IT’S CHRISTMAS MORNING, AND I’M alone. It’s not the first time, and I’m certain it won’t be the last. I meander around my grossly-oversized hotel room. I don’t like it. I’m more accustomed to small spaces. Tara loves it, though, and I guess that’s worth something. I’d do almost anything to make her happy, even enlist my best friend in a surprise threesome. Fuck. That was insane. The girl makes me do crazy things. She makes me crazy period.
Crazy happy, that is.
I stare out the window and watch the snow fall lightly to the ground below. The cars are dusted, but the streets are too warm for any accumulation. I love it when it snows just like this.
I could stand here and get lost in it all day, but Tara inspired me. She actually had the balls to invite me over for Christmas dinner; appalled at the fact I was going to be alone. I politely declined. As much as I love the thought of spending the day with her, I would rather like to avoid her father trying to poison me for sleeping with his daughter. Our relationship hasn’t quite reached that point yet. But she did make me think. I haven’t seen my family in nearly three years, so I figured while I was here, Christmas at their house was a much safer bet. My mother nearly shredded my eardrums when I called her and told her I was coming last night. It made my chest ache in a way it hadn’t in a very long time.
It’s nearly twelve by the time I’m ready to leave. It’s only an hour drive to Connecticut, and they won’t serve dinner until three. Plenty of time to spend with my mother, stepfather, and two half-sisters.
I grab my coat from the arm of the sofa, and just before I open the door, I remember my pocket watch. One day it will not elude me.
I grab it off the nightstand and shove it in my pants pocket, letting the chain hang out. Now, I am finally ready.
I open the door to hurry out when I come face to face with a gorgeous blonde in a long black coat.
“Hey,” she says, sweetly taking in my attire.
“Hey, yourself.” I smile back at her like the dope I am, pleasantly surprised.
“Are you going out?”
“I am. What are you doing here?”
“I felt bad you were spending Christmas alone, but I think I should have called first.” She bites her lip.
Well, this is a predicament. I’m looking forward to seeing my family, but I don’t want to pass up an opportunity to spend time with Tara either. We have so little of it as it is. I smile inwardly to myself.
“I’m going to see my family. Why don’t you come?”
“Come?” She raises her eyebrows. “To meet your parents?” she echoes unsurely.
“Yeah.” I shut the door behind me and slip my arm around her, basically making the decision for her.
“You sure?” she asks as we walk down the hall to the elevator.
“Of course, I’m sure.” We step inside and I hit the button for the lobby. “You are wearing clothes underneath that coat, right?”
She looks up me with an impish grin. “Maybe.”
AFTER TARA FLASHED ME HER outfit in the elevator, we headed to Greenwich, Connecticut. The town I grew up in. Although my parents divorced, my home was far from broken. I was blessed with a grandfather who raised me, a stepfather who loved me like his own, and two beautiful younger sisters. But there is no one more important to me than my mother. I don’t visit enough, call enough, do anything, really, that is enough. But she never complains and she is always there when I need her no matter what. It has been that way my entire life. I thanked her once (I have thanked her many times) and she told me a ‘thank you’ isn’t necessary. The best way to repay her love is with grandchildren. I was twenty at the time and nearly passed out. But I think of that conversation often, more so now than ever. I glance at Tara sitting in the front seat next to me and almost scoff. In my wildest dreams, Tara Stevens would ever become Tara Carmichael and then be crazy enough to carry my child. It’s nice to fantasize, but I know where I live, and that is reality.
“Holy shit.” Tara nearly breaks her neck looking out the rental car window as I pull down the driveway that’s almost half a mile long.
“This is where you grew up?” The awe is blatant in her voice.
“Yup,” I confirm. Greenwich is not what you would call a poor town.
I’m not one to flaunt my family’s money, but we have tons of it.
I park in front, and as we step out of the car, my palms suddenly start to sweat.
Tara gazes over at me with an unsure expression.
“I think I am a little out of my element,” she admits nervously.
That makes two of us right now.
“It will be fine.” I take her hand and assure her. “My family is wonderful, and they will love you.”
“I’m taking your word as bond.” She squeezes my fingers tightly as we stroll up the brick walkway to the massive mahogany front door.
I smile as I ring the bell. A few seconds later, there is a loud squeal. “He’s here!” And my sister Cara opens the door. Tara and I are greeted by the entire family all at once. I barely have time to introduce her as Cara and my other sister, Camille, attack me with hugs and kisses. It’s been so long, and they look so different. So grown up since the last time I saw them. Both with long dark hair like my mother and big brown eyes like mine.
“Christopher!” My stepfather, Richard, pulls me into a quick hug.
“What happened to your arm?” I ask as we are led out of the cold.
He holds up his wrist with the brace. “Carpal tunnel syndrome. Can you believe it?”
“I can, knowing how many emails you shoot out.” I laugh.
“Comes with the territory.”
I look over to see my mom standing in the foyer grinning from ear to ear. I give her the biggest hug I can manage, lifting her right off the ground.
“It is about time my soldier came home.”
“Ex-soldier,” I correct her.
“I’ll never buy that.” She winks turning her attention on Tara, who looks a little overwhelmed but trying desperately to handle it.
“Mom, this is my . . . friend, Tara Stevens.”
“It’s very nice to meet you . . .” Tara smiles sweetly, realizing she doesn’t know exactly what to call her.
“Samantha,” my mother returns, eying her discreetly from head to toe.
We all head into the great room where I know drinks are flowing and appetizers are set out. Family tradition—while Christmas dinner is cooking, the family hangs out socializing and watching football. What did you expect? Just because we’re rich doesn’t mean we don’t know how to have fun.
“CJ, Tara? What would you like to drink?” Richard asks from behind the bar.
“Are you still serving your famous hot toddy?” I ask.
“Of course! It wouldn’t be Christmas without it!” My stepfather is the typical CEO. A well-trimmed man who wears sweater vests and has gray hair, but is surprisingly charismatic and outgoing.
“Tara, would you like one?”
She looks back and forth between Richard and me. “What is it exactly?”
“It’s hot tea mixed with brandy, lemon, and honey. It’s divine. Come on, I’ll show you.” He escorts her into the kitchen so he can boil the water.
After they’re gone, my sisters pounce like wild cats.
“Somebody has a girlfriend,” Camille teases me.
“A really young, pretty one. CJ is robbing the cradle,” Cara adds.
“Will you two be quiet. We’re friends.” My sisters are twelve and thirteen years my junior and have always been adorable, little thorns in my side.
“Where did you find her? A high school parking lot?” They continue to heckle me.
“She’s older than both of you. Now shut up or I will hang your Barbies from the ceiling fan again.”
They both gasp. “You’re so mean!” Camille scolds me.
“And you’re so annoying,” I fire back, causing all three of us to erupt into laughter. It echoes around the whole room.
I swear no matter how long I’m away, things never change.
As soon as Tara and Richard re-enter the room, my sisters turn their sights on her, pelting her with questions.
“Where are you from?”
“Where did you go to high school?”
“Sisters, brothers?” Yada, yada.
“Is your hair color real?” That one made me laugh.
Tara barely bats an eyelash as she goes toe to toe with the two of them. I’m impressed, I’ll admit. The duo can be quite intimidating when they gang up on someone.
“How did you and CJ meet?” Cara asks.
“He’s best friends with my brother-in-law,” Tara answers, half done with her hot toddy.
Cara and Camille both laugh, hysterically.
“CJ doesn’t have friends,” Camille says, nearly doubled over.
I take offense to their response, but before I can defend myself, Tara swoops in.
“CJ has friends. Trust me.” The way she says ‘trust me’ turns the tables on the conversation, leaving my sisters curious, and Tara and I snickering. I know exactly what she’s getting at, the privy information about our threesome with Slade. Tara is so bold sometimes she astounds me.
After a little more casual conversation (interrogation is more like it), we move into the dining room to eat.
The table is decked out like always with my mother’s best holiday china, a huge turkey that could feed twenty, and all the trimmings. She even lights Christmas tree pillar candles for added décor. I hear Tara inhale an impressed breath as we sit down next to each other.
“This is the most beautiful Christmas dinner I have ever seen. It looks like it belongs in a magazine,” she whispers.
I just smile and place my hand on her thigh. “My mom likes to go all out.”
“Mine does, too, but this is incredible.”
Richard says grace, and then we all dig in. I beam throughout dinner as I watch Tara charm the pants off every single one of my family members, feeling my mother’s eyes on me every now and again. I try to avoid looking at her by keeping up with the conversation, but her keen stare is impossible to ignore. I know she has an opinion about Tara, and I guarantee by the end of the night that I’ll hear what it is.
Dinner comes and goes, and I find myself sad the time is moving so fast. Sometimes, I get so wrapped up in work, I don’t realize how much I miss them.
Everyone helps to clear the table and then moves back into the great room where we will have dessert. My mom likes to put out a buffet and let us pick at it throughout the night. I take in the turkey platter for Richard since he is physically challenged at the moment. It still has half an uncarved bird on it. I see leftovers for a year. I place the large silver platter on the kitchen island as my mom rinses the dishes in the sink. I give her a quick peck on the cheek before I head into the great room. It appears Tara, Cara, and Camille have become quite comfortable with each other, and I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing for me.
“Christopher,” my mother calls, using that paternal tone.
I stop dead in my tracks and turn on my heel.
“Yes?” I lean against the island directly across from her.
She wipes her hands on a dishtowel and turns to look at me with an astute gaze.
“I like Tara,” she says.
“I’m glad. I like her too,” I reply noncommittally.
“She’s very young.”
Bingo. I knew this was going somewhere.
“She’s younger, yes.”
“You must care about her very much if you brought her home to meet us.”
I open my mouth to respond but then think twice. I don’t want to give my mother—or Tara—the wrong impression.
“Mom. I do like Tara, a lot, but don’t read too much into her being here.”
My mother snorts and actually gets in my face. “Christopher John, you can lie to yourself, but you can never lie to me. I know you. You’ve only brought home three girls in your entire life. Your high school sweetheart, that bitch who dumped you, and Tara. You seem very happy with her, and she seems very happy with you. I just don’t want to see you break that poor girl’s heart because your lives are in two different places.”
I huff, crossing my arms. “I hear what you’re saying, trust me. But Tara and I went into this with our eyes open, okay? And the last thing I would ever do is make her promises I can’t keep or hurt her intentionally in any way.”
“Good.” She smiles satisfied, patting my chest with both hands. “I love that you’re here.”
I smile back at her. “Me too.”
“I’m glad to hear that. Now, take this into the great room for me.” She hands me a bowl of sugar and a small pitcher of cream for the coffee.
“Yes, ma’am.”
In the great room, Richard is watching television, and I think Tara, Cara, and Camille are plotting my death by the way they are huddled together, staring at me next to the glamorously decorated Christmas tree.
I set the sugar and milk down on the table and take a seat at the baby grand piano in the corner of the large room. Its location is optimal for spying and watching my back all at the same time.
Tara comes to sit next to me a few minutes later, all bright smiles and shiny eyes.
“Having a good time?” I put my arm around her.
“Yes.” She hits one of the white ivory keys. “Your family is very nice.”
“Yeah.” I look around the room. “They’re pretty great. It’s been a long time since I spent a holiday with them.”
“That’s sad. You should try harder to see them.”
If it was only that easy. I smile wistfully at Tara, thinking about what my mother said. I could picture us doing this every year, but that future is just not in the cards. Not with my job, or our age difference, or anything.
“What’s your favorite Christmas carol?” She hits more keys and a faint sound reverberates.
“Why? Are you going to sing?” I nudge her.
“Would that be weird?” She wrinkles her nose.
“No. Usually by now Richard would be playing Silent Night for everyone.”
“Is that it?” She places both hands on the ivories.
“No. Carol of the Bells is mine,” I tell her, realizing she’s serious.
“You would like a canon.” She starts to play the notes that give me goose bumps as everyone in the room turns their attention on us.
“You play!” Richard exclaims jovially. Then Tara starts to sing, and the sound pierces straight through my heart. Her voice is almost angelic. I actually get chills as she hits the high notes and pounds on the piano keys. By the second verse, everyone is crowded around us, enamored by Tara as she belts out the words. Listening and watching her, something shifts inside me. This woman is spectacular. I don’t think I can say I’ve ever used that word to describe a human being, but with Tara, it fits. She’s so talented and captivating; I can hardly believe she’s mine.
But she isn’t really, though, is she?
But she could be, couldn’t she?
Tara finishes the song to applause and leaves me with emotion bursting in my chest. My mother was right. What I feel for Tara is something more than just casual. Since we’ve been together everything around me seems bolder and brighter. Is that what love is? Is that what this is? The only thing I’m truly sure of is she’s becoming everything, the center of my universe, and if that’s not love, I don’t know what is.
“Sing another one!” Camille exclaims, and Tara blushes.
“Go on,” I urge her.
“Any requests?” she asks, becoming our entertainment for the night.