Our Totally, Ridiculous, Made-Up Christmas Relationship (19 page)

“Kayden, there is no reason for you to stay by my side every single day,” Mom complains, pushing herself up from the living room couch, “There’s no reason for anyone to keep babying me. I’m all right.”

Aunt Sally is in the kitchen, cooking up some dinner for Mom and Dad, while Landon sits at the dining room table with his open laptop. I hate the ass, but the fact that he took the time away from the office to look after Mom says a lot. Kate has been stopping by whenever she’s not working at the hospital, and Dad hasn’t seen his office since Mom had the fall.

Gliding into the kitchen, I grab a dinner roll from the table. “Sticking around for the dinner?” Sally asks, checking the roast in the oven.

“Can’t. It’s New Year’s Eve. The bar is gonna be crazy.”

She huffs, tasting her gravy with her pinky finger. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot.”

Her body swerves around toward me and she wipes her messy fingers on a paper towel. “Who’s the girl?”

I laugh, shaking my head back and forth. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Except I do. I know exactly what she’s talking about. She’s talking about me walking around for days humming Hall and Oates. She’s talking about me starting to open my mouth to tell her about Jules but shutting up just as quickly. She’s talking about the patch on my left arm and the lack of cigarettes resting between my lips.

“Yeah.” She walks over to me and flicks the patch on my arm. “Keep telling yourself that, kiddo. Whatever makes you sleep better at night.” Landon walks into the kitchen and grabs one of the dinner rolls, making Sally throw a fit. “Hell, boys, why don’t you eat the whole dinner while you’re at it? Why wait until we are sitting down for a damn meal?” She and her sassy attitude storm out of the room to check on Mom.

I lean against the counter, watching Landon pretend I’m invisible.

“I picked you for Secret Santa, Land,” I say, not quite sure where the words are coming from, or why I’m even saying them. He looks up to me, a sneer of annoyance stuck on his face. I keep talking, not really caring if he chooses to listen. “I didn’t get you anything because, well, I know nothing about you. So I thought as your gift I would tell you about me. When Penny died, a part of me left with her, but I didn’t lose my mind.

“What Jasmine told you I did, no matter how convincing she was, is a lie. There are rules to being a family, and I would never cross that line. I never told you that because I was so fucking pissed at you for not trusting me. Yeah, I screw up. I have sex with girls whose names I never ask for, and I let people down. But you’re my brother. You’re supposed to know me better than anyone. So for the record, I’m telling you that nothing fucking happened.” Tossing my hands up, I let out a short sigh, “There ya go. My secret Santa gift to you.”

Turning to walk away, I pause when I hear him respond to me.

“I broke up with her.” He runs his hands through his hair, picking his words carefully. “I’m sorry. I know it seems a little too late to say it but I am. I’m sorry. I’ve been an ass all this time and you didn’t deserve it. Sally’s right, isn’t she? There’s a girl?”

I twist around to look at him. “There’s a girl.”

He shifts his feet on the ground before crossing his arms and walking toward me. “Don’t fuck it up.”

I laugh, because it’s too late. “Already did.”

“I don’t know.” His head shakes and he starts moving past me into the next room, “If you’re still alive, still breathing, I think it’s never too late to try to make things better.”

And he’s out of my sight before I can reply. Mom walks over to me and places her hands against her hips. “Were you two just in the same room without screaming?”

I nod once, surprised like her. Kissing her forehead, I throw my jacket on to leave. “I have to get to work for the New Year’s party. I’ll be back tomorrow though.”

Mom pulls me into her arms, holding me close. “If I had known you would stop by so much after I fell, I would have taken the tumble years ago.” When we separate from our embrace, Dad’s standing in the doorway, looking my way.

“Kayden,” he hollers, a cigar hanging from his lips.

I don’t have the strength in me to fight with him anymore. I don’t have the power to listen to him tell me what a fuck up I am. There are so many things in my life I’ve wasted my time holding on to, wasted my time engaging. I don’t want to do that anymore. I don’t want to waste this one shot I have at life.

“Listen, Dad. I’m not a lawyer. I’m not. I’ll never be a doctor. There’s a good chance I will screw up again and again while I try to figure out what I want, who I am. But I can’t handle you telling me, reinforcing the fact that I’m a loser. I’m getting another apartment you won’t have to help pay for. I’m looking for a steadier job. I’m working on it, all right?”

His brows lower and he brushes his fingers across them, appearing to be deep in thought. When his head rises to meet my eyes, he sighs. “I was going to say thank you for being there for your mom.”

Mom’s eyes fill with tears, and I nudge her in the shoulder. “Always.”

Dad’s look of emotion doesn’t last long, which is fine. He’s not really that type of person. I get it. Before he turns to leave, he says, “Next Sunday dinner is at six. Bring a Mexican dish to pass.”

I know it doesn’t seem like much, and it hardly counts as an Oscar-winning performance, but Dad’s short speech to me was pretty damn good. The fact that we just spoke without screaming at one another is a huge improvement from what we used to do.

Maybe, just maybe, I don’t
fucking
hate him anymore.

Maybe I simply hate him.

Now
that’s
progress.

The bar is packed by eleven, and I haven’t stopped mixing drinks, getting hit on, and cleaning up shattered glass. There’s a line of people wrapped around the building waiting to get inside, but I doubt anyone else is leaving this close to midnight. “What can I get you?” I ask a brunette who, in the past, I would’ve taken home for the night, but today all I want to do is mix her a damn drink before moving on to the next person.

“What do you suggest?” she flirts, barely wearing enough clothes to leave anything to the imagination. She’s twirling her hair around her pinky, and it takes everything in my power to not roll my eyes at the girl.

“Oh my gosh, I hope I’ve never sounded that needy and desperate.” The voice wakes me up as my eyes shift to the end of the bar. Somehow she possesses the power to put the world on pause. Jules smiles wide and her dimples kiss me from a distance. Her crazy, wild hair is tamed, but the curls bounce as they always do. She’s wearing a beautiful red dress that covers everything while highlighting her curves. And her eyes…Jesus. I didn’t know it was possible to miss a pair of eyes so much. I swear they’re bluer or they sparkle more. Or well, maybe she’s just happier. She looks happier.

I start to move her way, but she shakes her head, and points to the girl, waiting for her drink. Reaching under the counter, I open a random beer and slam it down. “Here you go. It’s on the house.”

“But…” the girl starts to whine while I’m already crossing to the other side of the bar.

“Hey, you,” Jules screams over the loud music. The way she says those two simple words makes the world that much sweeter.

“What are you doing here?”

“I need to hire a fake boyfriend for New Year’s Eve. You see, I was planning on spending my New Year’s alone, drinking wine, and listening to Hall and Oates, but…I don’t know. I’m feeling a little wild.” She stands up straight and holds her hand out to me. “Help me up on the counter and then shut off the music.”

I abide. Of course I fucking abide. She could have told me to jump in Lake Michigan and I would have performed the task butt-ass naked. The crowd goes nuts with the lost sound, but I don’t care, Hank can fire me if he wants.
Please don’t fire me, Hank.

When she gets up there, she bends down to me, edging her lips close to mine. “By the way you look really sexdorable serving those drinks to people. Very sexdorable.” She stretches back up to a standing position and she taps her hand right below her throat before speaking. “Hi! I’m Jules Stone. I’m single and weird, and I ugly cry—like real ugly. Snot, boogers, and all that gross stuff. I sometimes snort when I laugh too hard, and I am desperately in need of a date for New Year’s Eve. I need a kiss in about thirty minutes. I’m offering fifty dollars to whoever will step up to the job. So if anyone’s interested—”

“I’ll do it!” A stranger yells in the background. Followed by more and more people shouting. Jules’ face expression changes, and I can tell, like always, she didn’t really think her plan through.

“Hell,” The brunette I slid a beer to steps onto the bar and walks over to Jules. “I’ll do it!” She wraps Jules in her arms, dips her, and kisses her—hard.

The crowd goes wild. Jules’s doe eyes are untamed and confused, and Hank turns the music back on. My gut hurts from laughing so hard at the shocked look frozen on Sunshine’s face. “Jules, get down.”

I take her hand in mine and help her get down behind the counter so she’s standing in front of me. “I just kissed a girl, and her tongue touched my tongue I think… And her hand grabbed my ass. That definitely didn’t go the way I thought it would. In the movies, there’s always this big moment of realization where the hero or heroine marches into a place, confesses his or her love in a big life-changing way, and it works out perfectly.”

I blink once, looking down to the ground, and a realization hits me when my head snaps back up, my eyes widen. “Did you say ‘confesses love’?”

“Lust.” She pauses, wiggling her nose and slapping her hand across her face. “
Lust
. I meant lust. I mean, clearly we don’t love each other yet. I’ve known you for like, a week. And there were at least five days where we didn’t even communicate. I tagged those as the lost days. So love is a little extreme and—”

She’s rambling, I love it. My finger moves to her lips and shuts them. “I’m sorry I lied about the agency. I was trying to prove people wrong, prove myself to myself, I guess. And if I have to, I will spend the rest of my days trying to make it up to you. Because I lust you, too.”

“Do you really? I mean, I know I’m odd and stuff. My family almost drove you crazy, too, and I really messed up this romantic, big life-changing moment. If you give me another day, I can come up with something even cooler, something more fun! I’m thinking clowns and a marching band.”

“Jules, shut up. This isn’t a movie.” I inch my lips closer to hers and ignore all of the people begging for drinks. Our lips are touching, but we’re not kissing—yet. “This is real life.”

“Real? No more fake?”

“No more fake.”

“Like a totally, ridiculously,
real
relationship?” Her smile widens and I want nothing more than to fall for her for the remainder of my life.

“Kiss me now.”

She shrugs her shoulders and flips her hair over her shoulder. “My breath smells like tequila and the Chinese food I decided to eat before I came. We can’t kiss right now. I want the first real kiss to be gentle. Calm and perfectly sweet. Romantic, peppermint-scented, soft, and no tongue of course because that would just be tacky. Plus, we’re in a bar. Gross, right? I hate bars. I think I want the first kiss to—”

It doesn’t matter what she wants. When my lips lock with hers, I feel her body melt against mine. She kisses back like she means it, and I lose myself in the moment. I kiss her deeper because I’ve been waiting years to find
this
girl,
this
kiss,
this
feeling.
This
moment,
this
connection,
this
experience… Jules Stone doesn’t simply feel like home—she is home. Our eyes open, and we remain still, not pulling away from one another. I never want to pull away from the light before me.

When our lips separate, I step back and take in all of her beauty. “I have to finish up work, but at midnight, I’m going to kiss you again, and again, and again. Then, after everyone clears out and it’s almost three in the morning, I’m going to turn on your favorite song, and we are going to dance until sunrise.” I say. She smiles, and it’s evident I’m the luckiest man in the world to be speaking to her.

“And then you’ll make me pancakes?” Her voice sings and those damn dimples almost knock me over in a wave of ecstasy as I kiss the palm of her hand.

And then I’ll make her pancakes.

She’s beautiful, my Sunshine, and I hope her glow always lights my way.