“Freedom!” Christian blurts out as he comes racing into his room, excited like a child on Christmas morning, and with the holidays just around the corner, why shouldn’t he be?
I spin, his loud voice and high energy surprising me. I love his enthusiasm and I am excited to go home for a couple of weeks, but maybe I’m a little less excited than he is, which sounds awful and selfish. After spending all my time at Christian’s—thank you, broken pipe—I’m not quite ready to go home. He’ll be going his way, and I’ll be going mine, and honestly since the accident, I’ve not gone more than a day without seeing him. He still disappears on Sundays for a few hours, and whatever he’s doing he’s keeping it secret. I have to respect that—and try not to read too much into it—because I know he’s a very private person. But even when he was on the road for a game, we always texted or video messaged. I’ve gotten entirely too used to it.
“I take it you did well on your exam,” I say, as I fold our laundry. Crazy that we’ve been doing our laundry together since Thanksgiving, our clothes and underwear mingling in the washer and dryer. It’s odd how that makes me giggle just a little bit.
“Fantastic. How did yours go?”
I crinkle my nose. “It went.”
“Come on, you’ve been studying for weeks. You must have nailed it. Or maybe you weren’t studying like you said you were. I could never find you when I went to the library. You always just seemed to have…” he pauses to do quotes around the words, ‘Just finished.’ He arches his brow playfully, but I don’t miss the questions lingering in his eyes—was I really at the library, and if not, why would I lie about it? He’s going to find out soon.
I gaze at the man who has worked his way into my heart. Honestly, I don’t want our time to be over and I’m damn tired of being afraid that he doesn’t care for me the way I care for him. He’s kind, sincere, always there for me. I can’t help but think he wouldn’t be if he didn’t want something deeper. This goes beyond responsibility for hitting me with the ball. This morning when I woke, I came to the conclusion that right after Christmas, when we agreed this arrangement would end, I’d have a talk with him on the way home in the car, and get to the bottom of where we stand once and for all.
“Yeah, your timing really sucks, and speaking of nailed it,” I tease, wanting to change the subject, because he’s right. Most times I fibbed, saying I was at the library, even though I wasn’t. I don’t like to lie, but those little ones were quite necessary. Living here with him, and being together all the time, prevented me from having too much alone time, and alone time was needed for what I’ve been planning.
“Oh, something on your mind?” He pulls me into his arms and plants a kiss onto my mouth like it’s the most natural thing in the world…like I’m his and he’s mine.
“We both rushed out of here so fast, with nothing but a granola bar in our stomachs, I’m thinking of food.”
“You want to grab a late breakfast before we hit the road home?”
I give him a mischievous smile. “Something like that.”
“Drive to Juleps Café?”
“Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of having breakfast here.” I run my hands through his mess of hair, and smooth it back to showcase his handsome face. Unable to help myself, I lean into him and press a soft kiss to his lips. I linger there for a moment, and expel a contented sigh.
“I can make us something,” he says.
“Nope, I’m cooking,” I whisper back. “I am your servant, right?”
He laughs. “You know I was kidding. I just wanted into your panties.”
I grin. “Still, I want to cook.”
He slaps my ass. “Okay, let me wash up and we’ll cook.” He goes into the bathroom and he speaks over the running tap. “You must be excited to see your Mom tonight.”
“I can’t wait. How about you? What’s Christmas like for you?” I once again almost ask him if he’d like to spend time at my place. But I don’t want to put the cart before the horse. We need to have an honest and open conversation before I even let Mom know he exists, because there’s a chance this is all in my head.
He peeks his head out as he wipes his wet hands on a towel. “My family will be there. Grandmother, and cousins and some aunts and uncles. Pretty much the one and only time we’re all together.”
“You must be looking forward to that, and having all the family around the dining room table for Christmas dinner.” I used to dream about such things. Living in a fancy house, with a big family, all laughing around the table as we exchange stories. I guess it’s not really like it’s portrayed in the movies, and while it’s only Mom and me, we have the nicest time.
He gives a humorless laugh. “Oh yeah, watching Mom and Dad pretend to like each other. It’s like dinner and a movie.”
I laugh at that as he comes from the room and put my hands on his chest to stop him. “Sit,” I tell him and point to his favorite comfy chair.
“I thought we were cooking.”
I hand him the remote. “I’m sure there’s some game on somewhere. You sit, and I’m bringing breakfast to you.”
He grabs my hand and tugs until my mouth is inches from his. “What are you up to, Maize Malone?”
I give him a quick peck. “You’ll find out.”
As he continues to eye me, I grin at him, and give a little finger wave as I exit his room and tug the door shut behind me. I might not have the money to get him a proper Christmas gift, but that doesn’t mean I can’t give him something I know he likes. Besides, Christmas isn’t about the amount you spend, it’s about spending time and doing nice things for those you care about. That’s my look on it, anyway.
I hurry to the kitchen and get straight to work. I might not have been studying those times at the library, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t been learning new things. I put all my focus into what I’m doing and less than thirty minutes later, I find a serving tray beside the fridge, and place our plates, and mugs of coffee on it, putting only sugar in Christian’s. I head back up to his room, and the sound of a football game on the TV reaches my ears.
Unable to open the door, I give it a couple taps with my foot and the next thing I know, Christian is standing on the other side of the door, his jaw slack when his gaze drops to the tray.
“What the hell?”
I laugh a little, giddy inside that I can surprise him like this.
“Can I come in?”
“What did you do?” he asks as I move past him and set the food down onto his small table, and put one plate where he sits, and one where I sit. Then I set our coffees down.
“I made us a late breakfast.”
He scratches his head, perplexed. “You made eggs benny?”
“I did.” I wave to his chair. “Sit down and dig in.”
He’s still a little shocked as he drops into the chair, picks up his fork, and takes his first bite. “Jesus,” he says around a mouthful of egg and hollandaise sauce. “This tastes just like the eggs benny at Juleps.”
“I know.”
“What did you do?” he asks again as he takes a sip of coffee and moans.
I push to my feet, lean across the table and plant a kiss on his mouth. “Merry Christmas, Christian.”
“This is the best Christmas present ever. Even the coffee is perfect.”
I laugh at that. “I thought you might like it, and I have a confession.” His brow raises. “I borrowed a friend’s car and drove to Juleps. I had a nice conversation with your favorite server, and she got me this recipe. I’ve been practicing. That’s why you could never find me at the library. I was taking my mistakes to my Kaitlyn and my roommates. They’re kind of sick of eggs and hollandaise.”
“You’ve got to be kidding me.” His smile is so sweet, and sincere it wraps around my heart and tugs tight. I am so damn crazy about this guy.
“You’re the best, Maize Malone.”
“Yeah, I know.”
We both laugh and talk about our exams as we eat, and once the plates are cleared, Christian insists on doing up the dishes while I finish packing. I walk around the room, and note how many things I actually have here now. I flick through the TV stations and turn on a talk show as I gather a few of my clothes and toss them into my bag. I don’t need many, since I still have things at Mom’s. I grab my toiletries from the bathroom, and before I shove my laptop into my backpack, I open it and check my messages. A gasp catches in my throat when I see one from Dean Saunders. I sink down onto the bed, my heart jumping into my throat. I read the message once, and then again. The door opens and I can’t stop grinning when Christian walks in.
He comes toward me, his gaze going from my face to my laptop back to my face. “What?”
“You’re not going to believe this,” I squeal.
“Try me.”
I set my laptop down, and throw my arms around him. “Dean Saunders received my application, and wants to have a conversation over the holidays. He asked me to set up a time.”
Christian picks me up and spins me around. “I knew he’d been impressed, Maize.”
“I can’t believe this.”
He kisses my forehead and sets me on my feet. “I can. You worked hard for this.”
I tap his nose and grin. “Our dinner in Aspen didn’t hurt, either. You’re a big part of this, Christian. Thank you.”
“No thanks needed.” He slaps my ass. “Now message him back, and then let’s get going. I’m sure you’re going to want to tell your mom this news in person.”
“Do you think tomorrow is too soon to set up a call?”
“The sooner the better,” he says.
I open my laptop and respond and not expecting an answer so fast, I’m about to close it when his email pops up, giving me a time. “It’s a go. We’re on for tomorrow.”
“Nice. Your mom is going to be so proud of you.” He makes a fist and nudges my chin playfully. “I know I am.”
I honestly love how he thinks of my mother, and really seems to cherish the relationship we have. I hate that his mother and father are so absent. He deserves so much better than that. I finish getting my things together and less than an hour later, we head to his car.
“I really appreciate you driving me home.” Kaitlyn had finished up yesterday and had no problem waiting an extra day to drive me home, but Christian jumped at the chance.
“Oh, did you think I was driving you home?” he says his lips twitching. “I’m just driving you to the closest bus stop.”
“After that meal I just made, I’d think a rolled out red carpet from Wolf House to the car was in order.”
He tosses our bags into the trunk and something moves over his face, something I can’t quite identify. Reaching past me, he opens my door and I slide in. I take his dark, contemplative expression as he circles the Jeep and slides in beside me.
“You okay?” I ask.
He puts on a smile. “I’m good.”
I study his profile as he backs out of his spot, and I don’t get the sense that he’s good at all. His quick change of mood is enough to give me whiplash, but I go silent and chalk it up to going home. We both have very different things waiting for us.
When one of my favorite songs comes on the radio, I jack it up and sing along, and I don’t care that I can’t carry a tune or that Christian is grinning at me. I shake my head and laugh. It’s crazy how far Christian and I have come since high school. Never in a million years would the old me believe that I’d be in his car singing, or in his bed fucking. Although lately, his touch has felt far more emotional than physical.
“You have to guide me,” he says when we get close to home, and I nod, having forgotten that he doesn’t know where I live. I was the poor girl who took three buses to get to his school. I guide him through town, and point to the house two doors down from mine—Ryan’s house.
He leans toward me and glances out the window. “This is where you grew up?” I turn and take in the small white bungalow with the broken shutter to the left of the main window. Ryan and I broke that when we were playing in the yard one day and it’s been like that for years.
“No, actually, I live in the gray house back there.”
He turns to look, a frown pulling at his face. “Then why are we here?”
I crinkle my nose almost apologetically. “If Mom sees me being dropped off by a guy, I’ll never hear the end of it.” He turns the radio down, like he needs quiet to tell me something, but a bang has both our heads lifting. I turn and see Ryan come rushing from his front door. He pulls open my door, and practically drags me out.
“Wait, I’m belted in,” I say laughing, and once I get it unlatched, he drags me to him and gives me a big hug. For a second, I think I hear a growl rumbling in Christian’s throat. I turn to him, and he’s glaring at us, his fingers tapping the steering wheel.
“Hey, little Maize Daisy,” Ryan says, and I whack him.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Who’s your friend?” Christian asks, his voice a measure deeper.
“Christian, this is Ryan. You remember me mentioning him.” He nods, slowly, and sizes up Ryan. “Ryan this is Christian, uh, my friend.”
Ryan leans forward to see Christian, and I can almost hear his brain spinning. “Nice to meet you, Christian.”
“Yeah, same.”
Suddenly, like a lightbulb just went off in his head, Ryan says, “Christian…wait…” he glances at me. “Is this the same Christian who—”
“Thanks for the drive, Christian,” I blurt out, not wanting to talk about that closet incident right now. “Can you pop the back so I can get my things?”
“I’ll get them,” Ryan says.
Christian kills the ignition and climbs from the car. Without a word, he goes to the back of the Jeep, opens the door and pulls out my bag. He hands it to me, and there is almost a frightening intensity about him when he glances over my shoulder at Ryan—no wonder he’s so intimidating on the football field—and says, “You good, Maize?”
“I’m…good.”
His head dips and his knuckles brush mine. He opens his mouth like he wants to say something, then scrubs his face, and turns from me. He taps his hands on the roof of the Jeep before he gets in, and says, “Knock Saunders dead, okay?”
“I will. Merry Christmas, Christian.”
He stares at me long and hard before he says, “Merry Christmas,” and I’m not sure why, but it sounded a whole lot more like goodbye.