You Matter

by Jazzy Mitchell

  “Thanks, Mom.” He trudges back in his room, the bed squeaking when he drops down on it. She frowns. This boy is never still, yet here he is, sleeping the day away. It worries her, even though she understands he’ll get better. Not wanting to be too far from Ben, Chrissy settles in the kitchen to make a list of possible Christmas gifts.

  A knock on the door breaks her concentration, and she hurries to open it. Peering through the peep-hole, she sees Reggie with two grocery bags, so Chrissy swings the door open. “Reggie.” She can’t hold back her smile of relief and leans forward to grab a bag. “Come in. What’s all this?” When Reggie doesn’t respond, she glances up. Reggie stands motionless, biting her lower lip. Her stare is so intense the hairs on Chrissy’s arms stand at attention. “Reggie?”

  “You, um, went jogging today?”

  “What do you…” Chrissy stops talking as she looks down, catching sight of her clothes. She’s still dressed in her jogging outfit. She hadn’t seen any reason to change. Her black leggings fit like a second skin, as do her black T-shirt and open flannel shirt. “I was planning on it, but I didn’t want to leave Ben alone for too long.” She starts to remove the items from the bag and places them on the counter, doing her best to act as if Reggie’s eyes aren’t doing funny things to her. A few moments later, Reggie empties the contents of her bag, and Chrissy takes inventory once everything is on the counter. Carrots, celery, chicken stock, some fresh seasonings, pasta, and a rotisserie chicken, still warm.

  “I’m cheating a bit since normally I would boil the chicken and use the stock. It will still taste good. Chicken soup is great for fighting the flu. We’ll get Ben up and about in no time.”

  This time it’s Chrissy’s turn to stare, rendered mute by Reggie’s actions.

  “Christina?”

  Blinking back her emotions, Chrissy says, “Reggie, this is incredible. You’re incredible. I can’t believe you did this. You…you’re…thank you.” She takes a deep breath, trying to settle herself. No one’s ever done this for her before. No one. She looks down at the counter, doing her best to push back the tears lining her eyes. She feels Reggie’s warmth next to her a moment before a hand squeezes her shoulder.

  “I wrestled with whether this was a good idea. I’m always afraid I’ll overstep. But that’s not what this is.” She applies enough pressure on Chrissy’s shoulder to turn her away from the counter, and before Chrissy quite realizes what’s happening, Reggie embraces her. Her voice softens. “I care about you and Ben. I wanted to do something to help.”

  Nodding, Chrissy hangs on, forehead resting on Reggie’s shoulder, tears escaping her closed eyes.

  “Tell me.” Reggie’s hand strokes her hair before resting at the nape of her neck, her thumb rubbing soothing circles on the side of her neck.

  “I’m afraid.” Chrissy pulls back enough to look Reggie in the eyes. “I don’t trust people. I don’t let them in. I don’t depend on anyone. But here we are, and I want you here.” It takes all her courage to say these words. Her biggest fear is being rejected again. The last time she was this vulnerable, she lost everything—her parents, her boyfriend, and her friends. Yet, Reggie makes her feel safe.

  Reggie cups her cheek, and Chrissy sighs. “Don’t be afraid.” Reggie leans in, pressing her forehead against Chrissy’s. “I don’t know how I gained your trust, but I’m grateful.”

  Tiny puffs of air caress Chrissy’s lips with every exhalation Reggie makes. She sinks into the comfort Reggie exudes, her body relaxing within Reggie’s arms. Taking a few deep breaths, Chrissy squeezes Reggie before stepping back. “I’m the one who’s grateful. So, how can I help?”

  “Right. You can cut up the carrots and celery while I boil the noodles and shred the chicken.”

  They fall into a comfortable silence, and Chrissy revels in the simple domesticity. She can imagine a future filled with such teamwork, a natural extension of the connection they’ve forged through work. She wants that future, can taste it. Time passes in the blink of an eye, long enough to hear Ben moving around in his room. Long enough for the soup to be ready.

  “The company holiday party will be here before you know it. Will you be able to come?” Reggie turns off the stove and shifts from one foot to the other.

  Chrissy’s heart sinks. She looks away. “I want to attend, but I don’t want to leave Ben alone.” Chrissy’s dying to see Reggie’s house, to understand more about her.

  “Well, lucky for you I happen to know the host,” Reggie says with a wink. “Bring him. We can set him up in the den. He’s spent enough hours at the office for me to know he can keep himself occupied. And I’ll make sure we have some food he’ll enjoy. He can read, watch a movie, play games on my tablet. I’m sure he’ll be fine, and you’ll be able to attend.”

  Why Reggie’s working so hard to solve Chrissy’s problems is unfathomable. Nevertheless, Chrissy’s ecstatic. Warmth floods her chest, and she’s hard-pressed not to throw her arms around Reggie again. She settles on smiling broadly. She wants to go, and now she can. “That sounds perfect. Thank you, Reggie.”

  “You’re welcome. Besides, I can assure you my motives are entirely selfish.”

  Their gazes intersect, and Chrissy’s unable to stop from falling into Reggie’s warm eyes. She gathers some bowls and spoons, standing close to Reggie as she doles out portions for everyone. Chrissy hums a Christmas tune under her breath, grinning when Reggie joins in. She can’t wait to get a look at Reggie’s home, her personal space, her brownstone on Beacon Hill. She knows Ben will be psyched for the same reason. For the first time in a long time, Chrissy’s happy.

  Chapter Eight

  Thoughts run through Chrissy’s mind as she walks up the steps to Reggie’s home. My colleagues are here. This is a work-related function. It will probably be boring. I’ll talk to people I hardly know, eat what’s sure to be delicious food, and leave before I make a fool of myself. I’ll make sure not to drink, not to watch Reggie’s every move, and not to declare my undying love. Simple.

  “You look pretty, Mom.” Chrissy shoots Ben a grateful look. She’s wearing a black slinky dress, a splurge purchase she made the week before. Reggie’s reaction the last few times she’s seen Chrissy in form-fitting clothes has given her the courage to wear a more revealing outfit.

  “Thank you, honey. And you look handsome.” He’s dressed in a fir-green cable-knit sweater and black jeans. His hair is combed back for once, and he’s wearing his Guardian Angel pendant. He wears it every day.

  Pressing the doorbell, Chrissy rubs her hands together. She exhales a loud gush of air, watching a white plume of breath form in front of her. It’s too cold to stand around. When the heavy wooden door swings inward, a blast of sound greets them. Chrissy smiles at Reggie, who opens the iron security gate.

  “Christina, Ben, welcome to my home.” The authentic smile, so different from the polite one she uses on her clients, is a balm to Chrissy’s frayed nerves. Reggie’s dressed in a fitted, maroon velvet dress with a plunging neckline. Chrissy has a hard time keeping her eyes from wandering.

  After Reggie turns to the side so they can enter, Chrissy steps over the threshold into the atrium, awed by the intricate detail in the ceilings, walls, and floor. Everything is complex—a perfect reflection of the woman who lives here.

  “Whoa,” Ben mutters, and although Chrissy agrees, she says nothing.

  Diagonally from them a magnificent fir tree is decorated with twinkling white lights and matching ornaments hanging from its branches. The distinctive smells of fir, cinnamon, and pumpkin tease Chrissy’s nose. “You have a gorgeous home.” Looking to the right, she sees the parlor full of people. Many are milling about, talking and laughing. Others are seated throughout the large room.

  “I thought Ben might be most comfortable in my den. It’s this way.” Reggie gestures toward the staircase. They pass white columns and ascend the winding, marble staircase. Chrissy tries hard not to stare at Reggie’s backside and fails beautifully. Garland and g
old bows interspersed with red ribbon wrap around the banister, warm and festive. A statue of Athena stands in a small alcove halfway up the stairs, and several oil paintings are arranged on the walls.

  After reaching the top of the stairs, they turn to the right and enter the second room on the left. Chrissy sucks in a breath. A grand walnut-paneled library, the room is furnished with overstuffed sofas and chairs set around a roaring fire. They look comfortable enough to fall asleep on. Floor-to-ceiling bookcases are filled with leather-bound books, and the ceiling has carved wooden panels. The drapes and furniture are light-colored, offsetting the dark wood.

  Chrissy imagines spending hours in here, working, relaxing, dreaming. She can smell Reggie’s perfume, and the familiar scent—a sweet and spicy blend of roses, patchouli, and muguet—brings a smile to Chrissy’s lips. Their eyes connect, and something intimate passes between them.

  “Beautiful.” Chrissy realizes she’s talking about Reggie as much as the room.

  It doesn’t take long to get Ben settled, and although she wants to explore the rest of Reggie’s home, Chrissy doesn’t dare ask for a tour. Instead, she follows Reggie down the stairs, the sway of her hips keeping Chrissy’s attention.

  “The bar’s straight ahead, and food will be served in about twenty minutes.”

  Recognizing the dismissal, Chrissy says, “Great. Thanks.” A hand on her arm stops her before she can enter the parlor.

  “I’ll catch up with you later.” Reggie’s tone is apologetic.

  Feeling her spirits rise, Chrissy grins. “Sounds good.”

  She walks through the crowd, exchanging pleasantries with several coworkers. Once at the bar, she asks for a glass of ginger ale. Many will assume she’s drinking alcohol, and that’s fine with her. The parlor is connected to a large formal ballroom. Who has that?

  “Chrissy. How are you?” Cathy asks, as she comes up beside her at the bar.

  Leaning in, Chrissy hugs her. “I’m great. Ready for Christmas?”

  “Oh, yes. David and I finished our shopping, and his parents are visiting from Rhode Island.” She’s wearing a green silk blouse and black slacks, her emerald drop earrings and matching pendant complementing the outfit well.

  “I’ve never been. Maybe I’ll have to take a road trip with the kid to visit the area this summer.”

  “Oh, let me know if you do. I can tell you all the great places to visit, and maybe David and I can even meet up with you.”

  Chrissy perks up at the suggestion. She tends to avoid taking trips since that means making all the arrangements. She’s sure Cathy can give her all the information she needs so it’ll be easy to plan. “That’s a good idea. Once the weather gets warmer, we’re there.” Since Cathy already has a glass of wine in hand, they move toward the ballroom once Chrissy gets her beverage. A trio plays jazz in the corner while people mingle. It’s starting to get crowded, the noise increasing as people fill the room.

  “Hi, Chrissy.” David wraps an arm around Cathy. “Going solo tonight?”

  “I like to keep my options open,” Chrissy says, feigning nonchalance.

  “Ah, well your open option is staring at you right now.” David’s eyes twinkle, as he jerks his chin toward their right.

  Her eyes connect with Reggie’s, and heat crawls up Chrissy’s neck.

  “David!” Cathy swats him on the arm. “Don’t embarrass her.”

  “What?” He rubs his arm, a pronounced pout making him look much younger. “I thought she’d want to know the interest isn’t one-sided.” He’s wearing a maroon Oxford shirt open at the collar and black slacks. His outfit is festive but more relaxed than what he wears to work. He looks more like a first-year associate than a junior partner.

  I never should have confided in Cathy. Chrissy sighs, but Reggie’s dulcet voice announces the buffet’s open.

  “That’s my cue,” David says, taking Cathy’s hand. “Shall we?”

  Chrissy follows them, planning to fill a plate for Ben and then get herself settled.

  “Christina, tell me what you want, and I’ll take care of it while you get Ben’s plate,” Reggie says beside her.

  Chrissy smiles. “Okay. Thanks.” She looks at the display and rattles off less than what she would normally eat, not wanting to sound like too much of a glutton. Looking back at Reggie, she notices the raised eyebrows.

  “What?”

  “That’s all you want? Really?”

  “Um,” Chrissy stalls. How does she do that? How does she know me so well?

  “We’ve eaten together enough times for me to know you’re trying to be polite.”

  “Well, the others have to eat, too.” She preens when she hears Reggie’s chuckle.

  “Right. I’ll figure it out.” Reggie moves away, and Chrissy watches her while trying not to salivate.

  “Good job, Romeo.” David nudges her.

  Chrissy rubs the back of her neck, doubts beginning to plague her with David’s ribbing. Maybe Reggie’s being the consummate hostess by offering to organize my plate and I’m letting my desires run away from reality. With a frown, Chrissy says, “Thanks. I’m so smooth, it’s a wonder she didn’t swoon at my feet.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short. She’s taking care of you. That’s positive,” Cathy says.

  “True.” Chrissy’s spirits revive.

  After filling a plate with lasagna, meatballs, ham, vegetables, fresh Italian bread, and the proper condiments, Chrissy snags a tall glass of water and makes her way to the den.

  “That smells good.” Ben’s eyes widen when he sees the food.

  “I bet it tastes good, too.” Chrissy hands over the food. “Be careful. Don’t get anything on the furniture or yourself. Are you doing okay? You’re not too bored, are you?”

  “I’m fine, Mom. Have fun, okay? And dance with her at least once.” Ben turns his attention to the food, digging in.

  “Dance with her. Right,” Chrissy mumbles, as she makes her way to the dining room. She spots Reggie with an empty seat next to her. She saved me a seat? Chrissy’s heart rate triples. Reggie looks up and smiles, as Chrissy reaches her.

  “Thanks, Reggie.” Chrissy sits down, and her eyes widen, much as Ben’s eyes had. Reggie has loaded Chrissy’s plate with a variety of food, and every single morsel is something Chrissy knows she’ll love. “Oh, my God.”

  A husky chuckle catches her attention. “I hope you enjoy it. I spent all day cooking.”

  “You cooked all this?” Chrissy asks, her voice squeaking. The spread looks incredible. Without waiting any longer, Chrissy scoops up a forkful of lasagna and inhales it as if it’s her last meal. Groaning, Chrissy is certain she’s never eaten anything so melt-in-your-mouth, ambrosia-for-the-gods, perfect food in her entire life. It is heavenly. Orgasmic.

  After swallowing her first bite, she turns to Reggie to tell her and pauses. Reggie’s fork is frozen halfway to her mouth, staring at Chrissy as if she’s the Holy Grail. The same look from when they shared dessert at Gino’s months ago.

  Chrissy holds herself back, barely, from leaning in to click Reggie’s tempting mouth closed and covering it with her own. “Your cooking is exceptional. How did you learn to do it?” She loves being the center of Reggie’s attention. She feels desirable. Powerful. Confident.

  Nothing. Reggie says nothing. She continues to stare at Chrissy as if she is a meal, a meal she wants to consume. “Reggie? Are you all right?” Chrissy places her hand on Reggie’s knee and squeezes.

  “Y…yes. Sorry.” Reggie clears her throat and shakes her head. “I got lost in thought. My father was an accomplished cook, and he taught me.”

  “He was an accomplished teacher, too.” She doesn’t like the melancholy underlying Reggie’s words, but she doesn’t know how to address it. With another squeeze, Chrissy removes her hand and returns her attention to the food.

  “Yes, I miss him. He loved the holidays. When he died of a heart attack,” Reggie shakes her head, “it was awful.” A deep sadness crosses Regg
ie’s brown eyes, staining them with grief. “It was unexpected. He and my mother had divorced. Oh, it was so nasty…and then mere months later, he died.”

  Chrissy wants to hug Reggie, remove the hurt. All she can do, though, is grab her hand and squeeze it before reluctantly releasing it. “I’m so sorry, Reggie. I’m sure you miss him greatly.”

  Reggie nods, eyes skittering away. “Thank you.”

  Chrissy ignores how her face heats and her body hums. All this touching is having a marked effect on her equilibrium.

  “My father’s name was Ben.” It takes a moment for Chrissy to process the words before she grins brightly.

  “Great name.”

  “Yes. It is.” Reggie’s lips curve up.

  They eat in silence before another thought strikes Chrissy. “What are your plans for Christmas?”

  “I’ll be hosting the family dinner here.”

  Chrissy watches Reggie sip her wine, understanding what she has not said. She’s not looking forward to Christmas dinner.

  “And are you and your mother getting along?” Chrissy’s hesitant to pry, but she’s unable to ignore the obvious signs of her unhappiness.

  “We’re working on it. I was furious for what she did to my father.” Reggie’s laugh is bitter. “They split up years ago, but I still hate her for the hell she put him through. He refused to fight back. Said he’d always love her, even though she cheated on him with some younger, richer, slimy guy. That’s why I refuse to handle divorce cases. They cause so much pain. And I probably still wouldn’t be talking to my mother if my father hadn’t died.”

  Chrissy raises her eyebrows. If it were her, she doubts she’d give her mother another chance.

  “I might have continued to ignore my dear mother’s entreaties that we talk if not for my sisters.” Reggie’s lips twist even as she shakes her head. “They are such busybodies. But they love me and my mother, and they want us all to spend Christmas together. I was able to get out of Thanksgiving dinner fairly early thanks to that case I settled last week, but I can’t exactly escape from my own house. So, one large, uncomfortable Christmas dinner is what I have to look forward to.”