Piper

It’s midnight, and I haven’t seen anyone since my little showdown in the kitchen.

Now, as I sit on the porch and slowly gain back my sobriety, gliding lightly in the rocking chair, I regret it all.

I wish I could take it back. I really do.

My chest feels tight, too tight to even take a deep breath.

Tears stream down my cheeks—not many, but when I think about the things I said and how I ruined the holiday for everyone, the tears thicken, landing on my lap.

Here I am, bundled in a coat, with a jacket beneath, infinity scarves, a pair of thermal leggings and my favorite Vintage Company Molly boots, but still freezing my ass off. My tears seem to freeze on my face as the snow falls.

I don’t want to go inside. After I heard everyone go to their rooms and the house became quiet, I snuck up from the basement and came out for some fresh air.

I’m not sure where Matthew is, but I’m certain I’m the last person he wants to see right now.

I sit back in my chair, staring ahead at the rainbow-lit pine trees in front of the cabin. It’s beautiful tonight. So beautiful I actually want to take part in it.

Pushing out of the chair, I walk down the porch steps, the snow crunching beneath my boots as I stop in the yard. I look up at the velvety midnight sky. The stars twinkle, and I feel a slight warmth course through me, just watching the snow flurries fall. This…now this is peaceful.

This is one of the very reasons I find it worth it to come spend my Christmas here. The snowfall. The night sky. The Christmas lights, and how they twinkle. Even the little bells that hang on the trees and jingle whenever the wind blows.

Mom always hangs the bells up. She’d done it since we were children. We used to play a game of ‘find the jingle’. We had to listen and figure out which tree the jingle bells were in and whoever found it first would get extra marshmallows and fudge drizzle in their hot chocolate. Of course, even if we all lost, we still got extra goodies in our cocoa, but it was the competition that made it fun.

I hear the sound of a door shutting behind me and I look back, spotting Matthew walking out the door with his suitcase in hand.

When he comes to the edge of the porch, his lips press, and our eyes lock.

“Hey,” he murmurs, revealing one dimple, half-smiling.

I force a smile. “Hi.” My eyes drop to the suitcase. “I guess I should have seen this coming.”

He glances down, nodding very briefly. “Yeah. I guess.” He sighs. “I…um…I wanted to wait until everyone was sleeping. I thought you would still be in the basement. Didn’t want to disturb you.”

“You’re not disturbing me,” I say, with a step forward. His eyes run all over me. “How are you going to get there?”

“I was going to walk to the nearest gas station, call a cab to take me to the airport.”

“Oh.” I twist my lips. “You don’t have to do that. I can drop you off. There won’t be many cabs running tonight—that is, if you want me to.”

His cheek quirks up to smile. “Only if you’re up for it.”

“Sure. Let me go grab the keys.” He nods, and as I make my way to the house he makes way for the car. I hurry inside and grab the key off the key hook, rushing back outside and meeting him at the car.

Matthew tosses his suitcase in the backseat as we climb in, and when the car is cranked, I turn up the heat, running my palms over my thighs to get them warm.

“Cold,” I say, laughing a little, but he’s not even looking my way. He’s looking out of the window instead, and I see the sadness. It’s all over him. Seeing that he isn’t interested in joking around with me, I put the car in gear, going around the roundabout driveway and then taking the frosty road to town.

We ride in silence the entire ride before finally reaching the airport. Yeah, I really did it this time. I’ve hurt him, cut him deep. I should apologize. What I said wasn’t right. He is a good guy and he could be the perfect guy for any woman, I’m sure.

I park the car and Matthew opens the door and steps out without a word.

“Should I walk you to the gates?” I ask, getting out of the car too.

He shrugs carelessly. “If you want to.”

I follow him to the entryway, glad it will allow me more time to build up a good, memorable apology.

“What time is your flight?” I ask.

“Within the next hour.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Before he can get to the check-in line, he stops, and I wobble on the heels of my boots, avoiding his eyes. Turning to face me, he sets his suitcase down, and blows out a deep breath.

“Before I go, can I tell you something?” His voice is calm and low.

“Sure,” I nod. Anything.”

He turns his head, looking at an empty bench. Picking up his suitcase and then grabbing my hand, he leads the way there, and we sit together.

Confusion swims through me, but I don’t speak. He is probably going to shred me as calmly as possible for being a mega bitch to him.

Dropping his line of sight to his lap, he folds his fingers and then clears his throat. “What you said to your Mom is all true and I’m not upset about it, Piper.”

I blink quickly, but my mouth remains shut.

He continues. “I’m not upset because you’re right. I’m not the perfect guy and I am very good at pretending to be something I’m not. You shouldn’t blame Stanley at all because it’s a good thing he dug into my past. It made me realize how much I have hidden from it—how instead of accepting it and thanking my past for turning me into a better person—I have shied away and regretted so much of it.”

“What’s so bad about your past?” I probe.

He meets my eyes and they glisten from the Christmas lights hanging on the window above us. He drops his head again, and with a thick voice he says, “The reason I freaked out about Stanley knowing is because I have a criminal record. An aggravated battery, assault, and gun charges. I didn’t want you find out about it. Hell, I don’t want anyone finding out about that part of me.”

That is the last thing I expected to hear. I sit back against the bench, trying to form words but all that comes out is, “Oh.”

“I can explain though. Actually, I need to because I’m not just some criminal that goes around escorting women that need a man. I don’t want you thinking I prey on women like that. I got into this because it was a way for me to make good money and getting a decent job with a criminal offense is almost impossible. Someone introduced me to this lifestyle after I got out of jail. I did it to make a living. I’ve always been unsure about continuing it, but I have to tell you that after meeting you…I know now that I really should get out.”

He looks me hard in the eyes, and I want to ask how he could say something like that after putting up with all of my bullshit, but I don’t. I stay quiet, but that doesn’t prevent a blush from creeping up from my neck to my cheeks after his confession.

“I…um…I lost my parents the same year I was charged,” he goes on, deciding to switch the subject. His voice is thicker, sadder. “They ran a family-owned restaurant in Brooklyn. The best pizzeria that ever existed.” He smiles, showing all of his teeth, like he’s proud of that statement.

“But one night, my parents decided to keep the restaurant open late to make a little extra money for the holidays. Unfortunately, it made them very vulnerable and we were in a pretty bad part of the Brook. They were held at gunpoint, robbed from the register and the safe in my father’s office, and then shot. Just like that”—he snaps his fingers—“gone.”

“Oh my God,” I whisper. “Matthew, I’m so sorry.”

He nods his head but doesn’t say anything for a while.

“That’s not the worst of it,” he continues, and I’m glad he breaks the tension and the silence. “The thing is…I was there when it all happened. I was in the basement, watching a baseball game. I heard some commotion but thought nothing of it, but when I heard the gunshots, that’s when I came up to see what was going on. And when I saw what had happened I was…devastated.

“My—my parents’ bodies were in a puddle of blood, both of them lifeless on the floor. And I saw the guy—I saw him running so fast to reach the exit. I rushed after him, but he kept running and glancing back at me. He had a hood on, but I could make out his entire face. He had a full, red beard, beady eyes, and really dingy clothes. I knew when I saw him I would never forget that face. I stopped chasing him because that’s when it hit me. During the midst of the holidays, the day before my birthday, I lost the only people that mattered to me. I ran back in a panic and called the cops.

“The cops came, but I didn’t tell them I saw his face. I didn’t want to because I wanted to handle it myself, somehow. I don’t know. I figured I would come across him one day and take out my revenge. After it all went down, I had to move in with my drunk of an uncle just to keep a roof over my head. Next of kin, all of that shit.

“I got a job at a pawn shop, worked there during the nights to make some money, but it was never enough. I used all of my parents’ savings just so they could have a proper burial. I didn’t have any siblings or close friends. It was a small funeral. Just me, my uncle, and a few employees that worked for them.”

“Oh my gosh. Why are you telling me all of this?” I whisper.

“Because I want you to know why I am the way I am. Why I freaked out a little about the cupcake and can be a little closed off.”

“But there’s nothing wrong with you,” I respond quickly. “You’re a great guy. You’re fine.”

“You don’t know me, Piper. I almost—I almost killed that guy.”

“What?” I gasp, eyes expanding.

He breathes raggedly through his nostrils, focusing on his lap again. “The guy that killed my parents. I was going to kill him.”

I watch him intently—watch as his jaw pulses and his eyes get misty.

“I was working at the pawn shop one night and that bastard came in there with a watch. And not just any watch, it was my father’s watch. A family heirloom—one my dad promised he’d give to me someday. I don’t think he recognized me. Our story was all over the news but they didn’t really show my face, just mentioned that they had a teenage son. He came in with the watch, said he needed to pawn it for some quick cash, and when I saw it I just…I blanked out. I knew that face. I knew it right away. There was so much rage and frustration. But most of all…relief.”

“Relief?” I frown. “Why relief?”

“Because I’d finally found the man that killed my parents. And I swore to myself that if I ever saw him again, I would make him pay for destroying my life—my family. So, I pawned the watch for him, gave him the money, but I kept the watch. As soon as he left, I locked the place up as quickly as possible and followed him home. He lived in a worn-down apartment building, in a really bad part of Brooklyn, but I followed him anyway, and when I found out where he lived, I plotted out just how I would take him down.”

“Did you…hurt him?”

He shakes his head. “No. I waited for a month, but I didn’t do anything to him.”

“Why not?” I ask, suddenly angry for him.

“Trust me,” he says. “I wanted to. I wanted to break his fucking neck, snap his scrawny ass in half, but I didn’t. I broke into his place, barged in with the old handgun my father had, and pointed it at him. And I threatened that I’d shoot him, and he was so fucking scared of me. He kept saying, ‘I knew it. I knew that was you’, and I kept telling him to shut up. He wouldn’t shut up, so I hit him with the gun. And as he lay there, out cold, I held the barrel of the gun to his head and…I tried and tried, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull the trigger. Instead I… just broke down. I was so close, Piper. So damn close to killing him in cold blood. But I didn’t do it. I didn’t because I knew if my parents could tell me anything, they would tell me to let it go—that he wasn’t worth throwing my life away over. They wouldn’t have handled things the way I did.”

He sighs, and the intensity makes my palms sweat. I face him fully, so speechless. Wow. I never would have suspected…

“Yeah. So…I left. Just like that, I left,” he continues. “And a day later, I was found and charged with aggravated battery and assault, put on a restraining order by the killer, and sent to jail.”

“Why didn’t you tell them he was the man who killed your parents?” I exclaim.

“I did and they looked into it, but they never found any proof. Most of what he stole was in cash and he kept it that way. Never put it on a card or anything. He was smart, I’ll give him that. He didn’t leave any prints or any trace of himself. He was in and out, and to this day that fucker roams the streets, doing God knows what.”

“Wow…I—I’m so sorry.”

He looks away, his throat bobbing. “This is why I don’t get attached. Because the people I loved were taken away from me—their lives stolen by someone who never even knew who we were. I don’t get attached because life can take it all away in an instant. I don’t like receiving gifts or celebrating my birthday because my birthday reminds me of the time I spent with my family, and also the day I lost them forever. Truth be told, I really dislike everything about this time of the year,” he chuckles dryly. He looks up, and I don’t believe it, but he’s shed a tear.

“I have never, in my entire life, told anyone that, Piper. But I needed to tell you because I know why you lashed out. I pushed you away—told you we would never be, that it was all just pretend, but it wasn’t. I feel the connection too and feeling it scared the hell out of me because I’m not supposed to care. But I made a mistake by saying that to you and…I don’t know. I’ve thought a lot about this. I know that just like me, you are afraid of committing. Just like me, you don’t want to be hurt. Just like me, you don’t like to get too close to someone outside of family, especially when your heart is involved in all sorts of ways.” He leans closer, grabbing my right hand and squeezing it. “You think I don’t like you?” he whispers, eyes shimmering.

“I don’t know,” I reply softly.

“Piper…you shouldn’t doubt yourself so much. You are unique and funny and sweet and other than what happened in the kitchen a few hours ago, this has been the best Christmas I’ve had since my parents died. When I thought about it earlier—Stanley figuring me out and you growing on me—I freaked out. I got so worried because I felt at home. It felt too real. For the first time in a long time I felt connected.”

My chest burns and I spark inside, fighting a smile. “Are you serious?”

“Dead serious.”

“So…then…if you feel that way, why are we here? Why are you leaving?”

“Because I wasn’t sure if staying would be wise with what they heard, you know?”

“Oh…right.” My lips twist.

“But if you want me to, I can stay. I don’t have to go. We can explain some things, let them know that it was pretend at first…but that we grew on each other more than we knew we would. I think your Mom would call it fate.”

“I know she would. She’d love sharing that story with her friends,” I laugh.

He nods, holding my hands tight. “I like how I feel around you and I want to try for more, even though the more word scares the shit out of me.” He breathes a laugh and I grin like a clown. “Plus…well, the other reason is because I wanted to go before you tried to pay me. This wasn’t just a job to me and I can’t let you think that it was.”

“Are you kidding? Of course I’m paying you. I have to! Look at what I put you through!” I squeeze his hand, and then I wrap my arms around his neck, resting my forehead on his. “Matthew, I am so sorry about what I said earlier. I really am.”

“I know you didn’t mean any of it. But now I know I shouldn’t make a tipsy Piper angry.”

I laugh. “I’m sorry,” I whisper again, “Can you ever forgive me?” I ask, and he nods, immediately pressing his lips on mine. I shut my eyes and allow his full, warm lips to consume me.

He is a fantastic kisser. Lips so smooth and soft, a complete contrast to his hard, delicious body. When our lips part, his mouth splits into a smile, and he holds me close, so close I never want him to pull away.

“You shouldn’t go.” It’s supposed to be a statement, but it feels more like I’m begging.

“I don’t think I should either.”

I study his eyes, the sincerity that runs deep. He watches my reaction, his head going into a slight tilt.

I lean back a little, dropping my arms and grabbing his hands. “I think—if you are willing to try...well, we can make the next few hours really magical. I know it’s not Christmas anymore and all, but I think I owe everyone smiles, and a reason to laugh at my craziness. And ‘everyone’ includes you.”

“Magical?” He smirks. “Is that what you really want? Something magical with a guy like me?”

“I don’t want to answer that. I don’t want to think too hard about it.” I pause, looking him over. “I just want to see what happens.”

His eyes lower to my lips. “I think that’s a good idea.”

“So…about you never seeing your clients after the deal is done?”

He laughs, so deeply it makes my belly roll. “You are my exception, angel.”

I grin. “You really don’t hate me?”

“I could never hate someone like you.”

“You have no idea how glad I am to hear that.”

“I do have one question, though.” He looks at me with uncertainty.

“What?”

“Just how in the hell are you going to explain what just happened between us to your family?”

I bust out in a laugh, releasing his hands. “That is actually a good question that I honestly don’t know how to answer!”

He chuckles. “I think it will be okay after a little explaining. Your family may seem a little dysfunctional and crazy and stubborn sometimes, but they really are great people, Piper. They made me feel like I was a part of their family—even Stanley did, even after he knew all about me.”

“He did?”

“Yes.”

“Damn it,” I hiss.

“What?” His eyebrows lift.

“That means I have to make another sincere, personal apology to him, too.” I sigh.

“What did you say to him?”

“What did I not say? I pretty much told him since Macy died that he has no life.”

Matthew hisses through his teeth, making a face as if those words physically sting him.

“I know. I felt so bad, especially when he told me he was only looking out for me and that he would take a bullet for me.”

“I think he really would. Stanley’s a good man.”

“I know.” I groan. “I need a drink…or four.”

Matthew pulls back. “What do you say we go to a bar, grab a few? Make up over whiskey kisses beneath staged mistletoes?”

I beam. “I’d love that.”

“Okay…but first…” Matthew stands up, grabs my hand, and tugs me up against him. I bump into his solid chest, his eyes turning hot and soft when our bodies meet. “I need you to kiss me like you mean it right now—like the last thing you want me to do is board that plane and walk away from you. Can you do that for me?”

I laugh. “Of course I can do that.”

The sound of his laughter warms me up inside like a fountain of chocolate fondue, and when it finally settles down, we stick together like glue, our lips collide, and I kiss him like I mean it.

Because I do mean this.

Every embrace. Every sweep of his tongue—all of it is so real and so perfect. I don’t think any of it was ever fake.

Isn’t it funny how we started off on a bench as strangers, with no hope for one another, and now, in front of this bench, it feels like we’ve known one another lifetimes before this?

I sigh and like some chick in a romantic holiday movie, I kick a leg in the air behind me, letting him devour every ounce of me.

I hold onto him, never wanting to let go.

I hold on because I could use a lot more of him in my discombobulated life. I want to learn about his hopes and dreams, how he loves and cuddles.

I like how he has taught me things about my body; that he can play with me like an instrument. I like that he made me feel so comfortable that I could tell him literally anything before he even met my family, and he never told any of them what I said, no matter how much they pushed.

We both had fears.

We had insecurities and uncertainties after that first sexual encounter.

But you know what? It’s okay. Now that we are willing to try…well, the fears and regrets mean nothing. They can’t compare to an indescribable feeling like this.

Being wanted by someone who sees you for who you are.

Being respected by someone who honestly doesn’t owe you a damn thing.

Feeling human again—so beautiful inside that you believe not even the universe can handle you.

Commitment? Yeah, it still terrifies me, but when it involves someone like Matthew Cooper—well, let’s just say it doesn’t seem so bad after all.

If someone asked me what the greatest gift I got for Christmas this year was, I’d tell them it was meeting Matthew Cooper. Without him, this Christmas would have been just another dreadful family vacation. I would have been just another hopeless woman, drowning herself in wine and eggnog.

Our kiss breaks, and Matthew cups my face in his hands. His smile is gentle, his features softer now.

“Merry Christmas, Matthew Cooper,” I sing. “You have made this Christmas worth so much more than you think.”

He leans back to look at me, wearing a smile, clearly pleased by my statement. Then he kisses me, so deeply, so passionately that for a split second, it feels like he just might love me.

With a sweet, boyish grin, he says to me, “Merry Christmas, Piper Madison. You crazy…beautiful…sweet girl.” Between each word is a kiss. First on my cheek, and then my forehead, and lastly on my lips. Heat tunnels right through me, a warm puddle building in my panties.

“Now come on. Let’s get back to the cabin. Our holiday isn’t over yet.” He wiggles his eyebrows, smirks, and then walks over to grab the handle of his suitcase.

Yep. Ladies and gentleman, we have a winner. Matthew Cooper, former escort of mine, is definitely worth breaking all of the rules for.

Even though they get on my nerves constantly, I wouldn’t ask that my family be any other way. They welcomed Matthew with open arms, and I know when I tell them all about this scheme of mine, they will be laughing about it later on with me.

It’s things like that—the understanding, the family, and the love—that makes the holidays worthwhile. You won’t get another Mom and Dad, or sister or brother. Family is supposed to piss you off.

You’ll say you don’t care—that you’d be fine without them, but even when all of that is said and done, you’d still take drastic measures like I did and hire a male escort just to please them.

It’s not silly or stupid or anything like that.

It’s called love, and for the love of the people we have, we will do anything to hold onto them.

So, no, this Christmas wasn’t a bust.

I really don’t think I could have asked for a more perfectly imperfect Christmas.

It is one I will never, ever forget.

After all, it’s the little things that always turn into the greatest memories later on, and despite all that went down—through all the drama and all the madness—I have to say this was our greatest by far.

Well, my greatest by far, and it will stay in my heart forever.