“Happy Christmas,” Tom says.
I grin. “Happy Christmas. How was the party at your grandmother’s?”
“Absolutely brilliant. So many cousins and family I haven’t seen in a long time.” He slurs his words.
“Are you drunk?”
“Little bit. Okay, I’m totally pissed. You can blame my brother for that too. I’m such a lightweight these days. I can’t begin to keep up with those sots.”
I laugh. His English accent is much stronger. I suppose it’s due to the alcohol and being surrounded by his family. He tells me about his relatives, and the challenges of being a stage actor in shows that most of them will never see.
“I’m an oddity to the rest of them with their desk jobs and Monday through Friday schedule,” he says. I could be one of those people soon too. In fact, now that I’m back at my apartment, I’m forced to think more about my own job future and the need to get back in the game.
“Did you get out with your friends today?” he asks.
I’m glad he can’t see me because I hate to lie, but I also don’t want him to feel bad that I’m on my own this Christmas. It’s happened before, and while it’s a drag, I’ll get through it.
“Yeah.” And then I change the subject. “You wouldn’t believe how weird it is coming home after nearly four months away. I’m going through drawers and my closet. I don’t know why I even have half the stuff I’ve accumulated.”
We talk for another ten minutes about the craziness of watching his niece and nephew and how much it means to him to see his grandmother again.
“It’s great to be home, but I miss you,” he says in a drowsy, inebriated slur.
My lonely heart aches. “I miss you too.”
“I better hang up before I fall asleep. We’ll Skype at 10 a.m. your time tomorrow?”
“I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I love you,” he says softly.
“I love you too.”
Christmas morning I wake to a quiet apartment and light snow. I stretch out and smile. Every kid in the city will be thrilled. At the allotted time, my computer screen flashes and suddenly Tom appears from thousands of miles away. He’s holding the most adorable baby. She has giant blue eyes that dominate her sweet face and spiky dark hair that sticks up. I giggle. “Oh my God! She’s adorable!”
“I know, right? Bella here is in a constant state of surprise.” He runs his hand over the top of her hair. It moves like feathers and bounces back.
“She is seriously the cutest baby I’ve ever seen.”
Tom kisses her cheek. “Hear that, Hannah,” he yells to someone off screen. “Chelsea says Bella’s ugly!”
“Don’t say that.” But I hear laughter in the background, so I guess it’s all right.
Bella reaches for his mouth, but he evades her. “This kid’s got an iron grip. Last night she had my ear in a death hold. I couldn’t get her off until Hannah bribed her with a biscuit.” He looks at the little cutie with such love, and then sniffs. He wrinkles his nose in disgust. “Hannah, Bella filled her nappy again.”
I laugh at his expression, then a miniature Spiderman jumps into view and yells, “Rahr!”
Tom cracks up. “And this is Jasper.”
“No, Unca Tom, I’m Spido-man,” the little superhero says.
Bella grabs for his mask and pulls. Jasper swats her. Tom is trying to hold the two apart.
A young woman appears and snatches the baby out of Jasper’s reach then bends to the screen. “Hello, you must be Chelsea. Happy Christmas! We’ve heard loads about you.”
I’m taken off guard at her unexpected appearance, and paste on what I hope resembles a natural smile.
“This is my sister, Hannah, mother to the adorable demon children.”
“Hi,” I say to the pretty blonde with sandy-colored hair that matches Tom’s.
“My brother best be nice to you. If he’s not, you let me know. I could take him down when he was seven, and I can certainly take him down at twenty-seven.”
Tom rolls his eyes.
I laugh. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”
Hannah disappears and Tom peeks back at me. “Forgive me, love, but the whole lot wants to meet you.”
Before I can object, his laptop is being passed around and I’m faced with one stranger after another. They all know who I am, but I can’t keep track of them. His mother pops in with a cheery hello, and his grandmother smiles sweetly and tells me Tom is a lovely boy. Then suddenly he’s back.
“That’s all you get,” he yells at his family and the noise of their banter grows distant. “Okay. I’m in my room with the door shut. At least it used to be my room before Mum turned into a craft hut. Sorry for putting you on the spot there, but thanks. You’re a novelty.” He settles onto his bed and seems so happy.
“Why’s that?”
“They’ve never met anyone I’ve dated before. Add to that the fact that you’re American, beautiful, and a woman.”
“Oh, were they expecting a dude?” I laugh.
“Let’s just say that after spending my life singing and dancing, I could never totally convince my dad and brother I’m straight.”
“Maybe you should have introduced them to a girl sooner.”
He gets a cock-eyed grin. “But where’s the fun in that.” He settles onto his bed and leans back, relaxed. “You know, when you and I are done talking, I think I’ll show them some of your Celebrity Dance Off videos, so they can see the real you.”
“Oh, God, please don’t.” But he grins and I know he will. “You look good,” I say.
“You like my new jumper?” He looks down at his sweater. “I got three. No one knows what to buy me. Oh and several pair of socks, and new underwear, of course. Wait till you see them all.”
I want to reach through the screen and touch him. “Time off has been good for you.”
“It has. I just wish you could have been here with me.”
“I know.” Maybe next time, I hope.
“So what are you doing today?”
“I’m trying to decide what show to binge watch. Do I go for a Gilmore Girls marathon, or a classic like Alias? My mom’s favorite. Plus it has Bradley Cooper.”
“Aren’t you going to be with friends?” He asks, confused.
I realize my mistake. “Nah. Most are out of town. The others are busy with their families. I’ll probably order Chinese later.”
He sits up, his relaxed demeanor gone. “Aw hell, Chelsea. You shouldn’t be spending Christmas alone.”
“I’m not. I have you.” I give him my best effort at nonchalance, but he sees through it.
“But I thought—"
“Tom, it’s fine.” He blames himself for me being alone, which is ridiculous. “I have plenty to do here. It’s snowing out. Here, look.”
I carry the laptop to the window. “Maybe I’ll make a snowman later.”
“God, Chelsea. This isn’t right.”
I shrug and change the subject. “Tell me how your dad liked his gift.”
Tom sighs, and we talk for a half hour more. Jasper appears again and shows me his new truck. When we say goodbye, our hearts are heavy, but we’ll both be back in New York in four more days.
* * *
Here I am talking about all my silly gifts while Chelsea is alone in Iowa for Christmas, with no siblings or parents to share the day; no grandmother to put cash in an envelope for her; and no noisy family gatherings with loads of rich food and too much booze.
Why didn’t I realize this would happen? I guess because I didn’t think too much about leaving until the last minute. I just wanted to be with Chelsea and then I was excited about coming home.
I return to the kitchen and grab a glass of ice water. Mum’s loading the dishwasher for another round. “Everything okay? You seem down.”
I catch her up and she feels as bad as I do.
“That poor girl,” Mum says.
“I’m such an ass. She has no one and then I abando
n her on the holidays.”
“I’m sure that’s not how she sees it.”
“No. She doesn’t.” I wonder how she’s spent her holidays all the years since her grandfather died.
“I know it’s not much, but I wanted to send some of my homemade jewelry back for her. It’ll be a belated Christmas gift, something to open,” she says.
“That’s lovely, Mum. Thank you.” But it’s not enough and suddenly all that matters is that I get back to her. “Would you be terribly upset if I left early?”
She’s about to object, but then looks at me and stops herself. “This girl means that much to you?”
“She’s everything.” And being away has cemented that.
Mum smiles and kisses my cheek. “Well then, we best call the airline.”
“You’re not mad?” I don’t want to hurt her too, but she smiles knowingly.
“I’ve had you for the past three days, and as much as I’d like to keep you here, your life is in New York. Go follow your heart.”
29
New York City
By some odd timing, Tom beats me back to New York. As I ride the escalator to baggage claim, I spot him waiting with an eager grin. I can’t help myself. I run to him, drop my carry-on bag at his feet, and jump into his arms. He buries his head in my neck and squeezes me tight.
“And I was afraid you wouldn’t miss me,” he says, setting me back on my feet.
“Only a little,” I tease. He smells delicious, exactly how I remember, and he hasn’t shaved in a couple days, so he has that extra relaxed, I don’t give a damn, air about him. But based on how we can’t look away from each other, I’d say he definitely does.
He kisses me quick and picks up my bag as we wander to the carousel for my suitcases. I don’t know how long I’m here for, but I’ve come prepared to stay at least until I go home for Anna’s wedding in early February.
Back at the apartment he showers me with gifts of Cadbury chocolate, which apparently is much better when from the UK, and jewelry from his mother. “She didn’t have to do that,” I say admiring her creations. I’ve only talked to her the once, but I can see she’s a lovely woman.
“Mum loves to spoil. She also sent along fudge and some of her biscuits.”
“And I brought you cheese.” I laugh. Since there is no food in the place, we snack on cookies, cheese and chocolate.
The next three days are sweet perfection as Tom doesn’t have to work. He hasn’t told anyone he came home early, so we’re in a cocoon of uninterrupted bliss. We go to dinner at normal times, like normal people. We try cooking together, which ends up with burned chicken when he distracts me into the bedroom. He’s happier and the most laid back I’ve ever seen him.
One afternoon I’m curled up on the couch pretending to read while Tom's playing guitar by the window. The light casts shadows on the contours of his face. I love watching him when he’s unaware. His hands masterfully handle the strings strumming sweet hollow tones. His mouth is soft and his eyes lowered in untroubled thought. I revel in the moment as the soothing sounds roll over me like waves of silk.
But reality returns when he goes back to work on December 30th. It’s a two-show day and he’s itchy all morning to get to the theatre after being off for a week.
“Excited?” I tease.
He grins. “Does it show? You know what they say, absence makes the heart grow fonder.”
But he gets a call that takes the smile off his face. He takes it in the bedroom and I hear quiet murmurs and wonder who and what has brought him down. But he’s back in a minute and slides his phone onto the table.
“That was my agent. I didn’t get the part,” he says in a subdued voice, the disappointment shows in his slumped shoulders.
“Is that the final call back you had the day we went for tea?”
He nods. “It was for a big budget movie. It would have launched my career to the next level.”
“I’m sorry.” I’ve never seen him look so dejected, and part of me feels that maybe I jinxed his chances by talking about the audition when he didn’t want to.
“It’s fine. I’ll keep trying. They probably wanted someone older, or younger, or maybe with dark hair instead of light. There’ll be something out there for me. I just have to hit more auditions. A lot more.”
I give him a hug. He’s so talented. I can’t imagine why he wouldn’t be cast.
New Year’s Eve in Times Square is a mass of humanity, so most Broadway shows only have matinees or go dark for the night. We take the subway uptown to Paige's. Outside her door we hear a roar from the party inside. I grimace. All the people in that room know each other, except me.
“Are you nervous?” Tom asks, as if it never dawned on him I might be.
“Yeah.” I give him the look. “Everyone from your cast and crew is in there.”
He laughs and gives my shoulder a squeeze. “They’re harmless.”
They are all fantastically talented and gorgeous. I arch an eyebrow his direction.
“Okay. I guess not everyone is normal. Bill, one of the sound engineers, likes to tell dirty jokes, and Eileen, the props master has unusually bad breath, but supposedly it’s from a cauliflower diet she swears by. Then there’s Tanya. She’s just...Tanya.”
“This feels like Celebrity Dance Off all over again. I should have had a drink before we came.”
He rubs my back. “You’ll be fine. Everyone will love you.”
When no one answers the door, Tom lets us in, and, as soon as he’s noticed, the crowd lets out a cheer. Attending with the star of the show feels like a spotlight just focused on me too.
Paige finds her way to us and after quick hugs, gathers our coats. “Great dress,” she says admiring my little black number. “Welcome. The bar’s around the corner.”
We’re handed drinks and whisked around the apartment meeting too many people to keep track of. There’s plenty of spouses and girlfriends and boyfriends, which makes keeping people straight even more difficult.
Tom is pulled away and I’m cornered by a frizzy-haired woman from wardrobe and her pals, then handed a cosmo by a couple handsome young guys from the ensemble. Turns out that being Tom's girlfriend makes me popular. I’m asked about Celebrity Dance Off, how I like New York, and will I be auditioning for anything soon. I down my drink and respond with great, great, and never.
Finally, Tom appears and saves me from Ms. Cauliflower Breath. We escape to the bar. “You’re quite the hit.” He gives me one of his steamy smiles, caresses my bare shoulder, and whispers, “You’re gorgeous in that frock, but it’ll look even better pooled on the floor when I get you home.”
My breath hitches and he kisses my neck.
“Excuse me, you’re blocking the bar,” a testy voice says.
I jump away from Tom. He smiles boldly. We’re both a little juiced. “Sorry, Tanya. Do you remember Chelsea?”
She looks me over. “Sure. How are you?” she asks, but doesn’t even look at me.
“Fine. How are you?”
“Fantastic. Tom, can you order me a G&T? You know how I like it.”
He orders her drink and another cosmo for me.
Tanya scans the beautiful furnishings in the spacious apartment with a critical eye. “Paige and Greg have a great place. He must be making bank to afford a place like this. I wonder why Paige keeps working.”
“Here you go,” Tom hands Tanya a drink and ignores her comment.
She takes a sip and leans in close. “You know, it’s been too long since Paige called out and I got to play opposite you.”
Tom evades her. “Yes, well. Paige is a consummate professional. Oh, look. There’s Greg. Chelsea, you haven’t met Paige's husband yet. You’re going to love him. He works in publishing. Catch you later, Tanya.”
We grab our drinks and escape to the other side of the apartment. “Is she intense, or is it me?”
“She’s been under the illusion that she and I are going to be an item someday.”
I gulp my drink and do a double take. “Oh. I hope she’s wrong.”
“Me too. I can’t imagine waking up to that,” he snickers and escorts me to a tall thin man with curly short hair holding court with the stage manager I met earlier.
“Chelsea, I’d like you to meet Greg Hamilton, Paige's husband.”
Greg offers his hand. “Great to meet you. Paige has told me so much about you.”
I glance at Tom, who smiles, and then back to Greg, wondering how much Paige knows about me. “Thank you for having me tonight.”
“I thought you might like meeting someone who works in publishing." Tom says to me, then turns to Greg. "Chelsea is a big reader.”
“Actually, I own a literary agency, so I’m more in the pre-publishing stage of things.”
“That’s amazing. So you get to read the great books before anyone else?”
“When I’m lucky. Finding a best seller is a lot like trying to find a grain of salt in Central Park.”
Greg asks what I read, which I reply with everything. Tom is pulled away at some point, but Greg and I are deep in discussion and I barely notice. He asks what I do for work now that I’m off Celebrity Dance Off. I explain my degree in international business and that I’ve been applying for jobs and I’m not exactly sure what I want, which is an unsettling feeling. I’m relieved to have been rejected by the investment bankers.
“You speak any foreign languages?”
“French and German. Not that I’ve had much use for either.” They were part of a misguided effort to be more worldly like my dad. “It turns out I’m not interested in international finance after all.”
He laughs. “I can see why, but you have some valuable skills.” Paige appears and asks him for some help in the kitchen. “We may have something coming up. You should send me your resume.”
“Seriously? I would love that.”
He pulls a card from his wallet. “Drop me an email and we’ll set something up.”
“Thank you!”
Greg disappears with Paige, and I search for Tom, dumbstruck at the opportunity that just fell in my lap. He’s across the room with a group of guys, but he’s watching me. I smile and make my way over. “Greg asked me to send him my resume. Can you believe it? A job surrounded by books?”
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