A Crazy Christmas

by B. Cranford

  “Performed quality control testing on our condom stash?”

  “Yep.”

  “Thanks for that, by the way.”

  “I live to serve.” Jade laughed, before continuing, “So you think this is okay for the party and the wedding? I know it’s not terribly girly of me, but I don’t want fuss or craziness—more so than normal, anyway—and I really don’t want to have to go shopping again.”

  “Honestly? No. I don’t think you should wear it to the party. Let Declan see it for the first time on your wedding day, Jay. He’s going to be floored.”

  “But the party?”

  “I know just the thing.”

  Two Weeks Before Christmas

  Jade smoothed her hands down the black silky fabric of her dress—Brighton’s dress—and took a deep breath. Their sizes were similar enough that it clung in all the right places, and a quick glance in the mirror told her that she looked good.

  Better than good, actually.

  She looked great, if she did say so herself.

  He won’t know what hit him, she thought, eyeing the bright yellow heels that encased her feet—and that had walked her through some of her best memories with Declan.

  “Freckles, are you—holy shit.” The look on her fiancé’s face made Jade want to alternate preening for him with jumping into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist and convincing him that this party was wholly unnecessary.

  They could have a party of their own.

  “You are stunning.” Declan slowly perused her body, his eyes practically stroking her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes as he took in the black material, the subtle make-up, the flash of her engagement ring and—“Of course it’s those shoes. Of-fucking-course.” He pressed a palm against the growing bulge in his dress pants, a move that sent a tingle of awareness to every nerve ending in Jade’s body.

  “I know they’re your favorite,” was all she managed to reply before his mouth was on hers, his arms wrapping around her body, his hands grabbing her ass and squeezing in a blatantly possessive move. His arousal was hard between them, pressing into Jade’s stomach, causing a moan muffled by the meeting of their lips to escape.

  “Please, Dec.”

  “Please what, sweetheart?” He pulled back from the kiss just enough to pepper her face with gentle brushes of his lips—she knew he was kissing the marks that dotted her nose, forehead, chin.

  Everywhere. Her freckles were everywhere.

  And there wasn’t a single one he hadn’t kissed.

  “I want you,” she breathed, the need making her words sound as though they could just float away, unheard but not unheeded.

  He would give her what she wanted; she’d make sure of it.

  “Always.” It was a whisper in her ear, as Declan’s mouth loved the tender spot just below the lobe. “I will always want you.”

  “Okay then, now,” she begged, trying to pull his shirt loose from the waistband of his pants, only to be stopped by his strong hands wrapping around her wrists.

  “Not now. Later. When I have time to enjoy.”

  “You wouldn’t enjoy it now?” she asked, fluttering innocent eyelashes at him, deliberately misinterpreting his words.

  “You know I would, spitfire. But we have a party to go to, I have a fiancée to show off, and then, when we get home, I have hours to play with you.” He paused, locking his gaze with hers and narrowing his eyes minutely. “And if you’re a good girl, I might even let you touch me.”

  A wanton sound filled the air around them as Jade’s knees began to weaken.

  How does he always know how to do that? She wondered, marveling that he forever had the words to make her body capitulate to him.

  “But . . .”

  “No buts. You look too fucking good to stay in tonight.”

  “But—”

  “No,” he interrupted, stroking down her arm and joining their hands, fingers interlocked.

  “Jackass.” It was a mutter, false disdain laced into the word that had started as a statement of fact and had, over time, become Jade’s affectionate nickname for the man who made her crazy—and who loved her like crazy.

  “Yep. Now let’s go.” A small pat on her ass with his free hand, and she was being led from their bedroom to her doom.

  Also known as this Christmas party . . .

  Declan looked around the crowded ballroom, men and women littering the dancefloor, the bar and the tables that edged the walls. Loud chatter reached his ears, and he looked over to Jade at his side, unable to hide the smile that formed when he saw her less-than-impressed look.

  He suspected her mind was still back in their bedroom where, if she’d had her way, they’d still be. Just in far less in clothing.

  She looked back at him in that same moment and her scowl became a reluctant smile, which then morphed into a real one—one that met the hazel of her eyes, adding a little sparkle there—when the song playing changed to one he knew she loved.

  The one she’d told him was her favorite.

  And though Songbird wasn’t a Christmas tune, it was one rife with good memories for his girl, so he led them to the dancefloor and pulled her in close.

  “Shouldn’t you be talking to people? Making deals and money and all that?”

  He shrugged. Maybe, but he wanted to be right where he was. “But if I did that, how would I get my hands on this body, huh?” He punctuated his words by running his hand along Jade’s back, enjoying the way she responded with a shiver.

  She hummed along as they swayed and spun, and Declan felt the rightness of the moment.

  When the song ended, they walked together toward the bar, Jade silently taking in the room around them, Declan giving small nods of acknowledgment to familiar faces. And as the night continued, he made sure to not leave her side for any longer than necessary, enjoying introducing her to people as his fiancée.

  It was perfect.

  Until it wasn’t.

  “You’re still together? I wouldn’t have guessed that.” The ice-cold voice came from behind them, one that was familiar enough to Declan that he couldn’t control his cringe. And, judging by the look on Jade’s face, one that was even more familiar—and unwelcome—to her.

  He turned slowly, his hand squeezing Jade’s tightly, making sure she felt his support, but not wanting to say, or do, anything that might undermine her, or make her discomfort greater.

  “Chris,” Jade spoke first, having cleared her face of any expression as they’d spun around. “Or should I call you Cee-Cee these days?”

  Cee-Cee Moore was a business acquaintance of Declan’s, one he should have anticipated would be in attendance that night. She was also Jade’s ex-girlfriend—a woman who didn’t just break her heart when she left, but who effectively stomped on it, until it was so bruised and shattered, Jade struggled to move on.

  This woman was the reason Declan had had to fight so hard, for so long, to win his girl’s heart.

  The noise Cee-Cee made in response to Jade’s question was delicate, a stark contrast to the hard look she presented. Ice-blonde hair. Frigid blue eyes. A mouth set in what had to be the most perfect version of “resting bitch face” Declan had ever seen.

  Not that he’d seen it much. In fact, until the day Jade and Brighton had explained it to him, he’d never seen it. Or, at least, he’d never recognized it.

  “I see congratulations are in order,” Cee-Cee said, her words dripping with disdain, her gaze focused pointedly on Jade’s pink diamond ring. “It’s a big commitment. Are you sure it’s one you want to make?” She was looking at Declan as she spoke, her intention obvious.

  She thought being tied to Jade forever was a bad thing.

  Declan knew it was the best thing that could ever happen to him.

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything, actually.” His words were calm, but his heart set to racing the moment he realized that he was losing Jade.

  Her eyes were shifting away, moving around the room too
fast for her to be seeing anything. Her posture stiffened, no doubt in response to Cee-Cee’s cruel implication.

  And her mouth—the one he’d watched smile politely and laugh genuinely as they’d talked to person after person throughout the evening—was flat.

  He didn’t need to see inside her head to know that her demons were lining up to pitch doubt after doubt at her.

  “Why?” Jade’s voice was as shaky as it was quiet, and for Declan, the pain in that simple question felt like a physical blow. He squeezed at her hand again, hoping that he could pull her away from this moment, wanting that small connection to shield her from what was coming.

  Because he sensed something big was coming.

  “Why what?”

  God, the amount of judgment that Chris managed to cram into two words was amazing. Remarkable, really.

  “Why do you hate me so much?” Jade asked, hating that she had to know, that she couldn’t stop herself from asking. That even though she loved and was loved in return, this woman still had the power to send her crashing down, down, down.

  Probably because you’re nothing. No one. Just a bump along the way to better things.

  No, no. She tried valiantly to fight back, but the voices were there now. They’d been given admittance, and she didn’t know how to rescind their invitation.

  Not completely. Not yet.

  Come on. Did you really think that happily ever after was yours to have? I can’t believe you let yourself fall for that.

  No one who wants happily ever after wants it with you.

  Outside of her mind, she knew that Chris was speaking. The chill that brought goosebumps to the surface of her skin was a sign of that. As was the way Declan, strong, sure, perfect Declan held himself upright beside her.

  He was her pillar.

  But she was crumbling all the same.

  She forced herself to listen to the words, needing to see this through. The question had been asked—now the answer needed to be heard.

  “I don’t hate you. I feel sorry for you, though. Always so unsure of yourself. So needy. So . . . uh, I don’t know. It was exhausting, being with you. Fun, sure, at times. You’re still the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, but it wasn’t enough.” Chris sighed as if put upon, then continued, “I just didn’t have—or want—the patience to keep you going all the time.” She flicked her hand, making the comment seem like a throwaway line, instead of an arrow straight to the heart—straight to Jade’s heart.

  She opened her mouth to speak, but before she had the chance, Declan cut in. “You’re a bitch, Cee-Cee.” Jade gasped, knowing that Declan was taking up for her because he knew that she couldn’t. Not right then.

  He doesn’t trust you to handle yourself.

  No, no, she repeated once more. He just knows I need him right now.

  And just like Chris, he’ll get tired of that soon enough.

  Jade pinched her eyes closed, wishing the voices would disappear into the black. Her body was locking down completely now, her breathing become increasingly rough, her mind taking over her common sense.

  Escape, escape.

  I need to escape.

  “Excuse me.” She forced out the words, relieved to know they sounded steadier than her original question.

  “Freckles.” Declan’s name for her made her falter momentarily, as did the tightening of his hold on her hand, but soon enough she broke free.

  And walked on unsteady yellow heels from the room.

  “I don’t know what your problem is, but you know what? Fuck you. Jade might not be perfect, but she’s a good person. She’s smart, and she’s kind. She’s funny, and she’s fucking beautiful. And she’s mine.” Declan gritted his teeth, pushing the words out in a low, angry tone so as not to draw attention to himself. “You, on the other hand, are a bitter, bitter human being. Next time you see me, or her, or us, somewhere, walk the other way. Merry fucking Christmas, Cee-Cee.”

  Cee-Cee’s expression barely changed as Declan said his piece, but he didn’t care. He only cared about following Jade as quickly as possible.

  Getting her home and in his arms, their bed, and back to herself.

  No doubt the voices had her trapped for now, but he knew how to help her.

  And, dammit, she knew how to help herself, too. She was strong enough, she just needed a reminder of that.

  He didn’t acknowledge anyone on the way out, as he had on their way in. He merely stopped at their table for the briefest moment to collect Jade’s little bag and then followed the path she’d taken out the main doors of the ballroom, through the reception area, and out into the cold night.

  She was sitting off to the right, on the bottom step of a staircase that seemed to lead to an employee entrance. He approached quickly, desperate to get to her not just because of what happened moments earlier, but because the air was frigid, and her slinky dress was no match for the wintery night.

  “Jade.” He removed his jacket and draped it across her shoulders, leaning in to plant a kiss on her temple. “Hey, talk to me.”

  “She really is a bitch, isn’t she?” Her words were stronger than the ones she’d used to excuse herself, which was a good sign, and the blunt honesty of the statement made him laugh.

  “And that’s being nice,” he offered in response, watching her lips curve up into a small smile.

  A small smile was still a smile, and a victory as far as he was concerned.

  “Let’s go home, sweetheart.” He stood and held out a hand to help her to her feet, the jolt he always got when they touched warming his body. “It’s cold as hell out here.”

  “I’m sorry.” She pressed her body into his, and he didn’t know if she was apologizing for leaving the party or for the frosty temperatures, but either way—

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”

  “I shouldn’t have left. Let her drive me away.”

  “You did what you needed to. That’s all that matters.”

  “I’m still crazy. And not just a little bit.”

  “And I’m still crazy about you, not just a little bit. What’s your point?” He worried about where her mind was going, though all the signs were telling him she was fighting back.

  Maybe the signs were liars.

  “Just that . . . you shouldn’t have to deal with me. I shouldn’t still let her get to me like that.” She took a deep breath and looked poised to continue, so Declan held back his words. But man, he wanted to correct her.

  Deal with her? There’s nothing I want more than that, if it means being with her.

  “But, here’s the thing. I can’t let you go. So, yeah. That’s what I’m sorry for. I feel like I should be walking away, like maybe that’s what’s best, but also”—she cleared her throat, looking like she needed just a minute before she could continue—“I don’t want to. I love you. I love you so much. You’re my—you’re mine and the doctor told me I should let myself have what I want, and I want you.”

  “Well, thank God for that, because we’re getting married in two weeks and if you thought I was just going to agree to you letting me go, you’d have been wrong. Really fucking wrong.

  “I don’t need to be let go, Jay. If I wanted to walk away, I would. But I wouldn’t do it like her.” He practically spat the word “her” out, hating that one person could cause so much strife. “In fact, no, I wouldn’t do it at all. I want to ‘deal’ with you. I want to. You can’t take that away from me.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay? Just like that?”

  “Yes. Just like that.” She smiled up at him, her eyes clear of hurt and doubt and anger. “I’m learning.”

  He returned the smile, holding her a little tighter because their night had been derailed, but they’d somehow managed to get it back on track, and damn, if he wasn’t relieved as hell.

  “But I still want to go home,” she added. “I want to touch you. I think I’ve been a good girl.”

  Declan’s dick perked up at her words, a
s did his ears. She wanted to touch him, but he had something else in mind, so he made a point to kiss her softly, then captured her bottom lip between his teeth, biting down and releasing so she knew who was in charge.

  “I don’t know about that, Freckles.”

  One Week Before Christmas

  Declan: Hey man, how’re your girls doing?

  Sebastian: Stella’s all better. Thank fuck.

  Sebastian: Babies don’t come with a projectile vomiting warning and they really should.

  Declan: It’s common sense, dude.

  Sebastian: It’s stressful, is what it is. Her little face breaks my heart.

  Declan: Going soft on me?

  Sebastian: Fuck you. When you have a kid and they’re awake all night and crying and burning up and Jade’s crying, come tell me I’m soft for feeling stressed and sad.

  Sebastian: Asshole.

  Declan: Hey, hey now. I was just kidding. Touchy.

  Sebastian: *middle finger emoji*

  Declan: Right, so, I have a favor to ask.

  Sebastian: No.

  Declan: Dude, come on. I was kidding.

  Sebastian: I’m not.

  Declan: How long have we been friends?

  Sebastian: Long enough that I feel comfortable saying no.

  Sebastian: And also, fuck you.

  Declan: But no means yes sometimes.

  Sebastian: No never means yes, haven’t you been paying attention?

  Declan: Oh FFS, forget it.

  Sebastian gave it a minute before he called his friend, greeting him in the traditional way. “Asshole. What do you need?”

  “I’m doing great this morning, thanks for asking,” was the response, making it clear that, despite their ribbing, they were on good terms. “I had something made for Jade. For Christmas.”

  “You finally figured out what to get her, huh?” Sebastian laughed, thinking about how clueless Declan had been when trying to figure his shit out for Christmas.

  “Yeah, laugh it up, dude. I bet you struggled with Brighton at first.”