Let's Merry Christmas

by Frankie Love

  “Shit,” I say. “It got late really fast. My dad’s gonna be worried about me.”

  “Yeah, my mom’s probably wondering where I am too.”

  “Okay, well,” I bite my bottom lip. “I’m going to get a cab then.”

  Bradley nods, but hesitates before speaking “Can I see you again, CeeCee?”

  “I can’t think about starting something with you until I get through the next two days with my father. I need to focus on my family today.”

  My mom died a year ago and I haven’t seen my dad since then he sold their house. He may be a crying mess this first Christmas alone, understandably.

  “Maybe I’ll see you at your new bar?”

  He nods, not pushing me -- and I respect that; it would be easy to ask for my number, but Bradley seems to understand I need to be fully present for my family.

  He leans over and gives me a kiss on the cheek. But I can’t leave it just like just that. It is Christmas after all. I turned my head, his lips brushed against mine. And we kiss again.

  This time it isn’t ravenous. This time it is passionate and sweet. This time it is gentle and holding the promise of more to come.

  “I need to use the restroom before I head down to the cabs myself. Do you want to wait and I can walk you out?” Bradley asks.

  “No, I really need to get going,” I tell him. And I mean it. I know the longer we drag this out, the more conflicted I’ll feel about leaving this unexpected stranger. “But I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve.”

  He nods, giving me a confident smile, and I walk away.

  In the cab, I give my driver the address to my dad’s place. He moved out of the house he shared with my mom a few months ago, and put all of my mom’s things in a storage unit, which is something I’m going to have to deal with this weekend. I hope that his new home will be a good start for him without the pain of so many memories surrounding him.

  He is still young, barely fifty. He has a lot of life left and I want him to be happy.

  The cab driver pulls up to a suburban neighborhood and I’m a little surprised. I thought my dad mentioned downsizing, but it seems that he has moved into a place about the same size the place my mom and him had.

  I’m even more surprised to see Christmas lights hanging on the gutters and a decorated Christmas tree through the living room window.

  I knock on the door, anxious to see my dad. When he opens the door, a rush of emotions covers me. I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed him.

  “CeeCee,” Dad says, pulling me into a hug.

  “Hey, daddy,” I tell him. “It’s so good to see you.”

  I step inside his place, setting my bag in the foyer, looking around confused.

  “This place seems like more than what you talked about wanting.”

  “I tried to send you some pictures of it on my phone, but this damn smart phone is too complicated. I need you to give me a tutorial.”

  “Dad,” I laugh. “You seriously don’t know how to text message a photograph?”

  He shrugs, smiling. “Truth is, I wanted you to see it in person. Sometimes things can be misunderstood when you aren’t face-to-face.”

  That when I notice we aren’t alone. Someone else is in this house.

  “CeeCee,” he begins. “I didn’t want to say it over the phone....”

  “You moved in with someone?” My eyes widen in surprise, but also grateful to know my dad isn’t all alone for the holidays. When I suggested Match.com a few months ago, he laughed it off. Maybe he didn’t laugh for long.

  I’ve read the statistics; it’s very common for men to remarry quickly after being widowed. I’ve wanted my dad to find someone.

  But this is a bit of whiplash.

  “Are you guys married?” I ask seeing the ring on her finger.

  “Not yet, we wanted everyone to meet.”

  “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”

  “We wanted it to be a Christmas surprise. CeeCee, this is Shelly.”

  Shelly smiles at me, warm and friendly. While she isn’t Mom, she does reach out and give me a hug, and when I look up at my father, he is beaming.

  All my fears of my dad being all alone and heartbroken disappear, and relief washes over me. He looks happy, which is all I’d ever hope for him, especially at Christmas.

  “Congratulations,” I tell them. “This is quite the Christmas surprise.”

  Just then another cab pulls up to the house. With the front door still open, I turn and look to see who is here.

  A man walks toward the house but it’s so dark I can’t make out his face

  “Oh, my son is here, I can’t wait for you to meet him,” Shelly says walking out the front door with open arms.

  My mouth falls open, and I wonder when the hell my life became a romance novel.

  My mountain man is here.

  What the Merry Christmas?

  Chapter 8

  CeeCee

  The idea of my father marrying a woman I’ve just met throws me for a loop. But it is nothing in comparison to seeing Bradley walk into the house with Shelly.

  When he sees me, he drops his bag, his eyes wider than mine, shock is written plainly on his face.

  “Are you?” he asks. “Is this some...?”

  I realize he doesn’t connect the dots. He’s as thrown by his mother’s new relationship as I am.

  “Did you know I was coming here?” he asks.

  I smile. “No. I’m not a stalker.”

  “Then what is this?” He shakes his head, looking around. My father stretches out his hand and offers it to him.

  “I’m Donald.”

  Bradley takes the proffered hand but then steps back looking at his mom.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Well, Bradley, you know I told you I was dating someone.”

  “Yeah,” Bradley says slowly running a hand through his hair.

  “Well, it got serious. We’re getting married and we moved in together last week.”

  “CeeCee, did you know about this?”

  I shake my head. “I had no clue.”

  Bradley looks at me, both of us still clearly dazed. “This is insane, right?” he asks me. “What are the odds?”

  “I don’t know but it’s kind of amazing, right?”

  “You know CeeCee?” Shelly interrupts.

  I bite my bottom lip, knowing just how well Bradley knows me.

  “Are Thomas and Katrina here?” Bradley asks, avoiding her question, looking around the quiet foyer.

  “They are, but it’s after two in the morning and they had a long day of travel as well. They’re already in bed.”

  “CeeCee?” my dad asks. “You and Bradley have met?”

  “We met on the plane,” I tell them. “And...” I look at Bradley, not knowing how he wants to play this.

  But I know how I want this to go down. I want our parents to know that what Bradley and I have is not a one-time thing. This is too much of a coincidence to ignore.

  “CeeCee is going to be my New Year’s Eve date,” Bradley says crossing his arms. “I hope that’s okay with you, sir,” he says to my dad. “But how could I not ask her out? I sat next to her for two hours and fell hard.”

  “You have time to flirt with girls and go on dates but you give me a hassle about coming home for Christmas?” his mom asks crossing her arms playfully.

  “So we’re going on a date?”

  “Of course, we are,” Bradley says, nodding his head. “CeeCee and I, we have something special. And your relationship,” he says, pointing at his mother and then to my father and back, “isn’t going to fuck with that.”

  My mouth drops open in shock. Also, I’m completely loving how forward he is. This could become some stepbrother secret relationship, but not with Bradley. He puts it all out there.

  “You’re insane, Bradley,” I tell him.

  “No. I just got the best Christmas present and I’m not letting her go.”

  My dad and She
lly watch us, bemused and slightly shocked that their news has so quickly been usurped by ours.

  “Dad, Shelly, I hope you don’t mind, but Bradley and I are exhausted. Can you show us the guest room?”

  At this, it’s Bradley’s turn to look at me with both shock and pride. I just walked into my father’s new house, met his new bride, and asked to share a bedroom with her son.

  I pick up my suitcase, full of confidence. Full of anticipation. Full of holiday spirit.

  I smile at Bradley. “Let’s Merry Christmas.”

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  Claimed By The Mountain Man

  PROLOGUE

  EVERLY

  Grabbing the Prosecco from the fridge, Everly finds three mason jars, pops the cork, and divvies up the bubbly. The goal tonight is to forget the reality of the situation she and her two best friends have found themselves in.

  Homeless. Jobless. Boy-less.

  Champagne will certainly help the cause.

  “Is that the last bottle?” Delta asks, as Everly balances all three glasses in her hands and walks back into the living room.

  Everly moans as she delivers the drinks. She’s wearing her hair in a messy bun and her nerd-girl glasses contribute to her low-key appearance. But tonight she isn’t acting low-key. Tonight she is dramatic and drunk.

  A dangerous pairing for any twenty-two-year-old woman.

  “The state of my checking account was so depressing I was like, eff it, and bought two more bottles,” she says.

  “That’s what I love about you, Everly,” Delta snorts. “You’re just so damn responsible.” She takes the glass from Everly’s hand and sets it on the coffee table before screwing the cap back on a bottle of eco-friendly nail polish. She’s just painted daisies on her big toes, as if declaring herself the ultimate flower child. Her long hair and boho dress complete the look. She’s a vegan, through and through, and living in Portland, Oregon makes her lifestyle easy.

  Clinking the rims of their glasses, Everly takes a long sip. “I know, it’s hard to be such a put-together adult, but somebody has to do it.” She smirks, knowing she’s anything but put-together.

  “No, but like, for reals, what are we going to do?” Amelia, who is braiding her hair, asks. She’s in ratty sweats and a tank top, but she gets a pass considering Derrick, her boyfriend of four years, just broke up with her. “I mean, all of us were legit counting on staying at Derrick’s summer house for the next three months. Now we’re going to get kicked out of here in a week. Then what?”

  “Calm down. It’s all going to work out,” Everly tells her, not believing the words herself, but knowing Amelia needs the affirmation—considering she’s the one recovering from an unexpected break-up.

  Everly falls onto the couch, squeezing between her two best friends. They all take drinks of the bubbly, each lamenting their own personal hell.

  They aren’t exactly on top of the world. And they feel deceived. The entire universe led them to believe that if they went to college they would be grown-ups. But here they are, all three of them a week out of Oregon State College, with no job prospects, no boyfriends, and—apparently—no housing.

  “This sucks,” Amelia says, her head falling on Everly’s shoulder. “Why didn’t a career counselor ever mention the fact that a Fine Arts degree wouldn’t help me? All it did was teach me that I’m more of a hobbyist in terms of creating visual masterpieces. Like, I can legit scrapbook, but that isn’t a job.”

  “Um, sweetie,” Delta says, “my degree is in Hospitality. There are literally no jobs for me.”

  “You can be a hotel desk clerk,” Everly suggests.

  “Yeah, except I didn’t need a degree for that, and it won’t offer me health insurance or pay my student loans. It’s not realistic.”

  “I know,” Everly says. “Even if I sold a story to some magazine, I’d make what—fifty bucks if I was lucky? And I can’t afford to sit here and write the next great American novel. That won’t pay any of the bills.”

  Everly thought a degree in English Literature would help her become a writer, but so far she’s only completed a few short stories about her life as a college student. Not exactly inspiring.

  “At this point I would do anything to stop feeling so out of control. I just want a plan,” Amelia says. “I feel desperate.”

  “I’m not desperate, I’m just horny as hell. I haven’t been with someone in like, three months,” Delta moans. “I want a husband, someone to keep me warm at night and fuck me all day long.”

  “Then we should have gotten MRS degrees, not BAs,” Everly says, sighing into her champagne. “Not that I’m exactly ready for marriage.”

  Delta and Amelia both look at Everly, giving her puppy dog eyes. It’s no secret that she’s a virgin, and if anyone needs a man, it’s her.

  “What?” Everly shrugs. “I’m not holding out for Mr. Right. The problem is, I’m just never going to meet a guy who is okay with taking it slow.”

  “You don’t need to take it slow,” Amelia says. “You need a man who isn’t going to take no for an answer.”

  “I don’t need to take it slow, either,” Delta says. “I just want to take it, if you know what I mean.”

  Amelia shoves a pillow in Delta’s face. “Yes, we get it. You want to get laid. But on a more serious note, maybe there are new apartments on Craigslist?” Amelia suggests. “You know, since we’re getting evicted.”

  “Not evicted,” Everly reminds her. “It’s just we’re in campus housing. We have to go.”

  “Like, in a week.” Delta sighs. “This is dumb. Let’s do something bananas. Like, move to a commune. Or become Amish.”

  Noticing the now-empty glasses, Everly returns to the kitchen and brings back some more champagne. “I just want a nice house and a normal life. Nothing crazy, just something regular.”

  “With good sex,” Delta adds, winking. “And on that note, let’s look in the Help Wanted section with an open mind.” She opens her laptop. “At this point we don’t have many requirements.”

  “I just want to get out of this college town,” Amelia says. Forgoing a glass, she grabs the bottle from Everly’s hand and takes a swig. “I can’t handle it here,” she says, wiping her mouth. “There are way too many memories of Derrick and me in this town, and I need to move on. Stat.”

  Delta scrolls through the housing pages, and it’s more of what they’ve already seen. Tiny studios or massive houses requiring three months’ security deposit.

  “Hmmm.” Delta keeps clicking, but there are no new listings. Eventually she takes the bottle from Amelia and drinks before passing it to Everly.

  Everly follows suit, then sits between them once again, starting to feel more than a little tipsy.

  “There’s nothing,” Amelia moans.

  “Even if there were,” Everly adds, “it doesn’t matter. None of us have jobs. That’s priority number one.”

  “Tell me again why none of us have parents who can help out?”

  The three of them were roommates freshman year, and instantly bonded over the fact they’d all been raised by their grandparents. It was such a coincidence—it felt like destiny, and they had to stick together.

  And they always did, through thick and thin, for four years. They put Delta’s grandpa in assisted living, attended the funeral for Everly’s grandma and grandpa, and were there when Amelia’s grandma moved in with her older sister.

  They have family that love them, but not family that can support them, or even house them.

  It’s time they figure this out on their own.

  “Okay, go to the want ads,” Everly says, pointing at the tab on the screen.

  “Let’s see, here.” Delta takes another sip as the page loads.

  The three of them read the job descriptions, not one of them remotely appealing.

&nb
sp; Dog walker, ten hours a week.

  Editor, must be proficient in Dutch.

  Smoothie stand, pasties the required uniform.

  “Well, we could do that,” Delta says, laughing. “We all have decent racks.”

  “More than decent, but that doesn’t mean I could do it,” Everly says, frowning, knowing her looks have never been her problem.

  The problem is, she’s never had a real boyfriend because she always gets so nervous and shy around guys.

  “We’re all cute enough so the tips would be good,” Amelia says, considering the smoothie stand position. “But, it just seems so cold.” She covers her chest with her hands, cracking up.

  Okay, so they are definitely buzzed.

  “This is stupid.” Everly hovers her fingers over Delta’s keyboard. “Let’s try something totally different.”

  In the search bar, she types: pretty girls, college degrees, open-minded, need jobs.

  The first hit causes all three girls to tilt their heads to the side, and reach for the champagne, simultaneously.

  Huh.

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