What Happens During the Holidays: A Holiday Anthology

by Lucy Gage

  “When the time comes, my firm will be yours,” my dad said, surprising me even further. He owned the only accounting firm in Larkson. “I don’t expect you to take over, but…” He paused, glancing at the box in my lap. “I trust you to do what’s best.”

  For the first time in years, we smiled at each other, and I felt a large chunk of my anger and resentment melt away. It was the best gift he’d ever given me.

  Later that night, Dominic and I were on his living room floor in front of the warm fire he’d made in his fireplace. He’d brought out a blanket, and we sat in our underwear, eating apple pie à la mode, as we laughed and talked about our day. We chose to live in the moment and ignore the fact that I wouldn’t be there tomorrow.

  It hurt to know that it might be our last night together.

  “Are you happy?” I asked, searching his face as the reflection of the fire flickered against his skin.

  He shrugged. “I’m content.”

  I nodded.

  “What about you?”

  “Sometimes, I think I am…” I looked at the fire. “But, sometimes, I wonder if I’m only fooling myself. The truth is, I’m lonely. I’ve been lonely for most of my life.”

  I blinked and gazed down at the bowl in my lap, a little embarrassed at my confession. Dominic’s hand reached for mine, and I held it, looking up and into his green eyes.

  You aren’t alone. I’m here. His mouth didn’t speak the words, but I felt them.

  Leaning forward, Dominic pressed his lips against mine, and the loneliness left me. I wished I could keep this feeling with me. I wished I could keep him with me.

  “Stay,” he whispered against my lips.

  I smiled. I’d packed my bags in my car and already told everyone good-bye, hoping he’d invite me to stay over again.

  “Okay.”

  Pulling back, Dominic studied my face with his perceptive eyes, and I felt our lingering separation weighing down on me.

  How will I ever leave? I don’t want to go.

  For the first time in my life, I wanted to stay in this crappy small town with all its flaws.

  “I don’t mean, tonight, Sam. I mean, forever.”

  I sucked in a breath and stared at him in disbelief. Forever?

  We barely knew each other. I had a life outside of Tennessee—a business, an apartment—but I wouldn’t have him. Suddenly, none of those other things seemed to carry as much weight.

  “But…” I paused, wondering what I was doing.

  This was supposed to be a fling. I was only supposed to be here for the holidays.

  How did I end up, half-naked, on this man’s floor, contemplating an entirely new life?

  “I want you to stay,” Dominic said again, his big hand cradling the side of my face as he watched me fight the internal battle in my mind. “I want to make you happy. Will you give me the chance to try?”

  It was in that moment that I realized the depth of what he was asking. Dominic had never been told yes. He’d spent his entire life being forgotten, being left behind, and sacrificing himself for someone else’s happiness. I couldn’t be another person to add to his list of disappointments. He deserved better, and maybe I did, too.

  I nodded, and the look of surprise and elation that lit up his face erased all of my doubt.

  “I’ll stay.”

  Dominic removed the bowl from my lap and climbed on top of me. His lips covered mine with a kiss so full of longing and gratitude that it brought tears to my eyes.

  “It was you, Sam…the one I fell in love with. It’s always been you.”

  THE END

  E.M. Abel was born and raised a Marine Corps brat. She spent a large portion of her life moving and living in her mother’s home country, Japan. As a result, she gained independence and a unique perspective on the world. The youngest of three girls, E.M. Abel spent a lot of time alone in her room writing or sketching in her journals and dreaming up stories. Growing up, she wrote poems, short stories and articles for her high school newspaper. She also fell in love with art and discovered her deep need for self-expression. Now, a Navy wife with two children of her own, she still loves being creative and most of all translating her stories into novels.

  Facebook: e.m.abelbooks

  Twitter: @EMAbel4

  Amazon Author Page: https://www.amazon.com/E.M.-Abel/e/B00EW7I3U6

  Fortune

  Copyright © 2017 by Renee Ericson

  All rights reserved.

  rericsonwrites@gmail.com

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  “Kerry, I can’t believe you’re with him! Seriously! You couldn’t find someone else to fuck?”

  “Lila,” my mother chides. “She’s your sister.”

  “She’s a slut.” The tears of anger begin to surface, and it takes everything in me not to allow them to pour over onto my face.

  “Give it a rest, Lila,” Kerry practically screams, puffing out her chest like some stupid animal on television in the wild. “You left. Went away to college, remember? Did you seriously think Gray would wait forever for you? You’re not that special.”

  It's no surprise that he wants to move on. I wasn’t naïve or oblivious to the distance between us since I left for school. It’s basic geography. However, the fact that I’m fighting with my sister over my high school love takes me back a little.

  This is my sister. There’s a code in regard to relationships and siblings, and she’s violated it in so many ways.

  “I’m not an idiot,” I fire back at her. “What I didn’t expect was for my sister to pounce on him like some lioness in heat. This town is filled with guys, and you have to fuck my boyfriend? My boyfriend.”

  “Lila,” Gray says, his voice coaxing. Those deep brown eyes of his staring straight into me, in a way that I used to interpret as saying I love you. Now, I realize what they are really saying is, I only care about myself. “It just kind of happened. We didn’t mean to hurt you.”

  “Why is that always what guys say? You didn’t mean to? It just kind of happened? Like what? You were walking along and slipped, falling into her vagina?” I wave my hands in the air and mockingly say in a manly tone, “Whoops, how did my penis land in this innocent vagina?” I roll my eyes. At least it helps to fight back the anger tears. “Give me a break. I can’t believe I came home for this. If I would have known you were going to spring this on me, I would have stayed at school.”

  “There’s more,” my mother says, looking sternly to Kerry. “Go on. Tell her. She needs to know.”

  Kerry’s hand slides to her abdomen and Gray joins his palm over hers. “I’m…We’re…”

  I gasp. “You have got to be kidding me. You’re pregnant?” I snap my attention to Gray and the tears are no longer under my control, streaming down my cheeks. “You’re a fucking idiot. Condoms. Hello? They worked for us.” My eyes flick to my sister. “And, hello, ever heard of the pill? I know you have. I took you to the clinic last year to get you set up.” I shake my head. “I can’t believe you’re going to be that girl. The pregnant girl in a cap and gown at graduation.”

  Turning on my heel, I stomp through the house, march up the steps and grab my things from my room. This family has turned into some sort of daytime soap opera drama. Or maybe a talk show where the host reveals paternity DNA tests of a baby, only to find out the father is the cousin. Gross.

  What kind of sister sleeps with her sister’s boyfriend? Technically, we were on a break while I went away to school,
but this is going too far. There’s a decorum about family and fucking, and my sister violated it. And then there’s Gray, what an asshole. I thought we had something special. Shoving the rest of my things into my bag, I race down the steps and to the front door.

  “Lila!” my mother shouts from the kitchen. She dashes toward me with Kerry in tears in the background and Gray consoling her. “Wait. Don’t go.”

  My poor mother. She’s had the single parent gig ever since my father split and refused to send her a dime or give any of us attention. My mother and sister are the only family I’ve had all these years. We’ve always been close and leaned on each other.

  We’re supposed to support one another, not rip each other to pieces.

  “I can’t be here, Mom. I’m sorry.” I lift the bag higher on my shoulder. “I just can’t be in the same house as them right now. You have to understand that?”

  “I do, but it’s late, honey. And tomorrow is Christmas.”

  “Was this supposed to be her present to me?”

  “I’m sorry. She thought telling you tonight would be better before the rest of the family comes over tomorrow.”

  And that’s when I see an overwhelming, yet important tidbit, in her eyes. “Am I the last to know?”

  “She’s telling them about the baby tomorrow.”

  “But they all knew about Gray, didn’t they? Grandma and Grandpa? Aunt Shirley and Uncle Tim? Please tell me that at least Maren didn’t know,” I say, referring to my closest cousin.

  She lowers her head, confirming my suspicion.

  “I can’t believe you all kept this a secret from me.”

  “We thought it was just a flirtation. She told me they were just friends.”

  “Her definition is a little off, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I do.”

  “How could you? All of you? I was just here for Thanksgiving and no one said a word.” I shake my head. This is too much and hearing more will push me over the edge. Each fact revealed seems to be worse than the previous. “I’ve got to go.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Anywhere but here.”

  “Will you be back tomorrow? Please say you will.”

  “I can’t promise anything.”

  “Oh, Lila.” She wraps her arms around me and whispers in my ear, “This, too, will pass. I promise.”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know if I can ever forgive this. It’s so wrong on so many levels. It’s a huge betrayal.” I back out of her arms. “And from you, too. You should have told me.”

  “I’m sorry, honey.”

  “Me too.”

  “Dammit.” Turning over the clear bottle, I confirm that every last drop of gin has been emptied.

  Avery. What a bitch. Not only does she decide to leave me right before the holidays, she didn’t even have the common curtesy to replace the fucking liquor.

  I set the bottle on the counter and pick up the velvet box, circling it between my fingers, and then peek inside at the ring. The jewelry is the equivalent of two month’s salary and it’s currently the most revolting thing to look at. The sparkle is meant to bring happiness for a lifetime and all I want to do is toss it in the garbage disposal.

  Luckily, my logical brain convinces me that throwing a piece of metal into the garbage disposal wouldn’t be good for the grinding mechanisms. I really don’t have the money to replace it since I’m still paying on the fucking finger bauble.

  The proposal was supposed to be my Christmas present to her.

  I was going to ask her to be my wife.

  It was time.

  We’d been together for three years and been living together for six months in this house. I thought things were on track and going well. Boy, was I ever wrong. Nothing like coming home from a Saturday afternoon with friends, watching a college football game, to find a note and a half empty house.

  She left.

  It’s not you it’s me.

  That’s what the note said and a bunch of other bullshit about how she was really sorry and she hoped for nothing but the best for me.

  What it should have said was: I’m fucking someone else.

  That would have at least been the honest truth. But, no, the hard facts only came out after a conversation with Avery’s sister. We ran into each other at the grocery store three days ago. She gave her obvious condolences and then mentioned she never really liked Adam that much. Adam—Avery’s boss. It took a few quick moments, but I was able to put the puzzle of what really happened in our relationship together.

  Cunt. That was the first word that came to mind. And that’s what she is. A fucking cunt.

  A cunt that drank the last of the liquor…and I don’t even have any beer in the house.

  Now, I was that pathetic guy on Christmas Eve with no plans. My family lives in Colorado and getting a last-minute ticket isn't feasible. I was supposed to spend with the evening with Avery’s family.

  How did my life get so fucked up?

  All I want is a drink.

  Fuck it.

  I snap the ring box shut, toss it onto the counter top, and grab my coat.

  “C’mon, Lucky,” I say to my eight-year-old golden Labrador retriever, lounging in the corner of the living room. “Let’s go and get a drink.”

  He slowly rises. He must have been sleeping, but he never refuses a request to go for a walk. Especially in the snow. At least he’s reliable and loyal.

  I click the leash onto his collar, slip on my hat and gloves, and then exit the small three-bedroom house into a foot deep of fresh powder. Blinking up at the sky, soft flakes of ice melt when they hit my face. Nothing awakens the senses like the cold.

  Lucky nudges my leg, reminding me of the promised walk. I lead him to the end of the driveway and we venture four blocks along the sidewalk toward the convenience store. It’s late and a holiday, but I’m pretty sure they’ll be open. They had better be.

  The store comes in view and my chest relaxes. It's open.

  At the corner of the building, just out of the direct line of a street light, a woman huddles up next to the brick wall of the structure. A piece of my heart falls at the thought of anyone being homeless and alone on a night like tonight. I reach into my pocket and pull out my wallet with the intent of giving the woman some money for a bite to eat. There are two nearby churches that act as shelters around the holidays, and I mentally remind myself to share that information with her as well.

  Then, I get a better view of the woman. She’s not what I thought. Or who I thought.

  She straightens, away from the building, and her long blonde hair tumbles out from under the maroon hood lined with fur. Her eyes, bright like water under a summer sky, sparkle just as I remembered.

  She bites her plump, lower lip. “Mr. Barnes?”

  “Lila Pierce? What are you doing here?”

  Good lord, it’s fucking Mr. Barnes, my senior Government teacher. That last year in his classroom we were seated alphabetically, like a bunch of kindergarteners, and I was stuck front and center all year. Lucky me, or rather tortured me, had full view of his backside and front for an entire forty-two minutes of every school day. It was glorious and torturous at the same time. I’m sure the baritone of his voice, the fact that he always had a five o’clock shadow, and the gleam of his green eyes, had something to do with the infatuation.

  I had the biggest crush on him along with most of my fellow classmates.

  The butterflies flapping their traitorous wings in my belly tell me I still do.

  The zing between my legs also reminds me that there were a few nights I closed my eyes and masturbated to the memory of him in the solitude of my bedroom. He was a better fantasy than any rock star or football star.

  “Lila?” Mr. Barnes says, pulling me from my memories. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, fine,” I respond a little too quickly, crossing my arms over my chest. “Just dandy.”

  �
��What are you doing here? It’s Christmas Eve. Don’t you have plans?”

  Crap. I do have a pretty solid plan, but not one to be shared with him. I can’t very well tell him I’m here to hit up some poor schmuck to buy me a bottle of vodka. That’s my immediate agenda. Get some liquor, get a hotel room, and pray that Santa brings me a new and better day. Because I’m not going back to that house, I don’t care how many texts and phone calls my mother and sister send me. Not that I know anyhow. The constant pings from them was getting out of control. I turned off my phone a half hour ago. My brain was going to explode if I heard one more ringtone.

  “Sure. Um. Yeah. I have plans. I’m just waiting for someone.”

  “Really?” His dog takes a seat in the snow as he relaxes his shoulders. “Here? On Christmas Eve? Seems a little odd.”

  I readjust my arms and then shove my hands into my pockets. Mr. Barnes takes a step closer to me, and then another, and then one more until I have a clear view of his spring moss eyes and the faint freckles spattering his nose. The warmth of his breath skims across my face and every unseen part of me melts. My eyes roam upward to where a few pieces of his chestnut hair peek out from his knit cap and it takes everything in me not to lift my hands out of my pockets and sweep my fingertips along his brow.

  He has to be around ten years older than me, but the physical attraction is pulsating through my system like a high-speed freight train with no stop in sight. Emotionally, I’m right back in his classroom, waiting for the minutes to tick away so I can pleasure myself to the vision of him.

  Memories of his ass at the front of the classroom flash before me and the way I used to mentally try to undress him, pretend to unbuckle his belt, pop open the buttons on his shirt, and shimmy every particle of his clothing to the floor, revealing a firm chest and strong legs. It was no secret he ran marathons in his spare time, so I was sure he had a great body underneath all that fabric.