Which meant I had a lot more movies to look forward to. Again.
I rubbed at my eyes and pushed myself off the door. My penthouse was silent, and my heels on the floor echoed throughout the place, bouncing off the stark white walls and reverberating back to me as I went to the kitchen sink for a glass of water. I drank it in four greedy gulps and left the cup in the sink.
Bracing myself against the sink, I lifted my head to look out the window in front of me. I had a spectacular view of the city. It was spread out beneath my penthouse like a topographic map of shimmering lights.
Christmas lights.
From up here I could pretend there was nothing festive in the glittering display down below. They were just lights after all. I could tell myself they were beautiful, because in a way they were. And it would be a shame for someone to live all the way up here who didn’t appreciate them.
Pushing myself off the counter, I walked through my dining and living room, past the guest room, powder room, game room, gym, and sauna—finally reaching my bedroom. The dark gray walls made the room even darker than the rest of my place. I didn’t mind. I liked the dark. The lights of the city below didn’t reach this room and that was exactly how I liked it.
In my bathroom I brushed my teeth and took a hot shower. The heaviness in my limbs was eased by the hot water, and by the time I got into bed I felt a little more like myself.
I scrolled through the new emails on my phone as I lay in bed. Thirty seven since I’d left the office at lunch. Damn it to hell.
Ignoring them all in favor of responding tomorrow when I had my wits about me and was firing on all cylinders, I was surprised when I stumbled on one from Laura.
Hey Max. My burger from La Bouche was delicious, even though it was a little cold by the time I got around to eating it. Thanks for taking me to a place I can tell stories about for years to come. What kind of restaurant doesn’t have a menu? The kids all had a great day and can’t wait for tomorrow morning. I can’t come with them tomorrow, but I’ll be there on Wednesday. Let me know if you need anything. P.S. I’m thinking about your sister.
I read the message three times over and smiled like an idiot the whole time. I could effortlessly picture Laura sitting in the waiting room at Nova Corp, her cold Chef’s Burger in one hand as she undoubtedly responded to work emails or spoke with clients on the phone. She was a hustler, that was for sure, and like me, she wouldn’t let a single minute go to waste.
I was glad she liked the food. And that she chose to add something funny about our time at La Bouche. It had never even occurred to me that she was underdressed, or that she might find it odd that they didn’t have a menu. I’d been exposed to this lifestyle for so long that I’d almost forgotten what it was like.
To be without the sort of money I had.
To be normal.
Laura was normal. Maybe that was what drew me to her.
After reading her email for the fourth time I closed my emails and dialed into my voicemail. Keith had left me a message.
“Hey there Max. Just checking in. Hayden gave me the heads up that Catherine may be heading toward some hard days again. Just wanted you to know that he and I are here to help out, too. You don’t need to do everything on your own. You’re a busy guy and this time of year has always been crazy for you. This is what family is for. Give me a call when you get the chance. Oh, and before I forget, how do you feel about dropping the pumpkin pie as our dessert for Christmas dinner? I had a couple ideas of things I could make to change it up. Maybe I’ll let Catherine pick. That’ll lift her spirits. She likes chocolate, right? Maybe I could do a lava cake or something with some fruit and—”
His call cut out. Keith had always been a rambler and it was almost his trademark to forget that voicemails had a time limit.
I groaned. He’d left a second voicemail.
“Hey Max. Keith again. Sorry, got cut off on the last one. I was just saying I could make a chocolate lava cake. I think that would go well. If you have any other ideas let me know. There’s still plenty of time. It’s what? December tenth?” There was a long pause as he most likely checked his phone to confirm the date. “Yes. The tenth. Plenty of time. Anyway. Give me a call when you get this.”
Keith had most likely been in bed since ten thirty. I’d call him later. I put my phone on vibrate, plugged it into the charger on my nightstand and clasped my hands behind my head. I stared at my ceiling for a minute or two before the stillness seeped into my muscles and eased the tension through my mind and body. Closing my eyes, I took some deep breaths to try and let go of the stress of the day.
It was a far better process than having a drink to forget it all. Or six drinks.
The darkness behind my eyelids swallowed me up with indifference. I fell into it easier than I thought I would, and for the first time in ages, I dreamed.
I looked back and forth down the narrow dorm hallway. There were a couple kids lingering in the open door of a dorm room about six down from the door I stood in front of. They were deep in conversation about something nerdy that sounded like gibberish to me. Turning back to the door in front of me, I lifted a hand and knocked softly before pressing my ear to the door.
Silence.
“Laura?” I called softly, knocking again.
Silence still.
I tried the handle and found it unlocked. I’d have to give her shit for that. Her father had been on her case about locking her door, too, but she still never seemed to do it. I stepped into the tiny room before closing and locking the door behind me.
It was eight in the evening and Laura’s room was lit with soft yellow light from the string of white Christmas lights she had wrapped around her white wood headboard. A couple of them were burnt out, while others winked as if warning that they too were not long for this world.
The walls, a terrible peach color, were covered with posters and pictures—taped onto the painted bricks. The room smelled like coconut—it always smelled like coconut in here.
There were two beds in the room pushed up against opposite walls. One, the empty one on the right hand side, was covered in blue sheets, messy and unmade.
The other was Laura’s. She was lying on top of the powder pink quilt—face down. Her head was at the bottom of the bed and her cheek rested upon the page of her textbook. She must have fallen asleep while she was studying yet again.
I went to her, a smile on my face, and gently slid the book out from under her cheek. She moaned softly and rolled onto her side.
Laura’s blonde hair was a wild mess. It had been secured in a bun that I assumed had started on the top of her head. It had inched down to the nape of her neck where it hung loosely, and the shorter strands had completely slipped out. It was a bit frizzy and messed from where she’d slept on it or rubbed at her scalp in frustration while she studied. Pens and pencils littered the bed and it took me a good minute to collect them all and set them in the cup on her nightstand, which was already filled with pens. The girl had an addiction to all things stationery. On the bottom shelf of the nightstand was a stack of six notebooks, all with a different purpose, and all organized with colorful sticky tabs.
I sat down on the edge of the bed. It creaked beneath me, but she didn’t stir.
Reaching out, I pushed some of the loose hair off her cheek. Laura’s long dark eyelashes cast shadows over her cheeks. She was so beautiful. Her lips were slightly parted and her breath whistled softly between her teeth as she slept, and maybe dreamed.
Leaning over her, I kissed her bare shoulder. Laura was wearing a black spaghetti strap tank top and a pair of gray sweats. A loose cardigan had, presumably, been wrapped around her shoulders but had slid off to lay around her elbows and waist as she slept. Her skin was warm.
I kissed up her shoulder and across her collarbone before working my way up her slender neck. The skin there was silky soft. At her ear I whispered, “Hey baby.”
She stirred, and moaned, so I leaned into my kisses at her ear.
> “Max?” Her whisper was thick with sleep and her eyes were still closed.
“Did you fall asleep studying again?”
She nodded.
I kissed along her jaw until I reached her lips. She tasted like cherries. She must have put on that lip balm I liked so much before she zonked out. She started to smile as my kisses became more insistent, and opened her mouth to my tongue.
Laura hooked an arm around my shoulders as I lay down beside her, propping myself up on one elbow as I ran my other hand up and over her hip, sliding it under her tank top. She flinched as I grazed that sensitive spot on her stomach by her right hip.
“Max,” she giggled softly, putting her hand flat on my chest. “I have to study.”
“You’ve been studying for hours.”
“I know. But I’m not done. And I need to do well on this exam. You’ve distracted me enough with your—”
“My what?” I asked, nipping at her lips and kissing the tip of her nose.
Her smile was radiant. “Everything. Your everything.”
I chuckled and rested my hand on her waist, still keeping it inside her shirt. “You’re sure you want me to stop? You know, I’ve heard that sex can help with information retention.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Huh. How convenient for you.”
“I’m just saying—maybe I could help with your studies.”
She threw her head back and giggled. I went back in for more kisses along her neck as she ran her hand along the back of my shoulders to sink her fingers in my hair. She tightened them into a fist and pulled my head back, stopping me from kissing her. “You are a bad boy, Max Miller.”
“But I’m your bad boy, baby.”
“Stop flirting with me.”
“Never.”
Laura inched her hand up from my chest to the collar of my shirt, which she curled her finger around and used to pull me even closer. With a crooked smile she said, “I suppose I could use a little bit of cardiovascular activity.”
I chuckled and she hooked a leg over mine. She rolled onto her back and I rolled on top of her. Up here, looking down, I had the best view a man could dream of. Big brown eyes. Plump lips. Freckles. A sleepy smile.
I cupped her cheek with one hand, stroking her soft skin with my thumb as I leaned down to press my lips to hers. She lifted herself up to me and the rest of the room and the world faded away.
It was just the two of us as she let her legs fall open and I began inching my way down the length of her body to take up my place between her thighs.
My eyes snapped open and I was staring at the white ceiling of my penthouse. And I was alone.
“Fuck,” I breathed, running my hand over my face. My stubble tickled my palm.
Dreams like that about Laura Wessex weren’t good for me. They were torture. A painful reminder of what I’d had—and lost—and who I could have been.
I hoped it was just a product of sheer exhaustion and my brain trying to find something positive to latch onto in this storm of Christmas bullshit and Catherine’s MS symptoms returning.
Chapter 20
Laura
The raised voices reached my ears as soon as I stepped off the elevator on the top floor of the office building. When I opened the doors to Nova Corp the voices were louder, but not heated. Casey wasn’t behind her desk, so I wandered down the hall, following the clamor of voices until I stopped in the doorway of the break room.
It appeared that almost the entire staff was in there, taking up three quarters of the room, and facing down Max who stood beside Casey. She had her arms crossed and was looking up at him, a goofy smile playing on her lips as he held his hands up.
“Alright, people. Alright. I hear you,” he said. “However, I’m the boss, and there is no way I’m walking into this place for the next two weeks to be assaulted by a Christmas tree decorated by the lot of you. Oh hell no.”
There were loud groans and complaints.
Casey shook her head at him. “You’re being a buzz kill and ruining the fun for everyone, Max. You are the only one who doesn’t want a tree. We didn’t put one up last year. This year I think it’s your turn to compromise.”
“No way,” he said, lifting his nose in the air.
My kids were already there, huddled together near the front of the group of employees, looking back and forth at each other and whispering among themselves. They’d never seen a workplace where the holidays were openly celebrated and Christmas spirit was in the air. Having a tree would be a good idea for them.
“You seriously don’t care that literally every single one of us wants the tree?” Casey asked, crossing her arms over his chest.
Max shrugged. “Not really. Besides. Not every single one of you wants a tree. Dave there is a neutral party. Aren’t you Dave?”
I couldn’t see the man who spoke from the crowd, but he called out, “The people have spoken, Max. Sorry buddy.”
Casey clapped her hands together. “See! It’s just you. Don’t be such a Scrooge. Let us get a tree so we can all decorate it together this afternoon. We can get Christmas goodies and play music and—”
“Now you’re really getting ahead of yourself,” Max said, shaking his head. He rolled up the sleeves of his white button up shirt and then slid his hands in the pockets of his pants before rocking back on his heels. “How about instead of a tree I let you all go home at four today?”
“Boo,” the employees chanted at once.
I giggled.
Max turned, spotted me, and tried to conceal his grin. “Morning, Laura.”
“Good morning,” I said.
Casey walked around Max and came over to me. She grabbed my wrist and pulled me into the break room. My kids waved at me and I waved back. She grabbed my shoulders and spun me around to face Max directly. “Please tell our stubborn boss that he’s ruining Christmas. All we want is a tree. Is that too much to ask?”
Max still had his hands in his pockets and was giving me a smug, give-it-your-best-shot look. I stroked my chin, playing up the drama, and when an idea struck me I lifted a single finger. “I think we all have an opportunity to make some compromises here. I propose a plan that works for everyone.”
The employees were silent and Casey was nodding along to what I was saying. Max, however, was looking more and more bemused by the second. “There will be no Christmas tree in my office, Miss Wessex.”
I held up a hand. “Now hold on a minute. What if the tree was set up in the office space—where you rarely have to go, and where everyone else who really wants the tree can see it every day? How about tucking it into a corner by the window, so even when you do have to enter, it’s off to the side. And, lastly, how about you stop parading around in an attempt to ruin our Christmas spirit?”
Max rolled his eyes. “Oh, come off it, Laura.”
“No,” I said. “I will not. I think that’s a perfectly reasonable solution, and everyone gets what they want.”
“Except me, the owner of the damn company,” Max said.
“Hey, it’s not our fault you’re a grouch.”
Max scratched the back of his neck.
“Come on, Max. The kids would love it. They never had a workplace cool enough to put up a tree. Right guys?” I turned to my kids, who all nodded eagerly. I looked back at Max. “Come on. We’ll go pick one out together. Whichever one you like. Big or small. Green or not green. They’ll take what they can get, right everyone?”
The employees all nodded.
Max threw his hands up in the air. “Okay fine. Fine. We’ll get a damn tree. But next year we’re doing it my way, you hear me? Casey, go write that down on one of those calendars of yours. No tree for Christmas next year.”
“Got it,” Casey sighed, before slipping past me to go do as he asked.
I beamed at him. “Well, shall we go? The sooner we leave the better chance we have to beat the rush.”
“Where the hell are we going to get a tree anywhere nearby?” He asked, looking exasperated
.
I tipped my head to the doorway leading out into the hall. “I’ll show you. Come on. I know a place.”
Max complained the whole time we walked down the street to the closest pop up tree shop I could think of. It was the same place I’d bought my office tree from a couple years ago, and I’d even purchased several for my fundraiser last year, putting them all throughout the banquet room going for a more traditional Christmas look than what I’d done this year with the snowflakes and icy color scheme.
The pop up shop was located in a parking lot behind a six story office building. Lights were strung up in a zig zag pattern overhead, and the owner had even decorated a few trees. They were quite eye catching with glittery ornaments and winking multicolored lights.
Max and I slipped through the entrance and were offered a cup of hot chocolate or cider. Like the children we were, we both opted for the hot chocolate.
On days like this I wished the weather in LA was colder. The sun was out and shining. It wasn’t warm enough for a t-shirt and jeans, but it wasn’t cold enough for a jacket heavier than the black leather blazer-cut jacket I had on today, either. It would be so much more festive to live in a city with a bit of snow on the ground, where it could cling to the branches of the trees and really play up the magic of the season. I imagined everyone bundled up wearing thick wool scarves, mittens and snow boots.
As we sipped our hot chocolate, Max and I walked up and down the rows of trees. They came in all shapes and sizes, and in varying condition. Max gravitated to the sad looking ones with weeping branches and missing needles. This didn’t surprise me in the least, and I’d known it was going to be like pulling teeth. I’d known it before I even suggested we pick out a tree together.
But I also knew I stood the best chance of talking him into getting one that didn’t look like it was going to turn completely brown before Christmas Eve.
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