“What?” Pepper’s eyes widened in astonishment. “But why?”
“I don’t want it here.” He rubbed the back of his neck. He shouldn’t be so brusque with her. It wasn’t like he’d told her about his “no Christmas” policy. “I don’t celebrate Christmas.”
“You don’t believe in Santa?”
There was such sincerity and awe in her voice that for a minute, he thought she was being serious. When his gaze caught hers, he couldn’t read her thoughts. “Please don’t tell me you believe in Santa.”
She shrugged. “I don’t believe there’s a man who lives at the North Pole who delivers Christmas presents around the world in one night, but I believe in the spirit of Christmas. I believe it lives in each of us.”
He shook his head. “Not me.”
She frowned at him. “Even you.”
He shook his head again. “There’s nothing good about Christmas.”
Her mouth gaped open. “How can you say that?”
“Because Christmas was always the worst time in our house.” It didn’t bring their family together. Instead the holiday drove a bigger wedge between him, his mother and his father.
“Really?” Sympathy shone clearly in her big green eyes. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged off her sympathy. He didn’t want her to feel sorry for him. He just wanted her to make this Christmas tree go away.
He went to sit on the couch and bumped into her packages, which spilled onto the floor. There were all sorts of Christmas decorations—things for trimming the tree. He inwardly groaned.
He knelt down and began stuffing the shiny red balls back in the bag. The next thing he knew, Pepper was kneeling beside him. Together, they worked to clean up the mess of decorations.
As the time went by, the shock of finding a Christmas tree in his place wore off and he realized Pepper could never understand the horrific memories he had attached to the holiday. He was quite certain they were much different than her experience with the holiday.
Simon settled on the floor and leaned back against the couch. He needed to smooth things over with Pepper. They’d come a long way this week toward being friendly with each other again and he didn’t want to ruin their progress. “I’m sorry for grouching at you. I was caught off guard when I came through the door and found a tree in the living room.”
“I understand. I should have asked you first. I... I wanted to surprise you. Obviously, I did that, but not in a good way like I’d been hoping.”
He sighed. “I’m not like other people.”
He was broken. But he couldn’t admit that to Pepper. He couldn’t have her look at him like he was less of a man. Or worse, with sympathy in her eyes. He’d spent his whole life proving he was no longer that scared, helpless child.
“You’re definitely unlike anyone I’ve ever known.” She sent him a hesitant smile. “Have you noticed this amazing Manhattan penthouse you live in? Most people could only imagine living in a place like this.”
“It wasn’t always that way. I didn’t grow up with a silver spoon in my mouth.” He was very proud of the empire he’d built, one toy, one store, at a time.
“What was Christmas like when you were young?”
This was not the direction he wanted the conversation to go. “It was fine.”
“Fine? That’s an odd description.” Pepper placed the bag on the floor and then sat on the couch near him. “We never had much when I was little, but my mother made the most of the holiday. We went caroling and sledding. We baked cookies and watched Christmas movies. She emphasized the time we spent together instead of the lack of presents under the tree.”
“Your mother sounds like she was great.”
“She was, but...”
He moved so he could look at her. “But what?”
“She was eccentric and definitely flamboyant. That’s hard to deal with as a kid, when all you want in the world is to fit in and be just like everyone else.” Pepper pulled a strand of lights out of another bag. “I bet you had the perfect Christmases—the kind in those holiday movies.”
“Far from it. My mother tried to have a fun Christmas, but my father always ruined it. He would be furious and accuse her of wasting money—money that belonged to him.” He could still hear the echo of his father’s booming voice. Every word he bellowed was laced with anger. “My Christmases were more Die Hard than National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation.”
“I’m sorry. I never imagined.”