The December Deal

by Dana Volney

  Her brows furrowed.

  “Being your husband and all.”

  Her head moved up and down cautiously. “Right. And the hug—for appearances, too?”

  Busted.

  “Yup.”

  “It didn’t seem like it. Neither did what you said. I could keep going.”

  The hospital made her a wise-ass.

  He was careful not to spill her cup as he put his arms around her for a hug, thankful for her scent once again. “Would it be so bad if I came up here because I care?” he whispered into her ear, but he was asking himself as much as her.

  He needed to stop trying to flirt and go back to the spirit on which they’d both agreed: this was only a mutually beneficial contract.

  “No, it wouldn’t,” she breathed into his chest, and his entire body woke.

  Tomorrow. Tomorrow he’d remind himself of the terms of their agreement. Tonight he just wanted to be by her side.

  “Lilia?” An older woman in scrubs opened the door they were standing in front of. “You can come in for a moment.”

  Lilia nodded to her and then turned back to Vincent. “Stay out here?” Lilia searched his gaze.

  Yeah, he’d made the right call coming to the hospital.

  “I’ll be right over there.” He pointed to a bank of chairs lined up on the other side of the hall then she went into the darkened room.

  “Where’d she go?” Lena asked, sitting down next to him and crossing her legs.

  “The nurse said she could go in.”

  Lena leaned closer to him. “I know why she married you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yup. I also know why you married her.”

  “Oh.” Disappointment stifled his word. He’d rather enjoyed that no one was aware of their deception. It was a secret only they knew. Now her twin sister was in on it.

  “I think it’s horrible.”

  Yeah, his night wasn’t going so well.

  “And why is that?” He’d play along. It was that or leave, and he wasn’t leaving Lilia.

  “Because you can’t toy with your lives like this and not expect consequences.” Lena rested her head on the light blue wall behind them, staring at the closed door to her father’s hospital room.

  “Like what?” Consequences like having full ownership of his business and Lilia cashing a fat check? Which she had. The next day.

  “You’ll find out. Sooner or later, you’ll find out.”

  “Why did she marry me?” Maybe Lena would tell him what the money was for.

  “Because that woman is crazy. That’s why.”

  “She’s not so bad.” A smile tugged at the ends of his lips.

  “I’m going to give you the PG version of what my brother will say when he gets back. Mind you, he doesn’t know this is all a farce.” She sat up straight and looked him dead in the eye. “You mess with her, you mess with me. And I have nothing to lose and all day to plan revenge.”

  “I appreciate that you care, but I have no intention of hurting Lilia. We have an agreement, and we’re both adults honoring it.” She should know that if Lilia had fully filled her in on the deal.

  “You forget.” The door to the room opened. “I’m the one you hugged.”

  Lilia appeared out of the darkness and nodded to Lena, who stood, then turned back to him. “Consequences.”

  A chill ran up the length of his arms as Lilia warmed the seat Lena had just vacated.

  “What’s that about?”

  “Nothing.” He sat forward and leaned his elbows on his knees. “What’s wrong with your dad?”

  “Pancreatic cancer.” Her face flushed, and her cheeks sunk.

  Not a good sign.

  She looked like what he’d experienced a little over a year ago in the ER of this very hospital the night his dad died. He’d felt that same sadness down to his soul for four long hours. The beeping and voices surrounding his dad were a nightmare he could still recall in the blink of an eye. His dad hadn’t made it up to a proper room before having another heart attack and dying. The hope in Lilia’s eyes broke Vincent’s heart.

  “He’s doing okay. They’re going to go down to Denver and try a different type of treatment. It’s experimental. Although I don’t think the side effects are any easier with those drugs either.”

  “So close to Christmas?” At the very least, he hoped her dad made it long enough not to spoil the holiday season for her forever.

  “Has to be.”

  “We can drive him.”

  She squeezed his knee, and he watched her hand. His knee warmed, and he didn’t want her to move her palm.

  “Arrangements have been made. I don’t think we get to go. Just Mom. Hopefully he’s back and better by Christmas.”

  “If not, we can bring Christmas to him.”

  Damn the “we”—he just couldn’t stop saying it.

  She smiled faintly and stood. “Let’s go. I’ll come back tomorrow.”

  He locked fingers with her and led her to his truck. It was late, and she’d had a long day; he could drop her off at the hospital to pick up her car on his way to work in the morning.

  “Thanks for coming tonight.” The darkness of the night prevented him from seeing her face clearly.

  “No problem.”

  She reached over and set her palm on the top of his hand that rested on the center console.

  “Have they tried surgery or chemo or whatever else they do these days?” There had to be more options than experimental drugs.

  “He had surgery a couple weeks ago, but new tumors have already formed. Chemo is making him sick and weak. That’s why I returned home.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “What did your dad die from?”

  “Heart attack.”

  She tightened her grip on his hand.

  “It sucked. It still sucks.”

  His dad was probably laughing from his grave at the way his clause was actually turning out.

  They rode in silence. Lilia had a lot to process from her night, and he wasn’t in a chatty mood any longer. But their silence wasn’t uncomfortable—nothing about Lilia was uneasy. And damned if that didn’t scare the hell out of him.

  • • •

  Lilia tiptoed downstairs. She needed ice cream. She’d been tossing and turning in bed for hours—her lids hung low and sleep was appealing, but images of her dad in the hospital haunted her. The cool air from the freezer chilled her arms, but she just stood there. Vincent had a lot of ice cream and she’d bought more flavors to feed her habit, but now she didn’t know what she wanted.

  At all. In life.

  She wanted her dad to be fine so everything could go back to normal with their family. But then where did that leave her? Away from those she loved? That was stupid. Her world was crumbling, and she couldn’t breathe. She braced herself on the frame and hung her head. Her dad’s condition was serious, she knew that. She knew the odds of him being alive a year from now were in the teens. But those were just numbers. Seeing him so sick—that was real.

  Hopelessness bit at her cheeks, and she started to sob. She was helpless to fix this, to make her dad well again. The experimental treatment was all they had left, and even then, she didn’t know the life expectancy rate. She wasn’t strong enough to watch her dad die. What would she do without him?

  “Lilia.” Vincent’s palm caressed her back.

  Had she been crying that loudly? It didn’t matter. She couldn’t stop herself now.

  She wanted to move, to shut the freezer and back away from him, but she didn’t feel steady.

  His palm moved to her side, and then she was in his arms, completely encased. She wrapped her arms around him and held on, catching her breath. His chest rose and fell in an even rhythm, and she could hear his heartbeat. She closed her eyes and listened.

  He didn’t say anything. He just held her.

  Her tears, and probably a little snot, had soaked through his cotton shirt.

  He slowly
moved his hand back and forth on her lower back and gently moved her hair away from her face so it wasn’t matted to her cheek any longer.

  It would be so nice if this were real, if he were consoling her because he loved her. She took a deep breath, pulled back, and meant to look him in the eye and thank him. But she couldn’t. She left his arms and turned away from him, unsure what to do next.

  “Do you want ice cream?” His soft tone made her wish she were still in his comforting arms.

  “Yeah.”

  “Which flavor?”

  “Surprise me.”

  It didn’t much matter, she liked them all, but eating this late hadn’t been the point of coming down here. She’d felt she was going to crawl out of her skin if she had stayed in bed, picturing her dad sick, much longer.

  She made her way to the couch, pulling a throw off the back and onto her lap. She curled her knees up to her chest and rested her head against her sweatpants. From her vantage point she could see Vincent move around the kitchen.

  “I hope I didn’t wake you.” Her nose wrinkled, but she had to say it. She’d obviously woken him with her crying, which, dang it, was a little embarrassing. There were only a few people she’d ever comfortably cried in front of, and he wasn’t on that list.

  He is now.

  “Here you go.” He handed her a bowl heaped high with rocky road. She started to smile—this was the ultimate comfort ice cream. “It must have been years ago, I think I was still in college, and I came home early one weekend. I hadn’t been back in a while.” He balanced his not-as-full bowl in his lap as he put one ankle over a knee. “I was going to pop in to see Dad before dinner, and I heard him in a meeting so I stopped at the doorway.”

  He wasn’t really looking at her, and his far-off memory made the apples of his cheeks rounder.

  “He was in a meeting with a big client, and they were arguing. Something hadn’t been done right according to the guy. That was the first time I’d ever seen my dad as … not perfect. Human. To me, he’d always been this larger-than-life business guy, family man.” His gaze connected with hers, and she swallowed hard because the rest of her was paralyzed. “It’s hard to see the ones you love go through something tough or to realize they aren’t perfect and beyond life’s perils.”

  “It’s certainly not great.” She knew people who had family problems or hated a parent or sibling, but that wasn’t the case for her—her family had always been close and enjoyed each other. They weren’t beyond their occasional fighting, but it never lasted long. She had no idea about, and couldn’t even bring herself to picture, life without the patriarch.

  “I can’t even tell you it will get easier, but you’ll make it through.”

  “How did you deal with your dad’s death?” No one else she knew had lost a parent, and surely it was okay to talk about this with him, since he hadn’t just left her down here to sulk. Her panic subsided. In this moment, she could talk to Vincent about anything. Once someone saw you sob your eyes out, it was all kind of out in the open.

  “It was hard. Still is. Once in a while I forget and I still pick up the phone to tell him about a deal I made or something he’d like, and then I just sit there, stunned all over again.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Tears welled in her eyes again. Life could be so sad, she could barely handle it. “I actually didn’t think you guys were that close, with the clause and all.”

  “That was a shock and still makes me mad that I can’t talk to him about it. I did ask Mom; she says it was because he didn’t want me to miss out on having a family.”

  “Best of intentions, right?” He wasn’t going to get a family with her, so his dad had failed, and she could see the pain across his face because he knew it, too.

  “Apparently I’m a workaholic,” he said.

  “You don’t seem that bad to me.”

  “That’s because I’ve left the office before eight since our deal”—he nodded to her—“and I didn’t go in today like I normally do.”

  Why hadn’t he? Maybe orders at Morgenstern Fabrication were slower because of the holiday season.

  “I’m sure you’ll get back to the way it was soon.”

  Did he not date much? He said there were a couple other women this past year, so surely he had a social life.

  The tip of her spoon sliced into the melting ice cream and clinked the bottom of the bowl. “I don’t even know what my normal is anymore.” A month ago, she’d known exactly where her life was, and she’d liked it. Now, too much had changed, and she needed new bearings.

  “Christmas is in a couple of days. Do you have any traditions? That could be a start.”

  “We have a party at the pub, and all of our family and friends are invited. That’s been happening for as long as I can remember.” And Christmas had come a little early this year—her mom’s face had lit up when she’d slipped her the check at the hospital.

  “Perfect. I look forward to the celebration. We should probably get our schedules straight. My mom wanted to have us over for Christmas Eve dinner. I’m not sure if Silver will be back in town by then, so you might have to meet her another time.”

  “Silver?” Did he have a daughter?

  “My sister.”

  “Right. Looks like Christmas will work out.” She glanced down at her empty bowl and then to the grandfather clock in the corner of the living room. It was beyond bedtime, and while Sunday had already arrived, she didn’t want to sleep the day away. “We better get back to bed.” She stood and tried not to freak out that she’d said “we” like they were going to bed together.

  “Any plans for tomorrow?” He let her go up the stairs first.

  “Not really. I’ll probably mess around with my blog and start drafting out some posts.” About what, she wasn’t exactly sure—she hadn’t eaten anywhere amazing or traveled anywhere new to write about.

  “Now who’s the workaholic?”

  She turned at the landing, at the spot where they’d go their opposite ways, in time to see him smile. “Guilty as charged.”

  He stepped up to the second floor and was closer to her than she thought he’d be. She should’ve taken a step back to give him more room. She glanced behind him—or he could’ve not stood so close. There was plenty of space for him.

  Her gaze dropped to his perfect, not-too-thin, kissable lips, then slowly rose back up to meet his eyes. They were intense and hot and contained something she hadn’t seen in them before. A lot of possibilities for their late night could play out. But only one of them ensured her keeping the money and her heart safe.

  “Good night.”

  “Good night.” He backed up and turned toward his room.

  She crossed her arms in front of her and made her way to her bed. There were a ton of things she could think about now besides her dad—like what the heck had just happened between her and Vincent in the hall. His blue eyes stared back at her when her head hit the pillow and her eyes closed.

  • • •

  Light streamed in through the high windows that framed the snowy mountains. Vincent had gotten up early and decided it was time he bought a Christmas tree. A real one. He would’ve been lying if he claimed his newfound affinity for the holiday was purely without the intention of cheering up Lilia. Because it was.

  After the tree was set up in the corner where the grandfather clock had been, he found a box in the back of his garage that contained Christmas decorations his mom had given him years ago—some bought, some from his childhood. He’d never looked in the box before.

  It was nearly lunchtime when Lilia made her way down the stairs.

  “Good morning.” He looked up from the couch, where he’d started to take lights out of boxes.

  “What’s all this?” She’d belted her fitted jeans and had a red plaid button-up tucked into them.

  “Christmas. Want to help decorate the tree?”

  “Of course. I thought you didn’t do decorations at home.” Her familiar pomegranate scent filled his n
ose and made him more aware of how beautiful she looked with a lot less makeup and her hair straight.

  “I thought it was time to buck up and embrace the holiday.” And your smile.

  “First, I need some coffee.” She headed toward the kitchen. “It smells really good in here.”

  “I put a roast in for later.” He’d definitely gone overboard. But the day was chilly, and a roast sounded good.

  “There’s no chance it’s ready now, is there?” she called out from the kitchen

  “Nope.”

  “Want a sandwich for lunch?”

  “Sure.”

  As soon as he had a string of lights ready for the tree, she appeared with two plates and ham sandwiches.

  “Breakfast of champions.” She chuckled as she set her coffee and plate on the long, rectangular table in front of the couch. “Are these your ornaments?” She slid the box on the floor closer to her. “You didn’t say you actually had Christmas stuff to use.”

  “That’s because I had no intention of using it.”

  “Well, let’s dig in.” She pulled out a circle of bubble wrap and gently pulled it apart. “Oh my goodness, did little Vincent color this?”

  There was a self-portrait crudely drawn in the middle of what he vaguely remembered was combed-out green yarn made into a circle frame.

  “Yes. And clearly I’m an artist who missed his calling.”

  She set it lovingly on the table and reached for the next handful of bubble wrap.

  “Maybe this was a bad idea.” There was no telling what else his mom had packed in that box. He should’ve checked it before leaving it out in the open.

  “Nonsense.” She pinched a golden thread and lifted another homemade gem. “You were crafty back in the day.” She smiled and even the sides of her eyes crinkled. If he could take her mind off of the negative in her life for just a couple hours then he’d done good.

  A family picture framed by Popsicle sticks colored red and green dangled from her fingers. “Wow, that was a long time ago.” Definitely the eighties by the look of their patterned shirts and his mom’s and sister’s ratted hair.

  She offered it to him, and he studied the picture, which was also framed in his mother’s hallway. “This one will have to go right here.” He hung it halfway up the tree so he could see it from his perch on the couch.