“To holiday splendor.” I flashed jazz hands and did a little feet-in-place-but-I’m-supposed-to-be-dancing jig.
Nick laughed. Success.
I let my hands fall to my sides. “You know, there’s a lot to be said about following your dreams. Whatever that means for you.”
“Oh? What’s to be said?” His eyes had a teasing light to them. He stood closer now, our coat sleeves touching.
“You never know until you do it.” Open fields behind the restaurant mocked me. Living my best life-giving advice outside a townie bar in Crystal Cove? Who was I to give anybody advice? “I started with a dream. I guess I don’t know what happened along the way.” I ground my boot over the hard-packed snow. “I dropped out of college and moved to Chicago. My mom was furious.”
“Why did you quit?”
“I didn’t care. At all. I enrolled at community college near my house in the suburbs. It felt like high school all over again except without the fun parts—friends, basketball games, yearbook. The classes were basics to prep for going to another college I didn’t care about.”
“So, college wasn’t the right fit.”
“And Dad was fine with it. Dad…” I hated this part but it made more sense to say it. “He died the year I moved out. He hadn’t been feeling great for a while, but he had a history of health problems. Nothing major, at least not that I thought. High cholesterol, high blood pressure, pre-diabetic. All stuff he worked on controlling with diet and medication and all that. My mom’s a nurse—was a nurse. She retired early. She was always on him about appointments. I think sometimes he told her he went but didn’t go.” I covered my mouth, in shock the words fell out. “I shouldn’t have said that. I love my Dad. I’m sure he… I mean, I don’t have proof he didn’t go to his check-ups.”
Nick drew closer. “What happened?”
“Heart attack. As basic as it comes. Nothing fancy. A standard heart attack.”
“Megan. I’m so sorry.”
The hurt washed over me again. Not as intense as the first years, but still enough to remind me how much losing him wrecked me. Dad believed in my dream to live in the city and explore life. I didn’t have career goals like my brother and every other ultra-achieving high school graduate in my class. My list of state school acceptances wasn’t exactly impressive. Dad assured me that was okay. He’d rather I live my life the way I wanted, so long as I worked hard and took responsibility for my actions.
When Dad died, it was like that validation left with him. What remained were shortcomings and forgotten dreams. Explore life? I barely did anything except work and hang out after my shifts at the cafe with my coworkers or a few regulars. My bank account didn’t leave many options for exploration. I shouldn’t have left home. I should have stayed and made sure Dad attended his doctor appointments. At least I’d have finished a two-year degree. At least. At least that.
“Diseases don’t have to be fancy to hurt or change our lives,” Nick said softly. “Cancer is basic too.”
“Nick. Ignore me, please. You and your family are going through so much with your mom right now and here I am whining about my dad who’s been gone for four years.”
“It’s not a contest.” He moved a strand of hair from my eyes. “No wonder it’s hard to see your mom remarry.”
“Right?” I appreciated the validation. “I could never say that to her.”
“Maybe in different words. You could tell her what you’re having trouble with. If she doesn’t know.”
“She wants me to go back to school. She even suggested it again last night when we were decorating the tree.” I scrunched my face. “She and Stu would pay for it.”
Nick clenched his jaw. His mouth twisted and he coughed. He was covering up…a laugh.
“What? What are you not saying?”
“Nothing. It’s not appropriate.”
The bar door opened. A large man in light-up deer antlers stumbled out. Another man steered him toward the passenger seat of a red car with plastic antlers attached to the roof.
“What were you saying about appropriate?” I asked.
“Okay, fine. You called me spoiled and you’re complaining about your parents wanting to pay for college.”
“Agree. That sounds textbook spoiled. But you don’t have the full story. I need to prove myself. I need to show them I can make it without their help.”
Nick scratched his chin. “Why again?”
“Because otherwise I did it for nothing. I moved away and left Dad for no reason.” My confession burst free, permeating the air and hardening into ice. Solid and definitive, I couldn’t take it back. I wanted to shatter it to pieces.
“Megan. You can’t believe that.”
I did. I believed exactly that.
“It’s not fair to believe it,” he went on. “If you don’t want to finish college, that’s one thing. But refusing help because you feel guilty for leaving home can’t be good for you or your relationship with your parents.”
“You keep saying parents plural. It’s mom and Stu.”
“Stu Krueger. Great guy.”
Embers smoldered inside me. “I thought we came out here to talk about you.”
Nick studied my face, setting me further on edge. “I didn’t know you were hurting this much.”
I was best at that. Not letting people know.
We made our way back inside Checkers. I stopped short a step past the door. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Half the restaurant had gotten to their feet, tables pushed aside to clear room for an impromptu dance floor. Okay, maybe not impromptu as a DJ jammed along to the song at a table shoved in the corner. Austin and Kelsey twirled in time to the music. My brother—my brother was dancing. Last time my brother danced in my presence he’d been wearing his high school graduation suit and fake breakdancing with his buddies.
“Want to dance?” Nick’s voice sidled close to my ear. He stood right behind my shoulder.
I whipped around. He held a hand out. “You want to dance? Here?”
“It’s Christmas.”
His response made sense. Ridiculous and somehow perfect. Involuntarily, I looked up. No mistletoe. A pang of disappointment hit. No, not disappointment. Relief. Surely relief.
The song changed over to a familiar tune played at weddings and graduations. The dancers assembled themselves in rows and stepped in time to the song.
Suddenly, Nick’s hand covered mine and I moved forward, pulled along by his strong grasp. Still in my puffy coat, we landed at the edge of the dance floor, shuffling right, left, then swaying and dipping.
Nick peeled off his coat and gestured for me to do the same. He dashed off to stash the coats at the table within the time it took to shuffle back. Seamlessly, he rejoined the dance, adding an extra dip and twist.
Color me impressed. “How’d you learn to do that?”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.” His boyish smile carried a shade of maturity. He owned this dance.
We stepped to the music, knocking elbows a few times (definitely my bad), growing nearer to each other with each step as more dancers filled in around us. This was like Footloose after the town broke the dance ban. Everybody cut loose!
He turned in the dance and caught my eye again. “What’s your dream? You never said.”
I hadn’t said. Maybe because I didn’t know.
One thing I did know—my dream wasn’t to manage the cafe.
The next song took a turn for country, and the dancers stayed in their rows. They stepped to a new dance I’d never seen.
Nick grabbed my hand. “This one’s fun. Watch.”
He shuffled, did two quick steps, swiveled and turned—and I was lost. I tried to catch up and stumbled over my own feet. My boot’s thick rubber sole caught the floor and sent me pitching forward into Nick’s arms.
He caught me easily, like he’d been waiting for my blunder. “Whoa there. Are you okay?”
The room and the dancers fell away. Nick’s eyes spark
led green. Like pine. Like Christmas.
“Uh-oh. Don’t look up.”
I knew before I looked. The crowd had nudged us closer to the bar and that pesky dangling plant with skinny leaves and white berries.
Still in his arms, I offered, “You know, mistletoe is a parasite. They steal a portion of their energy from other plants.”
“Are you suggesting you want to steal my energy?” Nick’s lip twitched.
I discovered I liked that lip twitch. I liked it quite a bit. “Maybe a nip of your holiday spirit.” I leaned in before I could talk myself out of it.
Nick met me the rest of the way. His lips were softer than I expected. Warmer. Sweeter. Minty. I sighed into him and kissed him.
It wasn’t a peck. It wasn’t over quickly. I kissed Nick Bennington and I meant every moment of it.
Chapter 12
Megan
Kissing turned out to be way better than arguing.
I’d kissed Nick. And he’d kissed back.
All way back to Stu’s I replayed our kiss. While I powered down for the night and settled into the guest room with a faded Miami floral vibe, I imagined kissing Nick somewhere besides a crowded townie bar. Under mistletoe, in tree lots, in the town square.
I liked Nick. A Christmas miracle.
Honestly, the things that bothered me about Nick were things I needed to face myself. He belonged somewhere and didn’t appreciate what he had. Nick had an identity that people valued. He took that for granted. He wanted an escape, but didn’t seem to want to work for it.
Whereas I’d escaped, working hard, but for what? What did I truly want?
I loved the cafe, but what I loved wasn’t the managing part. I liked talking to the regulars. I liked connecting people to what else the city offered. I knew our little block of businesses and local services to recommend. What could I do with that?
Lying in bed, I pulled up Nick’s number. We’d traded phone numbers at the bar, but I had the feeling I wouldn’t need it. The second I left the house tomorrow, he’d turn up where I went.
Sleep not coming easily, I pressed my lips together, thinking over the kiss. How Nick tasted. How it felt with him holding me. I drifted off.
Morning came too soon by way of blistering sunlight through thin tropical print curtains. Stomping feet sounded outside the door. Pretty hard to stomp on carpet, but whoever thundered through the hall sure made themselves known.
I cracked open the door. Derek wore loose jeans and a faded War on Drugs T-shirt (the band, not the initiative) and lugged a box down from an attic ladder. “You’ve got stuff up here too.”
“It’s seven”—I tapped my off-brand fitness tracker until the time blinked on—“twelve in the morning. Don’t you have jet lag?”
“I couldn’t sleep. I got up at six-thirty and made coffee.”
“Megan,” Mom’s voice destroyed any lingering hope of a gentle wake-up. “Derek will put your boxes in your room. It’s mostly old teen magazines and school papers. Maybe a bike helmet.”
I retreated to the guest room and shut the door. It was way too early for this.
My phone blinked on the bedside table. A text message from Nick waited for me.
Nick: Morning, Sunshine. Happy Christmas Eve.
I felt his arms and lips all over again. I typed back a response.
Me: You’re up early on a holiday, Is that normal for this part of the state?
Nick: Standard. It’s in the manual.
Me: I could use some of your holiday energy. Mom has us cleaning out our childhood.
Nick: Wow, the whole thing? Childhood covers a lot of ground.
Me: You’re telling me.
Nick: All I’ve got is this mistletoe, see…
I chewed at the inside of my cheek, fighting back a smile.
Pounding sounded on the door. Only Derek pounded at doors like that.
“Just a minute. Gosh!” I was suddenly twelve again. I flung the door open. “You’ve been stomping. It’s so loud.”
Derek lumbered in and set a box in the middle of the room. The most inconvenient location possible. “I wake up at five fifteen every morning. Hit the gym and head to the office.”
“You’re so corporate.”
He rolled his eyes. “Welcome to life with a real job.”
The breath left my chest like I’d been punched. “I have a real job.”
“You know what I mean.”
I folded my arms. “No, I don’t know.”
He’d already backed out of the room, returning to the attic ladder. “I’m salaried. I have clients and benchmarks and company gainsharing.”
I stepped over the box and out into the hall. “Sometimes I’m the only one to open or close the cafe. I book our entertainment and coordinate our rental space. All in addition to making drinks and serving customers.”
Derek disappeared up the ladder. “Can you get this?”
He handed down a box labeled with my name. I shoved the box next to the other one in the Miami room. “You don’t think I have a real job?”
He backed down the ladder. “I think you’re intent to prove you do.”
“So, it’s not a career. So what?”
“Why are you so bothered by it?”
“I’m bothered by you. And Mom. And Stu. They want me to go back to college.”
“So, go.”
“I don’t want to.”
“Then don’t?”
I grunted my frustration.
“You’re smart. You could be doing more if you wanted. Dad—”
“Don’t tell me what Dad would have wanted. Dad supported my move to Chicago.”
Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. I guessed it was better than a shove, what he would have done as a kid. “I support your move to Chicago. I told your friends yesterday you had a cool apartment and I meant it. You’re doing your thing.”
He rubbed his eyes, the time difference starting to set in. “All I’m saying is you seem bothered by the comments, and if you’re bothered, do something. You don’t have to do what I do. Figure it out.”
He acted so cavalier about it. Figure it out. Figure life out. Sure. Fine. Easy.
I went back to bed.
Chapter 13
Nick
I had to hand it to Megan, the mansion looked great. One hand for the Sawyer brothers for the physical work they put in lining the driveway with trees. A single red bow dripped from each treetop along the driveway. The last two trees flanking the end of the drive had the red bow and white lights. Worked for me.
All day, I followed Jill’s lists, tying up loose ends, making calls, and giving instructions to volunteers. I couldn’t say I enjoyed it, but pulling my weight with what I promised at least felt satisfying.
“Nicolas, this looks beautiful.”
“Mom.” I set the box of programs on a table covered in red plaid. “You’re here early. You look nice.”
She straightened the sleeve of her gold beaded jacket. “You did great.”
“Jill did great.”
“Don’t underestimate yourself.”
I couldn’t take credit, but I didn’t want to argue. “I have something to talk to you about.” Here goes. “I’ve been looking for a new…opportunity.”
She nodded. “I’m sure you hadn’t envisioned working at the printers forever.”
Just then, the sound of chattering young voices carried over. The kids’ choir burst into the ballroom in a mob of sound and limbs. Mom immediately greeted the kids and the sponsor teachers. Any hope of a heart-to-heart needed to wait.
My friend had texted that the distillery could do a video interview the day after the holiday. Have me in Madison by the end of the week for a facility visit. I wanted to tell Mom. If I told her then I could tell Megan.
Megan and I had been texting all day.
Megan: Stu’s kids are a trip. All-state in track, you said? How about all-state in all-everything.
Nick: But do they know about a flat white?
> Megan: You remembered my drink! Most impressive.
Megan: Almost as impressive as a PhD in Electrical Engineering who researches particle physics and a doctor who spends vacations giving free treatments in impoverished countries.
Nick: Which is almost as impressive as making a flat white.
Megan: Ha-Ha. You’re funny.
I didn’t care how many degrees Stu’s kids racked up. Megan doubted herself and I hated that. She didn’t need a degree to make an impact. She’d already made an impact on me. And from the looks of it, on our benefit.
Nick: Please come tonight. You can be my guest.
I’d asked her last night before we left Checkers to come to the event. After we’d kissed. I couldn’t believe she did it. She’d kissed me. For a second, I had to admit, I’d wished I’d made the first move. Then again, I’d steered us under the mistletoe. She’d taken the bait. I didn’t mind being bait.
That kiss flipped a switch in me. I needed to show Megan I wasn’t a simple townie riding my family’s privilege.
Megan: Mom and Stu are pretty pumped about their holiday ham. We’re doing gifts and games with the kids—that’s Stu’s grandkids.
Nick: A holiday ham, nice. We’ve got shrimp toast. We can’t compete with a ham.
Megan: The ham is fifteen pounds. I’ve been hearing about it all day.
Nick: To match your fifteen-foot tree.
Megan: Hey. Only ten feet.
Megan: I can’t believe it fits in the house.
I texted a gif from the Chevy Chase holiday movie where Clark and fam find the perfect tree in the woods complete with holy light shining from the sky.
She texted back an emoji smiley with the tongue sticking out.
Nick: No worries. Enjoy the time with your family.
The little dots danced on my phone screen, showing she was typing more. The message never came, and I was called off to another task.
Two hours later, the benefit had started, opening remarks were made, and the children’s choir performed their third song. Guests strolled through the ballroom, eating appetizers and desserts while making bids on donated items for the silent auction. I made sure the photo booth line stayed manageable and assigned a volunteer to monitor the holiday-themed props.
'Tis the Season for Love: A Charity Box Set Page 83