“Yeah,” she says. “We are all running. Malcolm and I are pushing the kids in the stroller.”
“I suppose you have my costume, too?” I ask but already know the answer.
Maci and I used to do the Jingle Run every year, and every year she’d make me wear some outrageous costume. We’ve run it in reindeer costumes, glittery pink Santa hats, sneakers that look like elf shoes. We even ran it once with mistletoe hanging from the top of our heads.
“Red bikini!” she says, raising an eyebrow at me. We always despised the girls that showed off and ran the race in barely-there swimsuits. It’s a charity run, not a runway.
“I will if you will,” I dare her, thinking there is no way in heck she’s going to show up in a red bikini.
Maci shimmies her boobs at me. “These things are way too big to be bouncing around the streets of Waterscape. I’m liable to kill someone.”
*
Standing back, I look up at my parents’ Christmas decorations hanging on Jax’s tree. My parents bought me a new ornament every year during the holidays in addition to the ones that they bought whenever we took a trip, so I have quite a collection. Each ornament is like a little walk down memory lane. I never took them to Chicago when I moved, it just didn’t seem like their home.
This is their home. Waterscape.
It’s good to see them hanging up again. It should feel strange seeing them up on Jax’s tree, but it doesn’t. He’s part of a lot of these memories, too. There’s the ornament my parents bought me when my family, Jax, and his mom traveled to the Atlanta zoo together when we were only in grade school. There’s the ornament he helped me make for my parents one Christmas out of seashells. Each ornament is a trip back into our childhood.
This is what a Christmas tree should look like. I always admire the trees in the stores that look so perfect. I’ve been in houses where the trees look much the same, and they are lovely, but this is what Christmas is about—family and home.
Jax and I have spent most of the day decorating the tree together. I haven’t decorated a tree with someone since I lived at home with my parents. Luke and I didn’t live together, so I always just did my own tree. He never bothered to put one up, claiming he was too busy. He’d think I was crazy if I told him I spent a whole day doing this, but you know what, I wouldn’t change this day for the world. Jax and I ordered Chinese takeout, played Christmas music, spent at least an hour trying to figure out which bulb was loose on a strand of lights, then laughed at ourselves for taking so long. It was the most fun I’ve had in a long time.
Luke’s idea of fun always involved big things, like trips, concerts, sporting events. Those are great, but simple fun is more my speed—no packing, no high heels, no fussy clothes. I was in sweats and a t-shirt all day. It was fabulous.
I only hope karaoke will be as much fun. Usually karaoke night involves having to drag Maci off the stage. Let’s just say, she enjoys the limelight a little too much.
“You look great!” Jax tells me, grabbing his keys off the kitchen counter.
I just exchanged my sweats and t-shirt for jeans and an oversized sweater. I’m hardly a fashionista. It’s not a smack on my ass, but is he trying to play by his rules with me? I really don’t care if he is. A compliment is a compliment. I’ll take it.
I thank him, not paying him the same compliment—though he looks drop dead hot. He always does, but it’s not my place to say. “Promise me you won’t let Maci drag me up on stage with her?”
“I promise,” Jax says, placing his hand at the small of my back, leading me outside.
The bar is only about a half mile down the beach from Jax’s house, so we decide to walk along the sand. Flip-flops in hand, I roll up my jeans in case a wave catches me, and we head toward the red lights of the bar. I look up at the moon, the stars, the Waterscape sky looking so different from the Chicago sky.
I love the ocean, the beach, but not at night. Once the sun sets, it goes from peaceful and serene to a black abyss. I like the water during the day when you can see to the bottom. I like seeing what’s coming. In the dark, you’ve got no idea. Danger could be right in front of you, and you wouldn’t see it.
“Thinking about moving back here?” Jax asks.
“How’d you know?”
He shrugs. “Your business is here. Your mom. Your friends. It’s not hard to figure it out.”
“I don’t have to decide anything right now.”
“Yeah, you do,” he says, taking me by the waist and twirling me. “You have to decide what song to sing.”
“Know that already. No one beats T. Swift for a breakup song: ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together’.”
“Think it’s supposed to be a Christmas song,” he teases, but then he stops, his eyes looking toward the bar. “Do you hear that?”
“No,” I say.
He takes my hand, hurrying toward the bar. It’s the second time today he’s taken me by the hand. Did he used to do that when we were kids?
The bar is on the beach so the windows all open to maximize the view and the breeze, but tonight the windows are allowing noise pollution, too. From the looks of the birds flying away, Maci’s on the stage. As soon as we reach the door, Jax releases my hand, opening the door for me. The place is filled with people. Nothing like celebrating the Christmas spirit with a few spirits of the liquid variety.
Malcolm waves to us from a booth, shaking his head at his wife who is already on the stage belting out “The Twelve Days of Christmas.” Leave it to Maci to pick the longest song she can find to stretch her time in the spotlight.
The bar is packed tonight. Everyone is laughing and singing along. Red Christmas lights cascade across the ceiling. Tinsel is tossed on anything and everything. The waitresses are all wearing sexy Santa skirts with knee high black boots, and best of all, I’m here with my best friends.
Malcolm gets to his feet, wrapping me in a hug. He’s clean-shaven, unlike the slight stubble Jax always sports. He’s tall like Jax, but his ginger hair matches his wife’s perfectly. He’s the quietest of our group. When you are around Malcolm, you get the feeling he’s watching everything and taking it all in.
“I have no control,” he says, pointing to his wife, who is currently doing a very provocative dance to the line about the maids milking.
“I’d hate to see her performance to ‘The Little Drummer Boy’!” I say.
“Don’t give her any ideas,” Malcolm says as we all take our seats. From the looks of things, it’s going to be a long night.
“How much has she had to drink?” Jax asks, unable to take his eyes off the train wreck that is Maci’s performance.
“Nothing,” Malcolm says with a laugh. “You know Maci, she’s on a natural high.”
Jax raises his hand up, motioning to the waitress. “Another?” he asks Malcolm, who nods. He orders beers for himself and Malcolm then looks at me.
I look around at what other people are drinking. “I want that pink one,” I say, pointing to another waitress walking by with a tray of drinks.
“That’s our Christmas special, Jingle Juice,” the waitress says.
“Perfect,” I say. She flashes a smile to Jax then walks to the bar to get our drinks. “You know her?”
He shakes his head. “Did you really just order a drink based solely on color?”
“Of course,” I say. “Oh crap, I should’ve ordered one for Maci.”
“Ordered me what?” she asks, scooting in beside Malcolm.
I should’ve realized she was finished. I can hear myself think now. “Jingle Juice.”
Maci looks at Malcolm, who smiles then gives her a little shrug and head tilt, as if to say it’s her call. “So I’m pregnant again,” Maci says like it’s the most common thing in the world to say.
I’m totally the friend to tell things to if you want a big, over the top reaction, and tonight is no exception. My scream rivals the ocean waves. I’m up out of my seat, hugging them both, a zillion questions coming out
of my mouth.
“How far along? When are you due? Why didn’t you tell me? Is it a secret?”
Maci holds her hands up, giving Jax an opportunity to congratulate them both, then she fills me in on the details. She’s due in the early summer. It’s not a secret, and she wanted to tell me in person. The waitress returns with our drinks, and we have a toast to celebrate the news.
Maci looks at Malcolm again, and he gives her an encouraging nod. It’s sweet to watch them together, the unspoken support. “So we’re going to have to talk about the business,” she says. “It’s hard enough with the twins, and now I’m going to have a newborn.”
On top of that, I know that Maci doesn’t need to work. Malcolm makes good money. I’m not sure what I’d do without her, though. I lean back in the booth, right into Jax’s arm, which is resting on the back. His hand wraps around my shoulder, pulling me a little closer, giving me his support, knowing the last thing I need right now is work drama. It’s the one thing that’s steady.
I glance over at him, searching for my own rock, my own person to lean on. He used to be that person for me, and I still see it in his eyes now. I down my drink. “We’ll do what we have to do.” I reach across and take Maci’s hand. “It will be fine.”
“It’s just I know we can’t really afford to hire . . .” Maci starts before a few tears fall from her eyes.
“You’re having a baby,” I say, patting her hand. “This is a happy moment.”
“But . . .”
“With everything going on, I’ve been thinking about moving back down here, so maybe this is a sign that it’s time.”
“Really?” Maci says, her eyes flying to Malcolm again, but she doesn’t sound as happy as I thought she would.
Malcolm leans forward a little. “So it’s really over with Luke?”
I feel Jax’s body tense next to mine. “We broke up.”
“I know,” Malcolm says. “It’s just you’ve been together so long. Maci and I thought you might work it out.”
My head starts to spin a little. It’s weird knowing that Luke and I have been the subject of conversations.
“He’s torn up,” Malcolm says.
Maci elbows him in the side to shut up, but it’s too late. “You talked to him?” I ask.
“Earlier,” Malcolm says. “He thought for sure you were staying with us.”
“You didn’t tell him where I am, did you?”
Maci gives her husband a disapproving look. Obviously, Malcolm told him, and Maci’s pissed about it. That makes me feel horrible. “I’m sorry you guys are caught in the middle.”
“We just thought you two would get back together,” Malcolm says.
“Well, I thought that until you told me what he did,” Maci says.
Jax and Malcolm exchange a glance, both of them in the dark.
“I need another drink,” I say, flagging down the waitress.
No one else at my table orders anything. Guess I’m the only lush, but after the week I’ve had, who cares?
“You know, if I’m honest, Luke and I have been growing apart for a while. I just couldn’t let go. It seems stupid, but I had so much time invested in that relationship. It was hard to walk away from that.”
“Let’s change the subject,” Maci says, saving my ass, but putting her husband’s in the hot seat. “Malcolm promised to sing tonight!”
CHAPTER FIVE
JAX
“I wanna go swimming,” Skylar giggles, running down the beach toward my pool.
She had too much Jingle Juice. I catch her by the waist, and she wraps her arms around my neck. There are definite rules about drunk girls. Ones you cannot break, no matter what. So no matter how much I want to kiss her, I won’t. I only had one beer for this very reason. I saw the way she downed her first drink, so I didn’t drink anything else, knowing I’d need to take care of her. That’s far more important than any buzz could ever be. She leans in closer, and I can smell the faint scent of her shampoo.
If I’m not sure she’d kiss me when she’s sober, then I can’t kiss her now. It’s that simple. Still, she’s completely adorable. “Think you need to get some sleep,” I say, helping her inside and up the stairs to my bedroom.
She pouts her lip at me. “I’m not tired.”
“We have the Christmas run tomorrow,” I say.
“That girl at the bar tonight liked you,” she says, roaming my bedroom aimlessly.
“Which girl?”
“The waitress.”
“Not my type,” I say, encouraging her to get into bed.
“Oh,” she says, hopping up and down a little. “Maci’s pregnant!”
I can’t help but laugh. “I know.”
“I want to have babies,” she says, falling on her back into my bed.
Looking down at her, her hair all spread out, a goofy smile on her face, I definitely wouldn’t mind some baby-making practice with her.
“Come lay with me,” she says, looking up at me. “Like when we were kids. Remember we used to just talk and talk?”
“I remember,” I say.
“I miss that,” she says, her voice sounding a little sleepy.
Fuck, I miss it, too. I miss it so much.
When Skylar was in Chicago with Luke, it was easier to ignore my feelings for her. Being with her wasn’t a possibility, so it was something I just pushed out of my head, forced out of my heart. But when she walked off that airplane, what we could be wasn’t just a possibility anymore, it was a reality I want to make happen.
Suddenly, she sits straight up. “Let’s stay up all night like we used to. It’ll be fun!”
She’s impossible to resist. We did this many nights growing up, and I never crossed the line with her. I can do that again. What’s one more night?
“Scoot over,” I say, and she claps her hands a little before laying down, rolling to her side to face me.
I do the same thing, and she smiles. “We have ten years of secrets to catch up on,” she says. “Tell me yours.”
“I think I went first last time,” I say.
She totally buys that and starts talking. I listen to her tell me about how she secretly hated the earrings Luke bought her last Christmas, who she voted for in the last election, about how one time she put soda in her cup at a fast food restaurant when she only ordered water. She was feeling particularly guilty over that one.
She reaches up and plays with my hair a little, saying, “I have a secret I’ve kept from you, too.”
A dirty one, I hope!
“Christmas twenty years ago.” She stops, looking up at the ceiling, the simple math confusing her tipsy mind. “No, nineteen years. Maybe it was twenty-one.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I say, grinning. “Christmas when we were around seven or eight.”
“Yeah.” She cuddles closer, resting her head against my chest. The temptation just went up tenfold. “We both wanted new bikes, so we could ride to Malcolm and Maci’s neighborhood.”
“You wanted a pink one,” I say.
“You wanted neon green,” she says.
“That was the year I stopped believing in Santa Claus,” I say. “He didn’t bring either one of us a new bike.”
“I got a bike that year,” she whispers. I look down at her, pushing some of the hair out of her face. “I was so excited to tell you, but then you didn’t get one, so I lied to you.”
“I never saw a bike.”
“I told my parents that I didn’t understand why Santa would bring me a bike and not you. I was so upset. I told them you were good all year, better than me.”
A few tears roll down her face, and I wipe them away. “Skylar?”
“Mom and Dad broke the news to me about Santa Claus that day,” she says. “They told me your mom just couldn’t afford to get you a new one that year.”
My mom worked hard. I never went without anything I needed. My father died while serving our country. They were young, so he didn’t leave her with much, and I was just a b
aby. She talks about him like he was perfect. She’s spent the rest of her life trying to recapture what she had with him. I know it must’ve hurt her not to be able to get me that bike. She worked as a waitress most of my childhood. Tips were good in the peak summer season, but the winters could be rough.
“I asked my parents to take my bike back,” she says softly.
A pain hits my chest. I know how much she wanted that bike. I wanted one just as much. She was just a little kid. That’s empathy way beyond her years. Sparing my feelings was more important to her than her own wishes. She loved me that much.
“I didn’t want the bike if you couldn’t have one, too,” she says, yawning a little. “I wanted us to be together.”
Why did I ever let Luke ask her out? I’m a fucking idiot. Why did I let him stake some sort of claim to her? We were kids, for fuck’s sake. Yes, he’s my friend, but she’s my . . . She could be my . . .
I look down at her full, pink lips. Leaning in closer, I whisper her name. Her response is a soft, little snore, and I cover my mouth to keep from laughing. Snoring should not make me happy. I shouldn’t find it sweet, but with her it is. She is the forbidden fruit. The one woman in the whole garden who I’m not allowed to touch. Sure, she’s not with Luke anymore, but no friendship can survive when you date your friend’s ex.
Skylar or Luke?
It’s an easy choice now, but as a teenager, it wasn’t. Luke was my good friend. We played football together, hung out all the time. The five of us were inseparable. But Luke and his family were more than that. I’m not supposed to know. In fact, I don’t even know if Luke knows, but his parents paid for my high school tuition each year. There was no way my mom could afford the private school. Skylar would’ve been in the same boat except both her parents taught at the school, so they got a huge discount. Everyone, including my mom, thought I was on scholarship.
I guess I was. The Luke family scholarship.
It’s not a real thing, and I’m not supposed to know, but I overheard his mom and dad talking one day when we were all hanging out at his house. They covered my tuition all through high school simply because I was their son’s friend, they knew my mom struggled, they liked me, and they were exceptionally good people, just like their son. No way was I going to betray that and date the girl Luke liked.
A Gentleman for Christmas Page 4