“Give me a chance to show you,” he said, squeezing her tighter. “Just give me a chance to show you I’m not like every other dumb choice you’ve made. Everyone’s luck eventually changes, but you have to keep taking the risk.”
“What’s your suggestion? Should I swing my door open right now and let you in? We tear each other’s clothes off and every logical problem we’re likely to have gets put on hold? But it’s all still waiting there for us when we’re done.”
“Actually I was thinking of asking you on a date, I didn’t realize you were so willing to let me in. I would have aimed higher with my request if I’d known that were an option,” he trailed off, letting his crooked smile speak for him. He reached up to her face and tucked a loose lock of hair back behind her ear. “Can I pick you up Wednesday at six? Don’t expect too much, though, remember I’m unemployed now.”
“Me, too,” she sighed. “Aren’t we a fine pair of degenerates?”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek, lingering for a minute as he contemplated taking the kiss even further, down her neck across her collarbone. But he reined himself in.
“I’ll see you Wednesday,” she whispered into his ear as she stepped back, seeming to sense the impending escalation if she didn’t.
He hopped down the front steps and headed for his car. Wednesday felt too far away.
Chapter Four
21 Days Until Christmas
“Sean, that’s great news,” Chris exclaimed, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder. Since they’d moved to Illinois and he’d lost all the support he had for his son, he found himself multitasking like never before. He was currently slicking gel into his hair followed by his son’s, then slathering toothpaste on their two toothbrushes before looking for a missing sneaker, all while talking to his brother on the phone.
Sean was forty-five days sober. He’d spent time in a drug and alcohol treatment facility that focused on unhealthy sexual behavior. Chris had always known Sean to be a skirt chaser and a bit of a bully, but he hadn’t realized the extent to which his brother had gone to hurt women. One of the agreements he made for witness protection, though it wasn’t exactly in the contract, was to make sure Sean got the help he needed. So far, so good.
“So you’ll be home for Christmas then?” he asked, smiling down at Little Chris who he knew would be pleased with this. “I guess I should get used to calling you Sean King. Jason, our witness protection coordinator, is still pretty pissed at us for not taking the first names he gave us in our relocation instructions. He said it would be well within his right to kick us out of the program, but I know they’re desperate to keep us safe at least as long as we have information to help prosecute everyone back in Edenville. I had a little legal snag the other day and he bailed me out, buried the whole thing, but damn was he mad.”
“Daddy, that’s two swears, you have to put money in the swear jar again.” Chris rolled his eyes at his son and dug the money out of his pocket.
“Sean, I’ve got to get going. I’m glad you’re going to be here for the holidays. I’m really hoping we can have something worth celebrating, maybe finally make some memories as a family that don’t involve someone throwing a ham out the window.”
Chris hung up the phone and took one last look in the mirror. He wasn’t sure if it was possible to actually look younger, but since the stress of his old life had started falling away, he felt like it took years off him.
“Okay, buddy, you have your stuff ready? We’ve got a date to go on.” They shuffled out the door into the cold, cutting air and hopped in the car.
The ride to Sydney’s was full of normal conversations. Little Chris would pose a question that would start a landslide of back and forth.
“Dad, why do some people pick on other people?”
Chris fielded the inquiry smoothly. “Well, most of the time, when people treat others badly, it means they don’t like themselves very much.”
“Why?”
“They feel so bad about who they are that they take it out on anyone who gets in their way.”
Little Chris didn’t look convinced. “Why would they be mean to other people just because they aren’t happy?”
“They’re cowards,” Chris replied, giving his son the abbreviated explanation as he pulled into Sydney’s driveway. “Now, remember, Sydney doesn’t know where we’re going, so don’t say anything. I think she’s going to be really excited.” Chris hoped he was right. He needed this date to go off without a hitch, and he felt his heart race with anticipation and the hope that Sydney would have a good time.
Chris hadn’t warned Sydney that his son would be along for their date. He actually assumed it might make her more comfortable. But when her door swung open and she stood in a black cocktail dress and beautiful dangling crystal necklace, he realized they’d crossed wires here. He was wearing a T-shirt and jeans and so was his son. Just as he expected to put this on the list of things that had gone terribly wrong on date number one, he saw her smile.
“Oh, thank goodness. This dress is so uncomfortable. You guys have a seat on the couch. I need to go pry myself out of this and slip into something more comfortable. Her eyes met Chris’s. They were lit with amusement as he heard the old cliché. “You know what I meant,” she said, pointing her finger at him.
Chris took a quick survey of her little house. It was older, the paint and cabinetry dated, but he saw so many little things that gave the place life, like the trinkets and knick-knacks that his house lacked.
Sydney reemerged from her bedroom wearing jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt that fit her perfectly. It was the first time he’d seen her in casual clothes. Even the other day when he had stopped by, she was wearing dress pants and a sweater, as though she had woken up that day, readied for work and then remembered they didn’t want her there anymore.
She looked incredible. Her makeup was still slightly overdone for where they were heading. Her swirling blue eyes were highlighted perfectly with a smoky gray shadow and her lips were still pink despite having wiped most of the ruby red lipstick away. Something about her casual clothes and the shimmering makeup was incredibly hot.
“Where are we headed?” she asked, pulling on her long black winter coat and wrapping her scarf around her neck.
“It’s a surprise,” Little Chris shouted with far too much enthusiasm. “That means I’m not supposed to tell you even though I really want to.”
“Well I love surprises,” she said, helping the boy back into the coat he’d shimmied out of just moments earlier. As she stood behind him she locked eyes with Chris and silently mouthed, “I hate surprises.”
Chris laughed. “Perfect, then we’re off to a great start, buddy. I told you this was going to be the best date ever.”
They piled into Chris’s car and started on the hour-long ride. “I’m not sure I’ve ever gone this far for a date before. This must be something very special.”
“It is,” the boy beamed, his enthusiastic smile brightening his whole face. And it was apparently contagious. Sydney was smiling widely as well.
“Wait,” she blurted as Chris took an exit off the highway. “We’re going into Chicago? I wouldn’t go this way, there’s a game tonight. The traffic will be awful.”
The boy broke into a giggle in the back seat and Chris shot a fake scolding look at him. “You’re going to blow our cover,” he said out the side of his mouth, reaching between the seats and tickling his son’s knee.
“Are we going to a Bulls game?” Sydney asked, looking back and forth between the two of them, waiting for one to break.
“We are,” Chris said evenly, though inside he was panicked. Had he made the right choice?
“I haven’t been at a game in years. I’m a huge fan, how did you know?”
“There were a few hints. A couple of times when I was in your office I saw you had the stats up on your computer from the previous night’s game. And that picture behind your desk, you’re wearing a necklace with a Chicag
o Bulls charm.”
Sydney shot him a quizzical look before turning her attention to Little Chris. “My dad used to take me when I was your age,” she said warmly. Chris mentally crossed his fingers, hoping she found it endearing and not creepy that he’d noticed such small details.
“So why haven’t you gone since then?” Little Chris asked in his poignant and innocent way.
“It’s a funny thing being a girl and a sports fan. Guys don’t always like it so much when you know more about something than they do, especially sports. So I kind of just stopped going to games when I got older. But I never miss a game on television.”
“My Dad doesn’t mind if you like sports. He’s not like that. You can tell because he brought you here.”
“How much are you paying this kid?” she joked with a smile at Chris, before turning her attention back to his son. “You, my friend, should ask for a raise.”
As they pulled their car into the reserved parking spot, Chris watched Sydney take note of the sign that read, “VIP Parking.”
“VIP? We don’t have courtside tickets do we?”
“We do,” Chris said, pulling them from his pocket. They hadn’t cost him any money. They were bartered. He had promised Jason he would not get into any trouble for the rest of the year in exchange for the tickets. It wasn’t exactly by the book, but when working with a man like Chris you tended to be unconventional.
“Oh my gosh,” she squealed, not able to contain her joy as she scrambled out of the car. “I can’t believe this. We are at the United Center with floor seats. I can’t believe you did this!” She looped her arm around Chris’s so naturally that he almost forgot this was their first date. His son, with his mittened hands, was hanging on his other side, and for the first time in a long time, Chris felt balanced.
“My last few first dates have all been to the ballet or the opera. I swear I must give off a pretty pretentious vibe because that’s apparently where guys think I want to go. But really, I’d do just about anything for a pretzel and the sound the basketball thumping against the court.”
Again Chris’s eyes met hers and now they both laughed at how many jokes could be made if there wasn’t an eight-year-old within earshot.
They entered the stadium, shoulder to shoulder with hundreds of other fans flooding in and searching for their seats. Chris pulled his son in close to him. He felt Sydney’s delicate hand on his back as they switched to single file to move through the crowd. When they finally reached their seats, he saw Sydney hesitate, frozen for a moment.
“Are you okay?” he asked, trying to follow her gaze to see what was the matter.
“I’m fine,” she said, shaking the memory away. “The last time I was here with my father we had so much fun. Our seats weren’t nearly as good, but we loaded up on concession stand food. We bet each other on the score using pieces of our pretzels. I had the time of my life.”
“Wow, that does sound like fun.”
“My father used to own a sports cards and memorabilia store. I spent a lot of time in there, watching and listening to all the people who’d come in, trying to complete their collections or get in on the ground floor of something that was a sure thing. Unfortunately, the one thing that wasn’t a sure thing was my father’s store. When my parents got divorced he couldn’t afford to buy my mother out and she forced him to sell it, along with most of his personal collection, too. My mother didn’t fight fair.”
“Sounds rough. Does he ever think he’ll start the business back up again? They say it’s never too late to do something you love.”
“They, clearly hadn’t factored in a massive heart attack that kills you at fifty-two, because, as far as I can tell, it’s too late to do what he loved.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Chris rubbed her back gently. “Is your mom still living?”
“She is. She married a guy named Merk,” she said with a grin.
“Do you mean Mark?”
“No, the guy’s name is Merk. And if that sounds kind of douchey to you, then you’ve hit the nail on the head. As far as I can tell, my mom is pretty much with him because he keeps her living the lifestyle she’s grown accustomed to. They live down in Springfield where I grew up. I make it a point to only go home when I absolutely have to.”
Much to Chris and Sydney’s amusement, Little Chris was chatting animatedly with the beautiful woman to his right, telling her all about the paper airplane he made once that flew right over the house.
“Are you going home for Christmas?” Chris asked Sydney, hoping the answer would be no. The holiday had been a nightmare every year without fail for Chris and his family. This year he had hopes of his son, brother, and Sydney sitting down for a nice meal. Maybe if all the stars aligned it would even be reminiscent of the only good Christmases he’d ever had, those spent with his nonna when he was a boy.
“I don’t celebrate Christmas,” Sydney explained, reaching over to steal some of Little Chris’s popcorn.
“Oh, you’re Jewish?” Chris asked, still willing to roll with the punches. Maybe it would be nice to expose his son to the different traditions of the holiday season.
“No. I don’t celebrate any of the holidays. I gave it up ten years ago.”
“It’s not a hamburger. You can’t give up Christmas and say it like you just became a vegetarian. Why on earth would you give up something as amazing as Christmas? If you say society has bastardized and commercialized it, Charlie Brown, I’m going to have to take you out right now to get a puny tree just so I can show you how wonderful it could look when decorated.”
“My parents split up when I was fifteen. For the next three years they had epic battles every holiday season over who would be able to spend time with my brothers and me. They tried to divide the time, and us, the way you’d cut a pie. And, inevitably, no one was happy with their slice. I grew to hate this time of year, and when I was old enough I just stopped participating. I don’t buy gifts, I don’t do secret Santas at the office, and I don’t do mistletoe. I treat it like any other day of the year. I’ve been known to go to the movies or order takeout.”
“That’s honestly one of the most depressing things I’ve ever heard. Who chooses not to celebrate a holiday? I mean, you’ve got the music and the decorations. Some of my best memories are waking up at my nonna’s on Christmas morning. I tried to recreate it a few times but my wife left when Chris was young, and Sean just kept finding new ways to screw things up.”
“Sean is your brother?” Sydney asked, taking note of the fact that Chris hadn’t said much about him yet.
“Yes. He’s in rehab right now. He’s got some pretty serious problems, but he’s forty-five days sober, and he’s planning on coming home for Christmas. I’m nervous. Four years ago he got so wasted he threw up on the presents. The year after that he disappeared and we spent the whole day trying to find him. He turned up in the hospital, nearly overdosing. Then there was the year he threw the ham out the window of my house because he said it was looking at him funny. He used to stay clean for long periods of time. As a matter of fact, there were times he was responsible for taking care of Little Chris while I was at work, but every year around the holidays he really loses it.”
“See, I’m not the only one who has a problem with them.”
“My folks were killed just before Christmas.”
“Oh Chris,” Sydney said, her hand falling onto his leg.
“It was a tough time for us. Every year since then I’ve been trying to create something that feels as good as it did when I was a kid, and Sean has been ruining it. This is the first time he’s coming out of rehab and I’m trying to give my son a Christmas to remember. I was hoping you’d be around to help. If I’d realized you have a little shriveled up heart like the Grinch I might have reconsidered our date.”
“I don’t have a little shriveled heart. I just have a large enough brain to realize that all that warm and fuzzy Christmas cheer is fleeting. You see the carolers, the eggnog, and the reindeer. I
see the crowded malls, the ungrateful kids, and the traveling. I think it’s sweet that you want to give your son something to remember, something to believe in. He deserves that, but I’m a grown-up, I’ve already seen too much to ever go back to feeling that Christmas excitement.”
“Tell me what your last great Christmas was, give me something redeeming here so I know you’re at least human.”
“I don’t know, who remembers stuff like that?”
“I was nine. My father always insisted we spend Christmas at his mother’s house. We’d sleep there the night before. Sean and I shared a bed and I always remember acting like I hated it, but really I loved it. My nonna would come in and read ’Twas the Night Before Christmas to us and sneak us a little treat. A cookie or biscotti. I’d fight with every ounce of energy I had to stay awake long enough to hear the sounds of hooves on our roof, but I’d always fall asleep. My nonna had made us our own stockings. She sewed them herself. They had our names embroidered in them. Mine was red; Sean’s was green. She had even made some for our children one day and told us when the time came, if she wasn’t around, which she wasn’t, that we should have their names sewn on.”
“Did you?”
“I always planned to, but I never got around to it. We weren’t able to take a lot with us when we left, so I’m not even sure where they are now. What happens to your stuff when you go into witness protection? Who knows?” Chris was lost for a moment as he inventoried all the things and people he left behind. The buzzer rang out and it reminded them there was a game happening. Cheers roared around them but they were tucked in this little bubble, swimming in a room full of people, yet feeling he was completely connected to only her.
Choosing Christmas (A Piper Anderson Novella) (Piper Anderson Series) Page 4