All He Wants this Christmas_A single-dad Holiday Romance

by Claire Woods

  “You’re right. Thank God she called me.”

  We finally turn, and the wheels stick, sliding, before straightening into the driveway of Tiff’s condo. He cuts the engine and grabs the bag from the back. I don’t wait for him to get my door. He uses his own key to let us in, and I follow him quickly up the stairs. “I’m here Tommy. Kate is too. We’re gonna get you better buddy.”

  I open the pack, barking out instructions. Taking the digital scanner, I check his temp—104 Fahrenheit.

  “How much does Tommy weigh?”

  “I-I don’t…”

  “Never mind Tiff. I can dose by his age. Did you call his pedi?”

  “No. I just called Gianni.”

  “Pour me 7.5mls of the Ibuprofen.” I turn away from Gianni, “Does your tummy hurt, Tommy?”

  He shakes his head.

  “Does it hurt here?” I press where his appendix is.

  He shakes his head, “My throat…”

  “Okay. I need you to drink this medicine sweetie.”

  He nods, and I hold the small dosing cup to his lips making sure he finishes it all.

  “Get me a flashlight.” Neither questions me and they leave to find one.

  “Here.” Tiff hands me the light.

  “Close your eyes and open your mouth wide. Say Augghhhh.”

  Shining the light to the back of Tommy’s throat: I make my diagnosis. “I think its strep. See the tiny white dots on the back roof of his mouth and on his tonsils? Luca’s had it three times. He’ll need penicillin, but for now, all we can do is control his fever and keep him hydrated.”

  “You sure?” Gianni asks.

  “I’d bet my house in a game of blackjack.”

  He sighs in relief. Tiff’s phone rings. “It’s the on-call pedi.”

  “Here…” I gesture for the phone and speak on Tommy’s behalf explaining what I’m doing for him. “Okay, we’ll be there.” I hand Tiff back her phone, “They want us to bring him in at nine when they open. He also thinks it might be strep. It’s going around again.”

  Lifting the plug, I start draining the tub and grab a towel. “Get him some fresh jammies and change his sheets. It might help him feel better.”

  “I can’t sleep,” Tommy whispers with tears escaping his eyes.

  “That’s alright buddy. How about me and you watch some Christmas cartoons?”

  He gives a soft smile. I turn to Gianni, “Pour some Gatorade into a cup with a straw and move some blankets and pillows downstairs for us.”

  I towel dry him and help him get dressed while Tiff just stands behind us. “You’re a natural. I froze. Couldn’t even think what to do,” she whispers.

  “I understand. I panicked the first time Luca got sick. But now you know what to do. Just make sure to have medicine and supplies on hand.”

  She nods her head and tries to take Tommy’s hand. But he grabs mine fast. She looks down at the floor, hugging herself. “Why don’t you get Tommy his favorite stuffed animal and meet us downstairs?” I suggest.

  Holding his hand, I lead Tommy downstairs and get him settled on the makeshift bed Gianni’s made on the couch. “Is the Grinch, good?”

  Tommy nods and snuggles in. “Here. Sip slowly, but drink as much as you can.”

  I run the scanner across his forehead; 100 degrees Fahrenheit. “It’s lower. I think we’ll be able to get him through the rest of the night.”

  “Thank you.” Gianni squeezes my shoulder, his gaze, worshipping me like a hero.

  “I’m glad I could help. It’s no fun being sick is it?” I ask Tommy, running a hand over his sweet head.

  “I love you, Ms. Kate.”

  Tears prick my eyes at his confession, and I lean down, kissing his cheek, “Love you too buddy.”

  There’s a sheen in Gianni’s eyes as he stares at the two of us, seeing a future so precious; my heart hurts thinking about it. And right here in this moment; I change my Christmas wish, already knowing I love this man and his son. I no longer only want Gianni for Christmas. I want a new family—one that includes Tommy.

  I THOUGHT I WAS FALLING in love with her. But when she took charge helping Tommy, I knew for sure.

  She’s so damn perfect.

  We’ve been together four weeks.

  Four weeks… of laughter, tears, joy, frustration, the hottest sex of my life, and enough love to cure the world of hate. That’s what she’s given me.

  My hands dig deep into my sherpa-lined bomber jacket as I walk through the snow falling in Manhattan, making my way to the diamond district on 47th Street.

  In the inside of my coat is forty grand in cash. I thought about buying her a ring at Cartier. But I don’t want a design another woman could own. I want to commission a custom ring for Kate. She’s an original, my angel; the love of my life.

  The secret trading place in the East Side is where the best diamonds shine behind armed guards and reinforced doors. I hit the intercom button while looking into the camera. “Mr. DeLuca… welcome.” The door buzzes open, and I’m pat down, checked for weapons before allowed entrance into a double-locked room that the guard opens.

  “Welcome.”

  Marco Lyon, one of the most ruthless and exclusive diamond dealers in the world shakes my hand, leading me to a counter where dozens of jewels glitter on a black velvet cloth. “Found the one, huh? Congrats.”

  “I did. Glad you phoned telling me that you were in town or I might’ve ended up at Tiffany’s in a few months. This is moving up my timeline a bit. But I have no doubts.”

  He flicks his wrist gesturing to the stones, “Tiffany’s diamonds are of good quality… but these are flawless—mined in Africa.”

  I nod my head, “She deserves the best. Show me the biggest stone.”

  He picks up one, holding it to the light, “This one is five-carats.”

  “Great. I’ll take it. Wait…let me see that sapphire… I want a wedding band that’s a circle of diamonds, too.”

  He shakes his head, “You lucky bastard.”

  “Tell me about it.” I slap his back, “You’ll find your queen too.”

  “I thought I did. But she slipped through my fingers.”

  I shrug my shoulders, “Find her. Get her back.”

  It should be easy for a man like Marco. We met a few years back when I renovated an estate he bought out in Westchester. It had rolling lawns and iron gates. The kinda property that belongs in England—with royalty living in it. I even told him that. He confided—he was a royal, from Spain. He just doesn’t advertise being a Duke.

  “Why are you dealing diamonds? Don’t you have enough money?”

  “I do. But nothing as dangerous as this. I crave excitement the thrill of adrenalin. Most of the royal men are soft; hosting charity events and arranging photo ops.”

  “Huh,” I grunt, “tough life.”

  “Wolf… we need to leave in an hour.”

  He dips his head acknowledging the elder man.

  “Wolf?” I ask with a raised brow.

  “A nickname… hurry up and make your choice, DeLuca. I have a Christmas ball to attend in D.C. tonight.”

  “A royal commitment?” I ask with an eyebrow raised.

  He tips his head, “Something like that. I’m an ambassador.”

  “Sounds fancy.”

  “It has value for a man like me.”

  “I get it. Power and connections?”

  “You are a smart man, DeLuca and one I’m glad to call my friend.”

  I look up from the stone in my hand meeting his gaze. Although I’m a bigger man, I wouldn’t want to meet him in a back alley at night. There’s a hint of danger about him, simmering just below the surface. Behind his expensive suit and sophisticated looks, I glimpse into the man underneath for a second. It’s in his eyes. Wolf’s eyes. Cold. Calculating. Hard. I’m glad I’m on his friend’s list—not his foe.

  “You sending me a wedding invitation?”

  “Hell, no. You’d probably kidnap my bride.”
r />   “Let me see her picture.”

  I pull out my cell, finding the pic of Kate and me at the annual holiday party I threw for my workers. She’s in that green velvet dress, and her hair’s down, full of large soft curls.

  “You’re right. She’s one of a kind… I would take her from you.”

  “I’d have to kill you. It wouldn’t only break my heart, but my boy’s.”

  “Tommy, right? How’s he doing?”

  “Better now… did I ever tell you about my ex-wife, Tiff? Now, there’s a woman I’d gladly let you have.”

  “No thanks. You’ve made your choice?” He gestures to the five-carat diamond in my palm.

  “Yes.” I open my pocket, taking out the zipped bank bag. Lyon hands it to his assistant. Pay me the rest upon completion…another forty.”

  “No problem.”

  “I’ll take the diamond to Spain myself and have the platinum band forged by the best craftsmen in the world. I take it you want a princess-cut-cushion setting?”

  I nod my head, “Yes. It’s classy. Just like her.”

  He places the stone in a pouch. His assistant puts the other rocks away. “It will be a month or so. You won’t be able to propose for Christmas.”

  “I knew that. I was thinking Valentine’s Day anyway.”

  Marco arches a brow, “But when a man knows—he knows, sí?”

  “No doubt.” I shake his hand and walk out. I have one more stop to make before going back to Queens and wrecking more shit before building it back up again.

  “DeLuca? What the… ”

  “Hello, Tony.”

  I waltz into his office like it is mine instead of his. Without asking, I sit, propping my work boots on his desk. His face turns three shades of red before he speaks, “Get out.”

  “No can do.” Removing my boots, standing, I attempt to broker a truce. “You and I have a history of bad blood. I don’t expect to erase that overnight. But I intend to stick around, being a part of Kate and Luca’s life. Let’s cut the shit between us. We’ll never text, watch the Jets while splitting a six-pack, or have poker nights… but we need to find a way to make it better for the two of them. They deserve it. I’m willing to try if you are.”

  Giving me his back, he walks to the window, hands in his trouser pockets, looking down at the city below. “I had the world in my hand, and I gave it up… all for a piece of ass. I was a fool, an idiot. I let new money and status consume me, losing sight of the treasure I already had.”

  “You’re fuck-up was a gift for me. I treasure her. I know what I have, and I’m keeping it.”

  He sighs. “Well, I guess you have my blessing. How fucked-up is that?”

  I shrug, “Stranger shit happens.”

  I guess. “Is Tiff single?”

  I shake my head, “Not right now. But you know, what? The two of you are a match made in heaven.” Moving to the door, giving it a tap on my way out I tell him, “We’re expecting you for Christmas dinner. Don’t fuck-up and be late.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Oh, and bring some cannolis—the ones from Mama Rosie’s on 7th.”

  He flips me the bird, making me laugh, as I leave him still standing at the window pondering how his greatest mistake led to my greatest fortune.

  I whistle along to the Christmas tunes playing on the radio the entire drive back to Queens, lost in planning my perfect proposal. I don’t notice the sanitation truck barreling through a red light. Until it hits me.

  Squealing tires, the crunch of metal, splintering glass, seconds play the years of my life. The copper taste of blood… Tommy’s smile, her face, light—then darkness.

  MY HOUSE SMELLS OF BAKING sugar cookies. I pulled all the decorations from the attic to decorate the very first real Christmas tree standing proudly in my front window. I smile remembering how Gianni took the boys and me to a farm an hour north of here. He said picking a Christmas tree is an experience—he was right.

  We bundled up in snow pants and mittens, packed a thermos of hot chocolate and hiked out into the fields in search of two perfect trees. The boys get along better than ever. It seems like our families are starting to weave together into one. It scares the shit out of me. If this were to fall apart… both boys’ hearts would break with mine.

  “Kate?”

  Startled, my feet race to the soft knocking on my door.

  “Dolores?”

  Gianni’s mother stands, with shaking hands. “There’s been an accident…”

  I falter, not processing. Not believing.

  “He’s a Mt. Sinai, in the ER.”

  “My God.” I stumble, clutching the door.

  “Can you drive?

  “Yes.” Trembling fingers gather my purse and keys and turn the oven off.

  “I already called the school. Carla, Gianni’s office manager, is picking up Tommy and bringing him home.”

  “I’ll phone the school and have her get Luca too.”

  “H-how bad is h-he?”

  “Critical.”

  Shoving my coat on, I scream, “God no. Please, not him. Please…”

  Mrs. DeLuca hugs me tight, “You love my boy.”

  “I do. So much.” I answer through tears.

  “We need to get to him.”

  “I know some doctors… from my job. I’ll phone a few.”

  We both silently pray while I drive into New York making a few calls, the first one to Margie. We only met once, but she’s an incredibly strong, capable woman. I know she’ll make sure Gianni’s in the best of hands.

  Five minutes away from the hospital it dawns on me: for the first time, the lights don’t twinkle. The magic of the city’s vacant from my heart.

  My hands grip the wheel so hard my knuckles turn white. Finding a spot in the hospital’s garage, I climb out with a racing pulse. With arms locked in solidarity, we enter the hospital. I give my name to the receptionist; her eyes widen, “Wait right here. The boss woman asked to be paged the minute you arrive.”

  She picks up the hospital phone, paging Margie. My hands shake, tears fall, my lungs can’t breathe. I’ve been to this hospital hundreds of times. Floating in with coffee and big dreams, now I sit in the same chairs I passed dozens of times. Now being the one who sits waiting for news of my loved one.

  And he is so loved.

  I was afraid to tell him. That I’d look like a fool if I said what was in my heart after only four weeks.

  I was a fool not to tell him.

  “Kate.”

  Margie takes a seat next to me. She looks at us both, placing a hand on my arm. “He got hit by a city truck. Both airbags deployed, saving his life. But his left leg got crushed. He lost a lot of blood…they had to wait for the jaws of life to extract him.” I turn away burying my face in my hands. Mrs. DeLuca sobs profusely.

  “He’s in surgery now. Dr. Clark was on call. Of course, he came in when I phoned. He’s the best surgeon in the country. If anyone can save his leg, it’ll be him.”

  “How long has he been in surgery?”

  “About an hour.”

  “Did he already start a transfusion?”

  “Yes. He had a medical card in his wallet with all his information. We called his primary care physician as well to confirm his blood type.”

  I nod my head, letting out a breath. They’re on top of everything. Standing up, I offer a hand to Dolores. “We’ll be in the chapel. Find us when he’s out.”

  Holding Dolores’ hand, I lead her to the small room to pray. Flameless candles glow on a table below a cross. As she kneels, my eyes fall to the rosary beads clutched in her hands. She fingers the beads says the words, praying to God he hears them.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  Finding a quiet spot down the hall, I call him. “Kate?”

  “I need you, Tony. Please. I know we aren’t on the best terms, but there’s been an emergency.”

  “Luca?”

  “He’s fine. But I’m at Mt. Sinai. I’m staying all nigh
t. I need you to pack a bag and pick up Luca from Gianni’s house. You might have to stay in Jersey for a few days…”

  “It’s Gianni?”

  My answer’s an uncontrollable sob.

  “Christ. He was just here—I just saw him.”

  “Did you provoke him?”

  “N-no. Nothing like that, he invited me over on Christmas Day. He wanted to make amends. Jesus, Kate. I’m coming. I’m so sorry. What should I tell Luca?”

  “Nothing yet. Gianni’s still in surgery. Just say he was in a car accident and I’m taking care of him. But before you say anything, make sure Tiff has a chance to tell Tommy first.”

  “Okay. Text me, keep me in the loop.”

  “I will.”

  Wiping my tears, I make another call I dread.

  “Kate?”

  “Tiff… did you get the news?”

  “Yes. Gianni’s aunt called. I’m on my way to his house to wait with the boys. H-how is he.”

  “I don’t know yet. He’s still in surgery… it’s bad.”

  “I still love him.”

  “I know. I’ll call you as soon as I hear anything.”

  Pushing off the wall, head hanging down, I walk back to the chapel. A hand lands on my shoulder, “He made it. He’s in recovery. I’m not supposed to, but I’ll let you see him tonight.”

  With a cry of joy and relief, I hug Margie tight, “thank you.”

  She squeezes my hands, “I’ll come back when he’s assigned a room.”

  Dolores turns when I open the door, I nod my head, smiling through tears of relief. “He’s in recovery… the doctor saved his leg.”

  “Sweet baby Jesus, thank you,” she cries wiping her eyes.

  “We’ll be able to see him soon, but he’ll probably be sedated. I’ll call Tiff and let her know.”

  “Better you than me. I can’t stand that woman.”

  After phoning Tiff and giving her the news, I take Dolores to the small coffee shop off the Lobby. We’ve met a few times but never really talked. I open up to her about Luca and Tony, and she tells me stories about Gianni as a boy. Before I know it, an hour’s gone by, and Margie finds us. We follow her through doors that only open with the swipe of her key card.