"Heavenly father," Liam began, and I had to stifle a giggle, "bless this food, lovingly prepared and shared amongst family this evening. I thank you for bringing me here to spend the holidays with these kind people, and for the blessing of placing Jillian in my life this year."
It was like a slap in the face. I doubted Tara felt the sting between Botox and her perpetual bitchiness, but I did. Because I was part of this family and I had been just as crappy to all of them as they had been to me. I'd met every single one of Tara's poisonous comments with equal venom. I'd barely shared more than ten words with my father. The only person I had been kind and generous to was Liam, but he'd seen us—he'd seen me—for what we truly were. Mean. Spiteful. Petty. All that was clear from his tone. What wasn't clear was whether the rest of his so-called prayer was tongue-in-cheek, as well? Was he beginning to see me for the blessing I really was?
I hadn't felt this sick at Christmas since the year my parents went on a cruise and didn't remember to call, leaving me a few fifties as a present. I'd been unwanted then and I had a feeling I was rather unwanted right now.
"Wasn't that nice?" Tara asked as she lifted her head.
I thought my father shook his head a little at her obliviousness, but I wasn't surprised. Tara couldn't see her true self if she looked into a goddamn magic mirror.
"Pass the gravy," I said in a flat voice. I was definitely going to eat my feelings tonight.
"Not too much," Tara warned, just as she had every holiday. Tomorrow she would remind me that summer fat farms were full of holiday indulgences.
I poured half of the gravy boat's contents over what had to be three servings of mashed potatoes and smiled at her.
"Liam," my father said, ignoring the thick tension building between Tara and I, "have you thought at all about where you plan to do an internship this summer?"
Liam glanced at me and shook his head.
"I imagine it will be in Scotland," Tara said as though this closed the conversation.
"Perhaps" was all Liam replied.
"Well, if you're considering staying in the states I might have a friend at the country club who could set you up," Dad continued as though Tara had never spoken.
"That's very kind of you. I'll let you know," Liam said. He didn't sound in the least bit interested and my stomach turned over. Suddenly my plate looked terrible. Liam had hinted at trying to stay here after next semester. Now he couldn't drum up any enthusiasm over my father's suggestion. I had a horrible feeling that I knew exactly what I was getting for Christmas.
"He won't want to stay here." Tara tore apart her roll but didn't eat any of it. "He wants to get back to his real life in Scotland."
"I don't have any internship plans next summer," I butted in. I couldn't stand thinking about this anymore. The last thing I wanted to do on Christmas Eve was thinking about the ticking clock that loomed between Liam and me.
"I knew that." Tara let out an inelegant, and uncharacteristic, snort of laughter at my statement.
"Is there something that you want to do?" Dad asked. "I'm guessing you'll want to stay in Washington, especially with your last year of school coming up. Or maybe you'd rather travel somewhere before you get a job.”
In the last two years, my parents had skirted talk of jobs. My mother insinuated that I could work while going to school, but that was as far as it got, except for her dropped hints that I would never find work. Hearing my dad talk about me starting a career inflated me.
“There are quite a few counseling centers that might have an internship open,” I said. “That might be good since I’ve been considering grad school.”
Tara dropped her fork.
“That makes sense,” Dad said.
“That makes no sense,” Tara said.
“Tara.”
She ignored the warning in my father’s voice and went on. “You’ve barely studied for the last two and a half years and now you’re going to go to grad school.”
“If I want to go into therapy, I’ll need at least a Master’s degree if I’m going to make a living.”
This time her snort was a full-blown laugh. “A Master’s degree? A living?”
“What did you think I was going to do? Move back in here? You don’t want me. Get married? You’ve made it clear no one will want me.” I was shouting, my butter knife clutched tightly in my fist.
“I just want you to be realistic about what a girl like you—”
“Shut up, Tara.” The words were low but dangerously clear. I stared at my father in amazement. He’d never stood up for me before. My dad could be counted on for one thing: turning a blind eye.
“George!” Tara clutched her chest in surprise. “I will not be spoken to like that at my own dinner table.”
“Then leave.” And with that he picked his fork up and continued eating.
Tara pushed her chair back so quickly that it fell over. She didn’t bend to pick it up before she fled the room.
“Have you thought about looking for internships together?” Dad asked, returning to the previous topic as though nothing had happened.
“We, um, we...” I couldn’t find an answer to save my life. Surely, my father could see how tenuous things were with Liam. After all, he’d spent a lot more time with him this week than I had.
“It’s a little too early to be looking,” Liam said, saving me from the question. “We’ll both need to think about our summer plans when we get back to Olympic State this week.”
This time when my stomach rolled, its contents heaved into my throat. I stood and grabbed my plate. “Excuse me. I’m finished, so I’ll clean up.”
I was barely aware that I’d just volunteered to do the dishes as I stumbled toward the kitchen. I needed to get out of there and away from all my dad’s questions about Liam and I’s future—and away from all of Liam’s vague answers. But when I rounded the corner I realized the kitchen wouldn’t be much of a haven. Tara stood against the counter, bottle of wine in her hand.
“Finished already?” she asked.
“I am,” I said. “Are you?”
She huffed and took a swig. “You think I’m a terrible bitch for making you face facts, but, Jillian, that boy is going back to Scotland in a few months. And you’re right, he is good for you, but what happens when he’s gone? It’s time you ask yourself that before it’s too late.”
“It’s never too late.” I slammed my plate on the counter and ran out of the room before she could see my face. Before she could see that she’d rattled me. Tara had successfully spread her holiday spirit and it was spreading through me like a nasty, seasonal virus. Christmas was coming. The only Christmas I would ever spend with Liam, and she’d probably ruin that, too. Maybe she was right about girls like me—we never get what we want.
CHAPTER FIVE
The Christmas tree lights had been left on, bathing the living room in warmth. The aroma of dinner lingered, rich and spicy, and the quiet house looked as if it belonged in a magazine. The last few embers glowed in the hearth. It was past midnight, which meant it was Christmas morning and the world felt magical. Tara always kept the lights on for Santa, and maybe it was sentimentality but she’d continued to do so even when I was long past the age where I believed in Santa Claus. Now it filled me with a sense of peace that I wondered at. After our disastrous dinner and show down in the kitchen, it amazed me that I could feel so content.
Stealing down the last few steps, I slid onto the couch, hugging my knees to my chest and staring dreamily at the tree. Something stirred in the corner of my vision and I jumped up, surprised to find I wasn’t alone.
“You don’t look like a jolly old elf.” Liam’s mouth cracked into a sleepy smile. He was nestled under two blankets in the corner armchair, and he slid an arm out to beckon me over to him.
“Waiting up for Santa Claus?” I settled onto his lap as he drew the blanket back up over us.
“I must have missed him,” Liam said, “because my present is already here.”
“It is, huh?”
“You’re all I wanted for Christmas,” he murmured, his lips brushing my ear.
“You already have me,” I whispered. “Don’t you want something else?”
I didn’t have to say what I was really thinking—that he was crazy for sticking around. After Tara’s not-so-gentle reminder about our dubious future, I wouldn’t blame him for having second thoughts. I loved Liam, but even I couldn’t see a way for us to have a happy ending. Between my condition and his student visa, this was likely our first and last Christmas together, and he had to know that, too. Why waste time?
Liam rolled his eyes at the question. “From what I can tell, Christmas in America is about getting lots of new and shiny presents. That might be fun for a bit, but I’ve always played favorites with my...toys.”
“Toys?” I raised an eyebrow. “Are you comparing me to your Tonka trucks and action figures?”
“Oh, you are much more fun—you make so many noises when I play with you.” His hands slipped under the hem of my shirt, moving slowly across my stomach. “And like any favorite toy, I couldn’t fall asleep tonight without you.”
“Were you scared?” I asked playfully, twisting so I could see him face in the dim Christmas lights. In the warm glow the strong lines of his jaw, the straight line of his nose, the slight dimple in his chin were accentuated. I felt a familiar flutter at the sight.
“Aye, I was.” The grin fell from his face replaced by the hint of a frown. “Without your beautiful body tucked up next to me, I felt lost.”
The playfulness was gone now. Instead, there was an ache in Liam’s voice that sent tremors running through me.
“But what scared me,” he continued, “was what you were thinking, chicken. After what your mother said—“
“I know better than to listen to what Tara says,” I interrupted him.
“You still hear her. You can’t help that. She’s your mother, and whether she’s right or wrong, you hear what she says to you. You’re only human,” Liam said. “For the record, she’s wrong. About you. About us. I couldn’t sleep because I knew you were in your bed analyzing her words.”
I kept my eyes glued to the hearth, shaking my head. “She’s right about one thing. There’s an expiration date on this relationship.”
Liam’s hands tightened their hold on me. “No, there isn’t. If you want out, that’s one thing. But I don’t care about my student visa or your mother, if we want to make this work, we can do that.”
“What about my condition?” I whispered. All the determination in the world couldn’t change the fact that I had Parkinson’s.
“You know what else is fantastic about Scotland? Socialized medicine.”
My breath caught in my throat and swelled to something that felt very much like tears. I knew what he was getting at, but I wasn’t ready for him to say more on the subject. My own feelings were too confused as it was. “It’s too soon to talk about that.”
“Maybe,” he said simply, “but it’s not too soon to think about. Have you ever...” His voice trailed away, leaving the question hanging in the air between us.
“Have you?” I hedged.
His blue eyes met mine as he answered. “I have.”
“I have, too.” But my voice wasn’t sure and strong as his had been. My answer quivered from me.
“We don’t have to discuss this yet,” he said to my relief, “but if you’re thinking about it, there’s something I need you to know.” He slid his hand from my stomach and caught my face, holding it so that I couldn’t look away. “I try very hard to be kind to your mother, but there is one thing about her that I can never forgive or look past. She’s made you believe that you are less than. She’s told you no one could ever want you. I know you’re damn stubborn, Jillian Nichols, but I need you to understand this. I want you. I want all of you. Nothing can change that. I need you to remember that when you’re...thinking.”
I couldn’t do anything but nod for fear that I would burst out crying. Guiding my chin forward, he brought my lips to his, moving slow as honey as he covered my mouth with his own. I sighed into the kiss, melting against his chest as he deepened it. His tongue swept through my mouth, running quickly over my teeth. A moan slipped past our locked lips and I pressed closer to him as his other hand rubbed circles over my stomach. I was beginning to feel warm all over, the heat spreading swiftly through my arms and legs as his hand made it’s way down.
He broke away, and between his piercing gaze, as his fingers worked slowly but expertly between my legs, and the tightening beginning in my core, my head fell back, eyes closes, as he murmured, “Best present ever.”
The world unraveled around me, leaving only him and I and the passion building between us as he brought me over the edge with the rhythmic precision of someone who not only knew my body but worshipped it. Pleasure rolled through me until I could take no more and my legs clamped around his arm. Liam’s face was buried against my neck and when he lifted his face to meet mine, his breathing was heavy. His mouth crushed against my own as he withdrew his hand from my pajama shorts. It found it’s way to my breast, his thumb massaging and orbiting my nipple with teasing strokes.
I pulled away from him, ignoring his protests so I could drop in front of the chair. “What about what I want for Christmas?”
A smirk carved across his lips as he gazed down at me. “Feel free to unwrap your present.”
I pretended to turn toward the tree, but his hand caught my arm, and I winked at him as I made a show of dropping to the floor and settling between his legs. I undid his zipper slowly, my eyes still focused on his face and watched his reaction as I took him in my mouth.
“That feels amazing.” It was more of a moan than a statement. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
Before I could protest he was on his feet, lifting me up and pushing me toward the sofa as he fumbled with my pajamas. A few moments later his hand slid down my bare back and guided me down.
“Hold on,” he said, leaving me splayed naked on the sofa. Liam plucked a ribbon off a nearby present and wrapped it loosely around my neck. “Perfect.”
“Merry Christmas.”
His smile widened and he tugged at the ribbon drawing me toward his warm lips. I groaned when he pulled away, but he immediately took his lips on a traveling tour of my neck, followed by my collarbone. He lingered at my breasts before continuing on to my navel. By the time, he reached it I was barely aware of his movements, only of him and his presence. Conscious thought seemed to flee me with the first touch of his lips to my thigh. There was heat and tingles that built into promising surges that sent my fingers fisting into the couch cushions, but they would dip and disappear, leaving the tingles to shiver through me. Over and over again, my body swelled with anticipation, only to be brought back to Earth still hungry and eager. Each time, my desire grew until its appetite seemed too large to fill. I clung to the sofa, my skin alive and trembling, as Liam’s hand slid from under me. My back arched, and I saw stars as my eyelids pressed closed. Brilliant blue and gold. Dazzling silver. My world was full of fireworks that burned through my skin and burst along my nerves, shattering through me.
I fell back against the cushions, tremors rolling through me. My legs pressed tightly together, but Liam drew them back apart and around his waist, nudging into me with a swift, urgent stroke. My body responded instinctively, telling me it was too much. Too soon. I felt tender and new, but when I dared to open my eyes, he was watching me, his eyelids heavy with lust, and I forgot that it was too much. Liam took his time, moving gently and slowly into me. His hands steadying my hips, urging them to move along with his, and I found myself circling against him, opening wider, wanting more—needing as much as he would give me.
A hand left my hip and found my chin, turning my face until our eyes met. “I don’t want you, Jillian,” he said in a low voice. “I need you. Understand?”
I swallowed hard and nodded. I did understand, because that’s how I fel
t about him.
“Stop doubting that then,” he ordered in a gruff voice as his pace quickened. The pressure building in me stole my breath and with it my words, but something clicked then. I would do anything for Liam, why didn’t I believe he would do the same for me? That realization sent me spilling over the edge and I cried out, throwing my arms around his neck as his own groans began.
When our breathing had slowed enough to talk, Liam brushed a sticky strand of hair from my forehead and kissed it softly.
“Do you understand?” he repeated.
“I do,” I said without hesitation.
CHAPTER SIX
I woke up in the morning tucked in my bed, feeling like Christmas had already come. I stretched out, noticing that my neck was a little sore from my extracurricular sextivities the night before. But it was Christmas morning which meant I needed to get downstairs before my mother ate Liam alive and left the bones under the tree. A quick comb of the hair and brush of the teeth later, I was out the door and bounding down the stairs. I felt like a new person after my time with Liam. For the first time all week I felt strong enough to face Tara and deal with all of her bullshit.
My parents sat, not speaking, in the living room. Other than their total silence it looked like a scene out of a Norman Rockwell painting. Roaring fire. Husband and wife in pajamas with monogrammed cuffs. Presents perfectly displayed under the tree. Clearly, all they needed was an overly-excited child to finish the portrait of domestic bliss.
“Merry Christmas!” I cried as I jumped the last few stairs.
My father smiled, but Tara’s somber expression changed to one of shock. “You are going to break your ankle, and do you even have a bra on?”