Brand New Man

by Weston Parker

  “How about this one?” I asked, stopping beside a full dark Evergreen. The branches were equally spaced, creating a round circumference. The needles were dense and the dark green color was rich. “It would look beautiful in the office. And I think it would make everyone really happy.”

  “It’s just a tree,” Max said flatly. “And a chopped down tree at that.”

  “Yes. Right now it is. But by the end of the day it will be a Christmas tree. And that is something else entirely.”

  “Yeah, the same tree dressed up to look like something it’s not.”

  I sighed, “Well, I think you need to accept that you’re the problem here, Max. Not your employees. They all want this, and contrary to what you might think, most people actually enjoy the holidays, even if it is one of the most stressful times of the year.”

  “It’s bizarre.”

  “No. It’s important. Spreading cheer. Taking care of each other. Sharing good food and doing things together, like decorating a tree.”

  Max rolled his shoulders. “I don’t like this one.”

  “Ugh, this is like shopping with a twelve year old boy,” I muttered as I carried on, marching down the row to look at more trees.

  Max followed, sipping his hot chocolate, and grumbling about how this whole thing was stupid.

  “If you would just let me get the tree I know everyone would like, we could be on our way back to the office,” I said.

  “What about this one?” Max asked, stopping beside a crooked tree that was missing needles on one side. “It’s perfect. A misfit. It’ll fit right in.”

  I frowned.

  “What? Now you’re going to be the difficult one?”

  “It’s missing needles,” I said. “And a bunch of them are turning brown. It’s ugly.”

  Max gasped. “You can’t say that. Right now it’s just a tree. But once we’re done with it, girl it’ll be a gorgeous Christmas tree. Magic!” Clearly, he was enjoying the chance to mock me.

  I chewed the inside of my cheek to stop myself from calling him names.

  Max turned the tree, showing me the needleless brown side. “We could have this side facing the window.”

  “No!”

  Max snorted. “Fine. Let’s get your dumb big green one then. I just want to get the hell out of here. Oh God, look—kids are showing up. This is a nightmare.”

  I laughed. I couldn’t help it.

  “What are you laughing at?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s just—wow. Your life must be super comfortable up in that penthouse of yours, especially if you think that kids buying a Christmas tree on December twelfth qualifies as a nightmare. Max, this is a wonderful tradition,” I said, spinning in a circle to take it all in. “I used to come buy a tree like this every year with my mom and dad. And we’d make a day of it. We’d all get up and my mom would make a big pancake breakfast. Then we’d go pick a tree and bring it home. Dad would set it up, making sure it was straight and safe, and right where we wanted it. Meanwhile, Mom would cut up cheese and meat, and add crackers and fruit. We’d eat snacks and decorate the tree. Then we’d watch a movie. I just—I don’t know, Max. I wish you had something like that so you could see what you’re missing.”

  Max drew his shoulders inward and looked at his feet. I thought for a second he might offer some sort of retort, but he didn’t.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to say it like that.”

  He shook his head. “It’s alright. And I did have something like that. My Mom was a Christmas fanatic, remember?”

  I swirled the last few mouthfuls of hot chocolate around in my cup, mixing in the syrup that had settled near the bottom. Speaking softly, I asked him the question that I thought must be at the root of the problem. “Why do you hate Christmas so much?”

  Chapter 21

  Max

  A dozen thoughts ran through my mind when Laura asked me why I hated Christmas so much.

  The honest answer?

  I hated Christmas because it reminded me of how hollow and empty I was. Everyone else on the planet seemed to be radiating Christmas cheer out of every orifice, but I hadn’t felt even a sliver of that sort of joy since I was ten years old and my father walked out on my family.

  He’d left at four in the morning when Catherine and I were both asleep. My mother, bless her soul, had tried to make him stay, even just for the holidays, but he refused. He’d never wanted this life and felt trapped by us. By the people who loved him.

  So very early on the morning of December eighteenth, he just left. Never to return.

  My mother still made Christmas happen just as it had every year. Somehow she managed to pull it off. She decorated the house, got gifts and wrapped them, and cooked dinner all on her own, hosting the big family meal. Leaving all of them none the wiser, with no clue that her husband had left her just a week earlier. She told them all he’d had to leave for a business trip—one that would pay really well since it was Christmas and all. She said it was a necessary sacrifice he had made for our family.

  At the time I’d been too young to recognize my mother’s strength. But now I knew just how impressive it was. Catherine and I even talked about it sometimes.

  Like a fierce mother bear protecting her cubs, she did everything in her power to keep Christmas in our lives. She wanted us to be kids and see Christmas as something good, not forever tainted by our father’s decision to abandon us. It stayed that way for Catherine until she was about twelve, four years after my dad left. She stopped believing in Santa by then, but somehow kept the magic of Christmas alive as she helped my mother, filling in my father’s role of mashing potatoes and stuffing the turkey.

  Not me—I never found that fondness for the holiday again. It left with my father on that early December morning.

  How was I supposed to put that into words for Laura without making her feel bad for me? The last thing I wanted was pity—especially from her.

  So I shrugged and told a well-worn lie. “It’s just all the consumerism. That’s all this holiday is. An excuse to blow your hard earned money on shit that’s going to end up in the garbage or in a donation bin in less than three months anyway. Or crammed in the back of a closet and never looked at again.”

  Laura put a hand on her hip. “A billionaire who hates consumerism? Now I’ve seen it all.”

  “Touché.”

  She shook her head at me. “I don’t know, Max. I think you make it harder on yourself. Sure, Christmas is saturated with overspending and a lot of people miss the point, but that’s no reason to throw in the towel and not participate at all.”

  “Sure it is.”

  “Poor Catherine,” Laura muttered.

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  I scratched my jaw, wanting to ask her what she meant by that. Poor Catherine what? But I didn’t want to be the one to close that gap.

  Laura ran her fingers over the tips of the tree branches as she continued walking down the row of trees. She pointed out a few, but I could tell she wasn’t as sold on them as she was with the first one she’d pointed out to me.

  And clearly, I wasn’t going to be bringing a ‘Charlie Brown’ tree back to the office. She wanted one that was perfect.

  I caught up with her and grabbed her wrist. “Let’s just go back and get the first one you saw before someone else walks out of here with it and you’re mad at me all day.”

  “I thought you didn’t like that one.”

  “I don’t care what tree we get. I was just being—”

  “An ass?”

  I nodded. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

  Laura chewed the inside of her bottom lip as she looked up at me. “Alright.”

  We made our way back to her original pick. A young family was lingering around it, and Laura hung back, saying we should wait to see if the family wanted it. “They can have it if they want. We walked away from it.”

  I shook my head. “Nonsense. You want this one, so this is the one you
’ll get.”

  She tried to grab my sleeve as I walked away from her and over to the tree. The family, a mother and father with two young daughters, watched me go to it. I looked at the parents. “Were you going to take this one?”

  The father shook his head, “We were just looking at it.”

  His wife looked over at him, her eyes narrowing.

  I chuckled. “Well, I think you were ‘just looking’ a little too long. She had her heart set on this bad boy.”

  His wife shook her head. “It’s fine. You can take it.”

  I nodded at her. “Thank you. There’s another nice one just like this down there, but it’s a bit too tall for the space I have. Go take a look. Sixth one on the right around the corner, I believe.”

  “Thank you,” the father said before leading his family off down the row.

  Laura came over to me, clicking her tongue. “We did not see a tree that looked like this over there.”

  “I know that, but they don’t. And now we can leave with the tree you wanted. Come on.”

  “That is literally the polar opposite of the Christmas spirit,” Laura grumbled, as I flagged down one of the employees, who hurried over. I handed him a hundred dollar bill and told him to keep the change. He looked more than a little surprised but pocketed the bill and offered to help get it out to our car. I shook my head at him. “No car. Lucky me. I get to carry it all the way back to my office.”

  “I’m going to help you,” Laura said.

  I shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  The employee pulled a roll of twine out of his pocket and used it to tie up the tree branches. This made it a much easier package to maneuver. I took the heavy end, gripping the stump, and Laura took the tip. We walked back to the office carrying it between us.

  There was pitch on my fingers already and we’d only just begun.

  We made it almost three blocks before Laura’s end of the tree started dipping down toward the sidewalk. I guided us away from the street and over to a set of wide stairs leading up to an old bank. Laura didn’t protest when I put my end of the tree down. Her arms were probably hurting and I couldn’t blame her. She’d picked the fullest, thickest, and undoubtedly the heaviest tree of the bunch. She’d always had high standards.

  Laura wiped her hands on her pants, then planted her fists on her hips. “I’m sure we can get it back all in one more shot.”

  “I’m not sure how we’re going to handle the elevator.”

  Laura blinked. “I hadn’t stopped to think about that.”

  “That’s alright. You were distracted by this tree—blinded by the prospect of this mundane evergreen transforming before our very eyes into something utterly magical.”

  “Don’t patronize me, Max.”

  “I’m not. I’m just—”

  “Being a jerk?”

  Laura sat down on one of the steps and rested her elbows on her knees. I walked around the tree and took up the space on the seat beside her. “You do realize I don’t have any ornaments back at the office, right?”

  Laura picked at a loose thread on the knee of her jeans. “Don’t worry. I took care of it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There will be ornaments there when we get back.”

  I leaned back, resting my elbows on the step above. My hands dangled and I stretched my legs out to the steps below. “You sent some of my staff, didn’t you?”

  Laura giggled. “I may have texted Casey when we were on our way over and told her to send a team out to buy some decorations for the office.”

  “And who, pray tell, is covering those expenses?”

  “The guy with the fattest wallet,” she said flatly.

  I shrugged a shoulder. “Fine. Bully me into getting your way, yet again. I’m kinda getting used to it.”

  “Don’t be such a diva.”

  “Diva? Me?” I asked, pressing a hand to my chest. “I’m easy to please.”

  “Yeah. And I’m Oprah Winfrey.”

  I laughed. “Oprah? That’s who you’re going with?”

  “It was the first name that popped into my head.”

  “Right,” I said, my voice colored with a tone of disbelief.

  Laura punched me playfully in the shoulder. “Forget it. You and I just like different things. We know that about each other. I just think your biggest take away from today should be that you put the needs of others in front of your own. And what I mean is that you sacrificed your contentment by letting them have a tree. It was good of you, despite how much persuading it took.”

  “More like bullying, actually. But I do my best to serve the good people of Nova Corp.”

  “If I hadn’t intervened, you would have bulldozed over them.”

  Since I couldn’t deny that, I wisely chose to keep my mouth shut.

  Laura sighed and reached over to place her hand on my forearm. “All I’m saying is I’m proud of you for at least going along with this. It will make a lot of people really happy. And hey, that’s what Christmas is all about, right?”

  Her big brown eyes flicked back and forth between mine as her lips, so full and pink and inviting, curled into a warm smile. Her cheeks were flushed from carrying the tree, but not so flushed that I couldn’t see the dusting of freckles across her nose.

  “Laura,” I said softly.

  “Yes, Max?”

  “If you want me to stop you have to say so.”

  “What?” she asked, puzzled. Her nose scrunched up in that cute way it used to when she was confused.

  I moved slowly to give her time to tell me off, which I knew she might do. She stared at me as I reached behind her head and cupped the back of her neck. I leaned in and drew her to me. She didn’t resist. She sat there, paralyzed, her lips slightly parted in confusion as I closed the gap between us.

  Soon, I was close enough to smell her. Citrus, candy apple and something spicy. When I was a mere inch away I turned my head to the side. Her gaze slid down to my lips, and then, as if giving me permission, she closed her eyes.

  So I kissed her.

  Her lips were as soft as I remembered. Like rose petals after rain. She tasted like chocolate and mint.

  Laura sucked in a sharp breath as I pressed my tongue between her teeth. Then she let out a little moan, took the front of my shirt in one hand, and held me to her as her own tongue plunged into my mouth with desperate curiosity.

  Chapter 22

  Laura

  How did this happen?

  We were only supposed to be Christmas tree shopping. Not sucking face on the front steps of a random bank.

  But here I was. In his arms. Giving in.

  His hand on the back of my neck was firm yet gentle, and the way he cradled me to him wasn’t the same way he used to hold me when we were younger. This was a stronger touch. A more confident, self-assured touch.

  I liked it.

  God, did I like it. A lot.

  The fact that I knew I shouldn’t like it so much was making it feel even more exciting. I was breaking the rules—even if they were of my own making. I’d sworn off of Max Miller a long time ago. And I’d sworn to myself that if I ever came in contact with him again I’d kick his ass to the curb and make sure he knew just how done with him I really was.

  And yet.

  His lips were on mine and his tongue was in my mouth. He tasted like chocolate and all I could smell was the evergreen scent of the tree on the step beside me. A cozy warmth spread through my body, starting in my stomach and slowly working its way outward until it enveloped my skin, which began to tingle.

  Push him away.

  I didn’t dare. All this time and I had thought—no, truly believed—that I was over him. I thought he was nothing but a big black mark in my past. A lesson learned and a guiding reference for the type of guy not to date. The type of guy who should never be sticking his tongue down my throat in the middle of the day on a crowded street. With a Christmas tree.

  And yet.

  My hands were st
ill gripping the front of his shirt. I didn’t let go, even when he ran a hand up my thigh to rest it on my hip. If we were somewhere less public I wondered where this would have gone. Would I still have my pants on?

  Knowing Max, that was unlikely.

  His tongue slid along mine and he pinched my bottom lip gently between his teeth. I giggled into our kiss and he moved his hand from behind my neck to my cheek, which he grazed with his thumb. The sensation had me feeling all kinds of nostalgia. This is exactly what he used to do when we were together. It had done me in then. Just as it was doing me in now.

  It was a trap. A bad idea then, and a bad idea now. Worse even. He was trouble with a capital ‘T’ and tricking myself into thinking he was a brand new man was foolish. Idiotic, even.

  And yet.

  It felt so damn good.

  I finally managed to break away from the kiss and looked down at my lap. I didn’t dare look up, afraid that if I looked him in the eye, I’d never be able to stop myself and I’d find myself kissing him again. There was something so comforting in the familiar. And I hadn’t been kissed like that in a long, long time.

  My hands were shaking as I drew them back and clasped them together. My cheeks began to burn and I could feel his eyes on me.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “I couldn’t stop myself.”

  “It’s alright,” I whispered.

  “Is it?” He asked. “Really?”

  Finally, I looked up and met his gaze. His head was slightly tipped to one side as he regarded me. His expression was one of concern. His eyebrows were drawn together, pushing creases into his forehead. I nodded and tried to give him my most convincing smile. “It is. I wouldn’t lie. I was just—a little surprised is all.”

  “So was I,” he admitted.

  I wrung my hands together and took a breath, noticing that his breathing was as ragged and unsteady as mine. Like we’d been running a race with no finish line. “We should get the tree back to the office. Everyone will be waiting for us.”

  “Right.” He sounded disappointed. I wondered if that was because we had to go back, or because we had to decorate the tree. Was he miffed about having to partake in a Christmas activity or because he wanted to stay here longer?