an orange plastic tub. “When do I get to know him? Are you guys gonna get married?” She put the tub on the table. “Does he know that you ended up in the hospital?”

  “He texted that he’s coming down this weekend with Davey.” She lifted the colors, shaking a bottle of cherry red—his return was another reason to refresh her pedicure.

  “That’s too bright I think,” Lara said. “More summer than Christmas.”

  “Good point.” Crysta picked up a crimson shade and Lara nodded approval. “No, to marriage, and no about the hospital,” Crysta continued their conversation. “It would just freak him out for no reason. He’s been through enough.”

  “I think you should tell him.” Lara tilted her head and her golden bell earrings rang.

  “Lara!”

  “What? I was right—he should’ve known earlier that you were pregnant.”

  “I am not di
scussing this anymore. Saying I told you so is never attractive.” Crysta heated the kettle for more hot water and tea.

  “Way to throw one of my mom’s sayings back in my face,” Lara said. “Fine. Sorry.” She sighed. “Why no to marriage?”

  “Just because! We need to slow things down.”

  “A baby is not slow. It will be easier in the long run if you are married. You know, before junior here goes to school.”

  “I have years.” Dipping my toes in. Was it time to jump? Besides, he hadn’t asked.

  “Listen, I love you, Crysta. Whatever you want to do is cool by me. That said, if you have Dillon move in, this place won’t be big enough.”

  “I spent a few formative years in the back of a van. This is paradise.”

  She tossed her blonde curls. “You win. Again.” Lara gestured to Crysta’s left foot, which was bare of polish and ready to be painted. “Can I throw you a party now? You need blue boy things.”

  “I don’t want a party.” It was true that since being pregnant she’d made a few friends that weren’t at all catty, and they had offered to help. But that didn’t mean that Crysta wanted parties with baby games. Guess how many diaper pins were in the baby bottle. Yuck.

  “It’s fun!” Lara said. She shook the polish, then applied a thin layer to Crysta’s big toe. “We can do something small, at the restaurant. Say, next Sunday, around three?”

  “You already sent out invites, didn’t you?” Crysta crossed her arms over her stomach, which seemed to be getting bigger by the hour.

  “Guilty.” She looked back down and expertly swiped red along the rest of Crysta’s toes. “You have to show or I will look like an idiot. The cake is non-refundable.”

  Crysta, unable to move, pointed to the calendar by the fridge. “That is so close to Christmas. I can’t believe people want to come.”

  “Women love cake. Two hours, tops.” She finished the other foot. “I swear that if you don’t have a good time, then I will strip naked and streak through downtown.”

  This meant that Lara was very sure that Crysta would have fun, since she had a phobia of public nudity. After a second coat, and waving her hands over Crysta’s toes, Lara sat back. “Well?”

  “All right, all right. I will go, and eat cake and smile a lot. Do guys come?”

  “They can, but I didn’t invite guys because at the time, you didn’t have one.” Lara rested her elbow on the table, her bracelets jingling as she tightened the cap of the polish.

  “Right. I mean, I still don’t. Sort of.”

  “Exactly.” Lara sipped her tea. “Clear as mud.”

  For some reason, this made them both laugh hysterically until Crysta got the hiccups. In an effort to stop the hiccups, she put a silver spoon on her nose.

  Lara took video of this rather than help her.

  “Lara!” Crysta held her stomach, still laughing. “Stop it.” They laughed, on the verge of crying.

  And then her water broke.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Crysta called Dr. Mary, who calmed a panicked Lara down as Crysta had the doctor on speaker phone.

  Her best friend paced around the kitchen table. “I shouldn’t have laughed, I shouldn’t have laughed.”

  “It’s okay,” the doctor said in stern voice to Lara. “Crysta, honey, how are you feeling? Any contractions, or cramping?”

  “No.” Crysta did a body check and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Bonus: Her hiccups had stopped.

  “Okay. What I’m going to recommend is that you rest. Your due date is still three weeks out. When are you scheduled to come in and see me?”

  Crysta looked at the calendar. This was Wednesday. “Friday.”

  “Good, then we can check how you are feeling. If your water did break, we will see if you are dilated. If your contractions get to be ten minutes apart, call me.”

  Crysta and Lara exchanged panicked looks. Neither had a clue as to what a contraction felt like. “Okay. Uh, Dr. Mary? A lot has happened in the last few days. Dillon found out about the baby. And he’s okay—we went and got a 4D ultrasound yesterday, and we are having a boy!”

  “That is wonderful, Crysta. You’ve made my afternoon, hon. All right—rest and I will see you Friday. Bye, Lara.”

  Crysta ended the call and snickered at Lara. “Rest. No jokes. You might have to sit out in the waiting room while I give birth.”

  “I said I would be there for you and I will. No laughing.” She zipped her fingers across her mouth.

  Personally, Crysta liked that Lara made her laugh. In the old days it had been a much-needed blessing.

  “Should I call Dillon?” Crysta pointed toward her phone with her chin. She didn’t know the rules of what they shared. Friends, parents, girlfriend? Hook-up?

  “I don’t know.” Lara shrugged and put the polishes away. “Hey, I’m hungry for Thai. Sound good?”

  “Yeah.” These days she could always eat. “I don’t want to bug him with stupid stuff. And it isn’t like he gets paid time off.”

  “He’s a lieutenant in the Navy,” Lara said. “I’m pretty sure he gets loads of time off. You realize he probably makes good money.”

  “I used to make good money.” Now she had less in the bank. “And I don’t care about that, anyway.”

  “If he moves here, you will need to buy a bigger place.”

  “Will you leave my studio alone?” Crysta had finally made it homey.

  “Yes, but if you do sell, I want first dibs.” Lara leaned her hip against the deep, brown velvet couch.

  “I am not selling. This is part of my retirement portfolio and my accountant told me when I bought the place that it was a gold star investment.”

  Lara pouted, and then rallied. “Fine. But you know something funny? This you, this investment portfolio guru, is more in line with the grown-up Crysta you’ve always been inside. Just don’t ever lose gothic all the way, okay? I like your wild side, too.”

  Crysta didn’t like the focus on her and changed the subject. “How on earth did you get Davey to agree to wear a Santa suit in the heat of December? He’s going to roast!”

  “Two hours, that’s all. And he’s in the Navy. He’s tough.” Lara phoned in the order for Thai food and joined her on the couch. “He’s loaded with muscles.”

  The way she said that, with a tiny smile of appreciation, caught Crysta’s attention. “Did you sleep with him?”

  Lara turned red and grabbed the remote to flip the channels.

  “You did.” Her mouth dropped, but she snapped it closed. Dillon had told her that Davey was into Lara.

  “So? We are two consenting adults. Trust me, I’m on the pill, and he doubled up on the condoms, after what happened to you.”

  “Pregnancy is not contagious!” She eyed her friend, who still had flushed cheeks. “Do you like him?”

  “I am not in the habit of sleeping with guys I don’t like.” Lara focused on the screen.

  “But, it has happened.”

  “Really? Are you ever going to let that go?” She brought her gaze from allergy medicine commercials to Crysta. “It was prom. I was very intoxicated. I feel like this falls into that I told you so arena.”

  “Fair enough.” Crysta tapped her lower lip.

  “Davey promised to be Santa when my drummer Steve backed out last minute. Family thing—what can you do? It was cool that he agreed to step in, that’s all. I am not in love with the guy.”

  “Okay. Did you tell him that he has to draw the winning name during the open house at the studio?”

  “Of course.” But Lara quickly sent a mystery text off as the music to the popular television series started.

  Probably giving the poor guy a heads up. Not only would he be Santa in the heat, he had to make a guest appearance. He might make the local paper, if he cared about that kind of thing.

  Bottom line was she needed a name for her store. And now a name for her son. And she would take all of the help offered, even from the North Pole.


  Dillon sent her a text right then, as if he knew she’d been thinking about him, asking how her day had gone.

  With silly butterflies in her stomach, she told him just fine. And that she was going to the doctor on Friday. She didn’t mention the water breaking part, since there didn’t seem to be any urgency.

  He texted back to make sure she was okay, and she had to let him know that appointments were common this close in to the birth. And, by the way, had he thought of any names?

  He sent back a list of that made her cringe.

  “Bartholomew?” she told Lara. “Bert? Maximus? Where the hell is he getting these from?”

  Lara burst out laughing. “You might have to come up with your own list in self-defense. I realize you’ve been in the slow lane for this stuff, but unless you want to raise a Pro Wrestler, you need to fire back. Josh. Nick. Luke. Matt. Those are nice, boring names.”

  “I don’t want my son to have a boring name.” Crysta punched a cushion into shape and put it at her back.

  “Of course not!” Lara nodded wisely. “But you have to make sure that you get the one you do want. Counter, then come together in a compromise. My mom said that marriages survive on compromise.”

  Lara’s parents had been together forever—the only married couple she knew that was with their original partners, and relatively happy about it. “I’ll try.”

  She texted back Luke, Matt, and Bob for good measure.

  Dillon called her, laughing. “I knew I’d get you. Although Maximus isn’t terrible.”

  “For a Pit Bull,” she laughed back. She took the phone out onto the balcony for some privacy. It felt like having a boyfriend without the uncertainty of whether or not things would work out. For better or worse they had a connection now and would need to learn to make a life together, somehow.

  “Since neither of us has family names that are important,” he said, “it widens the playing field. It feels like a really big deal.”

  “If we give him something that doesn’t fit, I mean, I suppose he could change it later…maybe we wait to meet him, first, then decide?”

  “Do they let you do that?”