Holiday Escort: A Christmas Novella (9 page)

P
iper

I
t’s
Christmas Day and it is dragging on. Emphasis on the word dragging.

It’s the same thing every year. After we unwrap presents, we eat a Christmas breakfast that consists of waffles, muffins, scrambled eggs, and sausage. Coffee comes in handy with all the energy Mom can somehow conjure up. Sometimes it’s hard to keep up with her.

I avoid Matthew as much possible, but not enough for others to notice. Of course
he
does. I can feel him looking at me, and during breakfast he even asked me if we could have a word alone.

I told him ‘no’, got up to clean off my plate, and then went to work on some stuff for the magazine in “our” bedroom for a few hours.

Fortunately, there is an extra room here and I made use of it last night, tossing and turning as I tried to sleep. It was a horrible experience, but only because I couldn’t get
him
off of my mind.

It’s about four in the afternoon now and in about fifteen minutes everyone will be outside for the annual Madison family snowball fight.

I am not up for it this year. I love a good snowball fight, but with Matthew around and the truth circulating, I can’t get into it.

While everyone is being bombarded by snow, I’m drowning myself in glasses of red wine and responding to a few emails from Jen at the kitchen counter.

She’s not having the best of time with her family, either. I’m certain if my family wasn’t so overbearing she’d rather be here than there. Too bad they are.

As I send off an email, I hear the front door shut and Stanley shows up in the kitchen moments later.

“Woo!” He dusts off the snow, rubbing his hands together to warm them up. “You are missing one hell of a fight out there, Pipey! Matthew has a fucking cannonball for an arm.” He shrugs out of his coat, walking for the fridge. “Did he play baseball before?”

His question is asked almost like he already knows the answer.

“How would I know?” I mutter rhetorically. “If anyone has that
background
information, it’d be you.”

He steps up to the counter, smirking as he chugs down his beer. I don’t think he catches my sarcasm. “You should know things like that—what sports he played, how he likes his coffee, what cologne he wears… right?” he muses.

I shut my laptop, picking up my glass of wine and walking towards the exit of the kitchen. I can’t be around Stanley. I might blow up on him.

I can hear Jana and Joey squealing like piglets and Mom shouting how someone is cheating. It sounds like fun, but I think I’m a little too tipsy to bother. I guess I’ll go to the basement and watch some
Sex and the City
on the big screen.

“Wait—Piper,” Stanley calls before I can escape. I turn, groaning as I roll my eyes.

“What, Stanley?”

He holds his hands out, confusion masking his face. “Hey—you’ve been avoiding me more than ever lately. What’s going on with you?”

What the—hold on
! Is he fucking kidding me? After all he’s said to Matthew he thinks he can pretend he doesn’t know what’s going on?

I step towards him, thinning my eyes. “You really have the balls to ask me that question right now?”

He laughs nervously. “Well, yeah. You’re usually the life around here. The only one I can really goof off with. Things seem a bit dull between us.”

“Okay.” I walk to the kitchen island where he’s standing and place my glass down. “Stop acting like you don’t know what’s going on. Because
you
wanted to be nosy and do some digging, you have ruined
everything
between Matthew and me! I mean seriously! Are you so bored and miserable without Macy that you had to go digging into Matthew’s business?”

He stares at me, a blank expression. I think I’ve just fired some serious shots. I’ve unleashed anger that was never supposed to escape. I guess this is goodbye to me being his favorite, but I can’t take it back now.

Stanley had no right. Why couldn’t he just accept Matthew like everyone else and move the hell on?

I care, but at the same time I don’t, because if he’d never opened his damn mouth to Matthew, I wouldn’t be trying to avoid him and Matthew wouldn’t be so hesitant to make a move now. Matthew, I’m sure, is ready to zoom right through the exit as soon as his time with me is finished.

I know I’ve ruined things too, by avoiding and ignoring him, but it had to happen because my idiotic brother wanted to dab into someone else’s life.

Stanley stands up straight, running a hand through his hair and then across his face. His face is much whiter now, the color completely drained from it.

“Wow, is that really how you feel? Like I ruined everything?”

“How the hell else should I feel? Everything was fine before you put a scare into him.”

The kitchen becomes quiet, and Stanley puts his beer bottle down, dropping his head.

“Piper,” he says quietly. “The only reason I did it is because I am your brother and I love you. I want nothing but the best for you and if looking into someone to make sure you don’t end up hurt later was selfish of me, then I guess I can live with that because I don’t regret it. I would take a bullet for you without hesitation. I will do whatever it takes to protect you… but I guess you don’t see it that way, which is cool. I just… I thought you would understand, is all. You didn’t tell anyone about this guy. Not even me. I had my reasons to be suspicious.”

He forces a smile at me, but it’s broken and sad. My eyes welt and guilt automatically eats my heart out as he walks around me, leaving the kitchen and walking out the back door.

Damn it, Stanley!
Why couldn’t he have said that before I spewed all of those mean words?

Now I feel like shit.

My head drops and I blow a defeated sigh. Regret washes through me. I know Stanley doesn’t have much of a life without Macy. I shouldn’t have said that. That was so wrong of me.

My heart breaks for him and I feel so awful because I know deep down he was doing it with my best interests at heart. He has always done things like this for me, and most of the time because I hinted at it.

I never asked him to look into Matthew, and I never would have told him to.

Stanley never meant any harm, I’m certain of it. And I’d do the same for him if it meant I was protecting him.

The front door opens and Mom walks in, covered in snow. She spots me in the kitchen as she enters, pulling off one of her gloves.

“Hey, sweetie,” she chimes. “You aren’t going to come out for the snowball fight? Gotta tell ya, Matthew has great aim! He’s been hitting everyone!” She steps in front of me, smiling like a schoolgirl. “He is such a fun, loveable guy!”

I try so hard not to roll my eyes.

She’s so happy to brag about him, so cheerful about a guy she thinks will be her future son-in-law. But he isn’t hers to brag about, and I hope she hasn’t told any of her friends because Matthew doesn’t deserve that either.

She continues raving about him, complimenting every highlight and little thing he has done so far on this trip. I have never heard her talk about
me
like this. It’s almost as if—almost as if she wished I’d met him sooner. Someone to pick up my slack, make me into the wife and mother she wants me to be.

“It’s a good thing you met him,” she says for like the hundredth time. “He is patient, compassionate, sweet, fun, and he doesn’t take things to heart like you always do. He’s your polar opposite, which happens to be a good thing because opposites tend to make the best couples. I guess I can see why he fell for you. You are a beautiful girl, but honey,” she groans, grabbing the hem of my shirt, “you have to give up these kind of clothes. No one bothers with vintage apparel anymore.”

All right.

That’s it.

I’ve done something stupid with Stanley, hurting his feelings on Christmas, but now it’s Mom’s turn. I’m about to do something else stupid and drastic in the midst of my anger, but I only do it because I’m tired of pretending.

I’m tired of her thinking that because I like vintage clothes and write and edit more than I buy groceries, that I am not an ideal woman. I am so sick of this Christmas, and I’m tipsy and angry and I know I will regret this later, but right now I don’t care anymore.

I just want to go home.

Screw the holidays.

They are never worth it.

“He’s only putting on a show, Mom,” I grumble.

She frowns as she rounds the counter, confusion swimming deep in her eyes. “What do you mean, Pipey?”

I look her straight in the eyes. “I mean Matthew isn’t my boyfriend. I don’t
have
a boyfriend! I hired him to pretend to be my boyfriend and by the end of our deal he’ll be $7,000 richer.” I throw my hands in the air with a shrug, as if I’m exasperated. “We don’t like or love each other. We aren’t planning on getting married or having babies—hell, after this weekend we will never see each other again and you know what? I am more than okay with that because he’s not as great as everyone thinks he is. So there. I admit it. He’s not the perfect guy. He’s a fake that eats up all the attention you give him. He was just
pretending
to be one. So can we all just stop pretending we are so damn happy now?”

Mom looks at me, too shocked to speak. Her fingers are curled around the edge of the counter, eyes wide, but then her eyes shift up, and she’s no longer looking at me, but behind me.

A throat clears to my left, and that’s when I see the rest of the family standing there.

My heart jumps to my throat, all of them staring at me incredulously, chins practically on the floor. My breathing quickens, and I know immediately that I’ve fucked up in stellar fashion.

Oh. My. God.

What is wrong with me?!

I feel even worse now and I didn’t even think that was possible.

But not because of their appalled expressions, or the way Bailey narrows her eyes at me and folds her arms across her chest as if she knew all along something was wrong.

No.

It’s because out of all the faces, I can only focus on one of them. When I look into Matthew’s eyes, I see nothing but raw emotion.

Sadness.

Anger.

Disgust.

No joy whatsoever.

But worst of all, I can tell I’ve betrayed him.

Heartbreaking, cruel betrayal.

Just like that, it all crumbles.

It feels like the universe is shouting at me right now and it is saying: To the girl who created the biggest family fuck up of all time, Piper Madison: Merry Christmas ya ungrateful, selfish
bitch
.

Good Lord.

What have I done?

P
iper

I
t’s midnight
, and I haven’t seen hide nor hair of anyone since my little showdown in the kitchen.

Now, as I sit on the porch, 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 take a deep breath.

Tears stream down my cheeks. Not many, but when I think about the things I said—how I ruined the holiday for everyone, they thicken, hitting 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.

But I don’t want to go in. I can’t. After I heard everyone go to their rooms and the house became quiet (due to the sudden gloom that I fully take the blame for), I snuck up from the basement and came out for some fresh air.

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

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

Pushing out of the chair, I walk down the porch stairs, the snow crunching beneath my boots as I stop in the yard. I look up towards the midnight sky, so velvety and blue.

The stars twinkle, and I burn inside 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 does that. She has 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 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.

Not the reward.

I hear the sound of a door shutting behind me and I look back, spotting Matthew walking out the door. Not only that, but he has 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 one 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 are up for it.”

“Sure. Let me just go grab the keys.” He nods, and as I go towards the house he makes way for the car. I hurry in 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 across my thighs.

“Cold,” I say, laughing a little. I glance at him.

He’s not looking my way. He’s looking out of the window. Seeing that he isn’t interested in playing games with me, I pull out of the driveway, going around the roundabout and then taking the road down.

We ride in silence for the entire ride before we finally reach the airport. During the ride, I couldn’t help but glance over at him a couple times.

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, I’m sure.

I park the car and Matthew jumps out right away.

“Should I walk you to the gates?” I ask.

He shrugs carelessly. “If you want to.”

I nod, unclipping my seatbelt and climbing out. 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. “Piper, before I go, can I tell you something?” His voice is calm and low, his face free of expression.

“Sure,” I nod. “Anything.”

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

Confusion swims through my veins but I don’t speak. He is probably going to shred me as calmly as possible for being such a huge bitch.

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

I blink quickly, but my mouth stays shut.

He continues. “I’m not upset because you are 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 behind us. He then 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 and assault charge and gun charges. I didn’t want you find out about my past.”

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 to think I prey on women like that. I got into this because it was a way for me to make good money and getting a job with a felony conviction is almost impossible. Someone introduced me to it 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. “They ran a family-owned restaurant in Brooklyn. The best pizzeria that ever existed.” He smiles, showing all of his teeth. I know it’s something he will never forget, something he and his parents were probably very proud of.

“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. 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… I was devastated.

“My—my parents’ bodies were in a puddle of blood, lifeless on the floor. And I saw the guy—I saw him running so fast to reach the exit. I rushed after him, and 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. But 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.

“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 for them to 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.”

“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. “That same guy that killed my parents.”

I watch him intently, his ticking jaw, his watering eyes. I don’t say a word.

“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 he promised he’d give to me someday. I don’t think he recognized me. Our story was all over the news, but it had happened months ago. I’d grown my hair and some facial hair out—all of that. 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, I would make him pay for destroying my family. So, I pawned the watch for him, gave him the money, and I kept the watch. But as soon as he left, I locked the place up as quickly as possible and followed him home. He lived in the slums, a worn-down apartment building. But I followed him there, 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. “Not right away. 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 butt of 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. I…. broke down, my finger wrapped around the trigger. 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…

“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. We didn’t have cameras in our restaurant—none that worked anyway. 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 working up and down. “This is why I don’t get attached. Because the people I loved were taken away from me—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.”

Matthew 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 pretending. I made a mistake by doing that 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 scared because I realized how at home I felt. For the first time in a long time I felt connected.”