“The party?” She looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “It’s for employeesandclients, remember?” I do remember, though I was hoping she would be too busy to think about the fact that I should be going.
“I wasn’t gonna go, Jules.”
She turns around fully and places her hands on hips, I force myself not to groan out loud as I stand up because I know the lecture is coming.
“Why the hell weren’t you going to go?”
“Jules-”
“You know what,” she interrupts me. “I don’t care. You’re going! You’re a client just like everyone else, and you deserve to be there.” She’s given this speech to me so many times. My business is small potatoes compared to most everyone else who banks with them. They have a department focused solely on small businesses, but there are really only a few of them. Even though Jules denies it, I still think the department only exists so they can get a tax break.
“Besides, if I’m going to be forced to mingle with a bunch of stuffy rich people, then I’m going to need you there with me.”
“Jules- you are a stuffy rich person.”
She jumps back and lets out a loud, over-exaggerated gasp. “I am not stuffy!”
I can’t help but laugh at the reaction I knew I would get from my comment.
“Please, Morgan. I need you there with me.” I let out a long sigh, knowing I can’t say no to her. For so long, Jules has pretty much been my only family and disappointing her is something I try really hard not to ever do.
“Okay, fine. I’ll be there.”
She eyes me for a moment, probably looking for any sign of deception, then gives me a bright smile.
“Great! I’ll see you there!”
Once she leaves, I slump back onto the stool and let out a heavy sigh. It’s not that I have a problem going to the party. There’s nothing wrong with them really. Free food that’s always delicious, and the expensive kind of champagne. But Juliet’s confirmation that her brother is going to be there adds an extra level of inadequacy to my self-esteem that I was really hoping to avoid.
I scrub my hands down my face before standing and getting to work tidying up my shop. I haven’t always hated Christmas. Hell, there was a time in my life that I absolutely loved it. But when both your parents die in a car accident when you’re twelve years old four days before the holiday, it kind of puts a damper on it. My uncle took me in and raised me. He was great, the fact that he was only twenty-two and raising a twelve year old was kind of a big deal. After that, holidays were spent with him and whatever girlfriend he had at the time watching bad movies and eating ramen noodles. Jules and her family always invited me, but going over there just felt wrong. I had a family, even if it was only one person, and holidays are meant to be spent with family. The moment I turned eighteen though, Uncle Mark took off with the girlfriend he had at the time and moved to California. I hear from him occasionally, usually a couple times a year. But he more or less washed his hands of me once I was able to take care of myself.
Only then did I start spending Christmas with Juliet’s family. And it didn’t take long to fall completely and totally head over heels in love with her brother. A love that for a brief moment I thought was returned.But I was so damn wrong.
CHAPTERTWO
Bryce
There are a lot of things about Texas that are completely different from California. The humidity being one of them. The moment I stepped off the plane, I could feel my clothes clinging to my already sweat soaked skin. It’s something that never affected me growing up, but I’ve been away from it for almost a year now.
Though it’s blistering hot right now, I know that in about an hour, the temperature will drop a lot, and it’ll even be a little chilly. So I grab my leather jacket and slip it on over my gray t-shirt. I head out of my apartment toward where I parked near the pool entrance, but immediately realize my mistake. Betty Fitzpatrick, the building’s owner who everyone just calls Fitzy, is in her usual spot by the pool drinking a martini. I slam myself against the wall, mentally cursing my bad luck. It’s not that I don’t like Fitzy. She’s actually pretty damn awesome. Always throwing one party or another. Usually for charity. Hell, even my bank is having our employee and client Christmas party here this weekend because Fitzy has been a client of ours for decades now. But honestly, I just don’t feel like having my biceps squeezed like watermelons. Or askedwhatever happened to that sweet girl you were seeing?She always means well, but my mind is just too damn exhausted to deal with that right now.
I send up a silent prayer that I’ll be able to sneak past her, and it looks like someone above is actually looking out for me. When I peek back around the corner, Fitzy is talking animatedly about something, her drinking sloshing all over the place, with one of the other residents. Without giving it another thought, I hurry past them, luckily without being seen, and make it out to my car.
Once I’m safely locked inside my vehicle, I let out a long, exhausted breath and lean back against the headrest. I can’t exactly fault Fitzy for always asking about Morgan. Everyone loves her. Even my own family. Hell, my parents have treated her like their own daughter for years now, since she and my sister Juliet are best friends. I realize it was pretty stupid to get involved with my sister’s best friend in the first place, but I couldn’t help it. Morgan is all woman, and I’ve been lusting after her since I first came home from college and started working for my dad. Last year, I finally worked up the nerve to do something about it, and everything was perfect.
Then I totally and completely, fucking blew it.
* * *
I pullup to my parents house, taking a moment to breathe in the comfort just being close to my family provides. I don’t hate California necessarily, but being so far away for the past eleven months hasn’t exactly been easy. At first, I was okay with it. Needed it, really. It gave everyone time to get over what they think happened with Morgan. But once the storm passed, I just missed them all. Things are still a little chilly with my sister, but we’re doing better. And either way, I’d still take things being rough between us and being close by, over things being fine but being states away.
As soon as I walk inside, I’m assaulted with the familiar smells of a home cooked meal and fresh baked dessert. The sound of Christmas music blasts through the speakers throughout the house and a smile tugs at my lips when I hear my mother’s off tune singing coming from the kitchen. Christmas with my folks is always a big event. Mom loves Christmas, and Dad loves Mom so he gives her anything she wants. When I walk toward the kitchen, pausing in the entryway, my smile grows when I see my mother dancing around in one of her silly Christmas outfits, and Dad sitting at the table watching her with a look on his face that only proves that she really is the center of his whole world.
Their love is something I always envied. When all of Dad’s friends would lie and cheat on their wives with their secretaries, Dad never strayed because he knew he would never find someone better. They have an all consuming love that has only grown over the years. Thirty-Five years of marriage only solidified just how perfect they are for each other. Having them as an example of true love growing up, is exactly why I haven’t gotten married yet-no matter how much my mother pesters me about it-because I refuse to settle for anything less than the real thing. There’s only one woman I’ve even considered spending my life with, and she hates me now.
I shake those thoughts from my head, not wanting to damper my mood. I step further into the kitchen, catching dad’s gaze, but mom is too focused on her one-woman concert to notice me. Without thinking too hard about it, I step closer to her and begin singing along at the top of my lungs, making her jump in surprise. As expected, she throws her arms around my neck in excitement, giving me a tight hug. I’ve seen dad since I flew in yesterday because we were at the office first thing this morning, but I haven’t seen mom yet.
“My baby’s home!” I laugh at her description of me, because I really don’t think very many people would consider a thirty-three year old man to be a baby. But as she constantly tells me,I’ll always be her baby.