His Christmas Gift

Juliet

“I was hoping you would join us for Christmas. It’s Ella’s first Christmas, and it feels like it’s been forever since I saw you.”

Guilt fills me at how sad Decker sounds. Christmas is only three days away. I love this holiday more than anything. Decker is aware of that.

As badly as I want to spend Christmas with him, Lydia, and my niece, I do my best to stick to my argument against going to Chicago. Considering Decker knew how much I loved Christmas, he wasn’t going to be satisfied with lame excuses. And all I could come up with was a lie.

“Um, hello? We’ve done video calls.” I do my best to keep my tone light.

“It’s not the same. There is nothing like having the person you love right in front of you, to be able to hug them close.”

I blink back tears at how right he is. Because I understand what he means. It’s how I feel about Caleb when he’s not in my arms. “I’m sorry. I’m bummed too. But I just can’t leave her alone, she’s my best friend, and she needs me.”

The lie is a friend had surgery and didn’t have anyone to help her if I left.

“I understand. Okay, well, it sounds like Ella is up from her nap. Good job on the Gardner contract. I might let you handle the negotiations on all contracts.” I hear the smile in his voice.

“Well, I learned from the best.” A squeal is loud in the background, my niece demanding her daddy’s attention. “I’ll let you go, give Ella a kiss from me.”

Ending the call, I sigh as I look out over the back of my deck onto the grass that is still surprisingly green. Then again, this is Austin, not Chicago. While I like almost everything about this city, I never thought I would miss snow and the cold the way I have for the last month.

The French doors open, and my nanny and best friend, Rebecca, shakes her head at me. My son squeals in happiness at the sight of me and lunges toward me so I can take him into my arms.

“So are you just going to show up to Chicago when he’s five and say, 'ta-da,' meet your nephew?” Her tone is drier than the Sahara.

Squeezing my son tight, I shrug. It doesn’t help I’m aware she’s right. When I made the decision to run as fast and far as I could from Chicago, it was to keep Decker from figuring out who my son’s father could be and killing him. At the time, I didn’t do it to protect Jonas. I did it to protect Decker, and if I’m completely honest, myself.

It was no one’s fault but my own that I was pregnant and alone. I gambled on love, and I lost. Except not really, I have Caleb. He has been worth all the pain. I have no regret.

“Jonas is back in Chicago,” I murmur as I run my hand over my son’s head. The news was what kept me in Austin for the holidays, even more so than my father.

“Oh.” One word that sums everything up.

“Exactly. There’s also the fact that my father’s complete transformation from heartless machine to doting grandfather means there’s no avoiding him. Maybe if he were still heartless I could get Decker to agree to keep him away from me. But the way he is now, Decker will understandably press me to at least consider giving my father a second chance. My father will take one look at Caleb and know. If he knows, less than ten minutes later, Jonas will too. It’s safer here in Austin—for everyone.”

Her sigh is heavy. “You really think this is the right thing to do? Jonas could change his mind when he sees Caleb. A baby is a question mark, Caleb is the reality, and the reality changes things, changes people.”  

“I don’t really care.” I harden my heart. “The man felt the need to leave Chicago and stay gone for almost a year to avoid me. I’m giving him what he wants. He doesn’t deserve Caleb. My son deserves better than a cold, miserable fuck for a father.” Damn it, I hate the bitterness that fills me at the thought of Jonas. I’ve tried so hard to let the bitterness go, and I was certain I had. Guess I was wrong.

“Because he was trying to do the right thing. Sleeping with his best friend’s daughter wasn’t something he thought would be accepted by said best friend.”

“He picked my father over me. That’s the only thing I need to know.”

“But did he? He’s been out of Chicago all these months. It wasn’t like he went to Madrid and went back.”

She was aware I’d been watching social media for mentions of Jonas.

“Wasn’t that something you wanted him to do? To travel and see the world in a way he hadn’t. There’s also the fact that you changed your number, too. It’s not like he can call you.”

I sigh. This is what I get for telling her everything that happened. Her making sense is not what I need right now. I need someone who is only on my side and tells me that I’m doing the right thing. Because I’ve had my doubts since I found out I was pregnant. I was going to tell him, it wasn’t supposed to be a secret. Except our last moments together were filled with him telling me that it was over and a mistake, a mistake I needed to forget and pretend it never happened because it’s what he was going to do.

Hearing him call it a mistake that he could move on from was a vicious twist of the knife he put into my chest. Our baby wasn’t a mistake, and neither was what we shared. If he wanted to forget it ever happened, then I would give him that, since it felt like I had taken so much from him—the peace and quiet he sought so badly was disturbed by me. So now it was time to give it back. When he walked away, I didn’t say a word, I let him go.  

There was also the fact that he changed his cell phone number. While I can admit there were other ways to contact him. I did call him to tell him about Caleb while I was in the hospital—I’ve never told her that. It was done in a rush of hormones as I held my son for the first time. When the automated voice told me the number didn’t exist anymore, I felt he’d made his desire for me to never contact him again as blatant as possible.

“Maybe. But he’s been in Chicago for three days. While I changed my number to get back at him, if he asked Decker for my number, Decker would have reached out to me and asked if it was okay to give it to him. He hasn’t. All he did was mention he was back in Chicago on the phone call, and how he might be at Christmas dinner with my father.” No way would Decker just hand anyone my phone number, but he would have asked if it was all right to do so—he wouldn’t have kept the question from me.  

Her own sigh is heavy as she leads the way back into the house. “I just don’t want you to do something you’re going to regret. The way you did with getting pregnant on purpose with Caleb.”

The shot hits the mark the way she intended. “I don’t regret Caleb in the slightest. I’m aware I’m an idiot for doing it. It does sting that it’s one of the reasons Jonas gave for not getting involved with me before he gave in: I was too young and naïve to believe in happily ever after. I was so sure a baby would get me what I wanted. Jonas was miserable. I knew a baby would change him, change us, and I was stupid enough to think a baby would make everything okay in the end. My father wouldn’t turn his back on his best friend the way Jonas feared if I was pregnant.”

Another sigh from her as she runs a hand over Caleb’s head. He loves both of us, it’s never one or the other. I’m not hurt by it, I’m relieved. It helped with the need to hide him when I was on a call with Decker or one of our artists. Hiding a baby when it came to work wasn’t easy. Although I will admit it helped that, for the most part, all I needed to do was put in about five hours a day—sometimes even less —to complete the work.

“I get that, I do. I’m grateful the little bugger is here too. It’s simply an issue of I think Jonas has a right to know his son. And I’m afraid you’re going to leave it until it’s too late. I hate the idea of leaving you guys alone for Christmas. Even if for the first time in years, my parents are acting like they can’t wait to see me.” She rolls her eyes.

We grew up together in an all-girls boarding school in upstate New York. Although, she was a year older than me. She was also one of the other girls who stayed in the school year-round, never going home. Her family is a part of the one percent, and basically ignored her the way mine did. After she graduated, they were more than content to pay for her to go to school in Paris, without seeing her during her time there.

So with that history, she admitted she was surprised her mom actually called and asked if she could come home for Christmas. Rebecca is certain it’s either really good news or really bad news.  

“Also, there was another email from your publisher. They have gone all the way up to five hundred thousand, and double your take from each sale, if you’ll finish the manga you have hanging out there. I’m aware you have no desire to write anything with love in it, and you’re having more fun working with Decker in his business…but five hundred thousand is a lot of money to turn down. Not to mention the thousands of emails fans send in begging for you to complete it.”

After Jonas left, there wasn’t anything in me willing to write about love and happy endings. At the same time, I was bored out of my mind and feeling like hell. So I reached out to Decker to let him know I was interested in helping him with his art reproduction business.

He worked with upcoming and established artists. They signed with him and gave him the rights to their art, and he would give them a salary. Their art was put on everything from phone and laptop skins to umbrellas. I’m proud he was able to make himself a billionaire after a very hard-fought twenty years of work.

Shaking my head. “I’m just not ready.”

A small nod. “I’ll let them know.”

“Thanks.” I’m so grateful for her. After going to art school in Paris, her work hadn’t yet taken off, and she needed something to fill her days. I offered her a job as my nanny slash assistant, with her living in. She jumped at it, and she’s been with me for the last eight months.

As I settle down on the play pad Caleb adores for all the interesting things he can play with on it as he’s learning to crawl, I wonder if she’s right? Was I making the situation worse by not being the one to reach out to Jonas to tell him about Caleb?

***

Jonas

Frustrated as I check my email for the fiftieth damn time today, I give in and call Valdez. The guy runs the biggest defense contracting company in the world, with more boots on the ground in over a hundred different countries than any army in the world. He started with intelligence gathering, the kind that came with blood type and if you asked for it what someone had for lunch on a day twelve years ago—they were that good. But the email I sent three days ago hasn’t been responded to. It makes no sense to me; he always handles my requests immediately.

There was also the fact that I’ve had his men protecting me off and on for the last eleven months. I’ve been all over the world trying to get my mind right, and there were places I went where it wasn’t a good idea to go alone. Finally, now that I know exactly what I want and need, and I’m willing to do whatever it takes to get it—her, Juliet has disappeared. I needed Valdez to find her.

He answers on the third ring. “Mr. Winters, for the record, I have my girl on the line. By her demand, as she was the one who was going to process your request.”

Confused as fuck. “Okay…”  

“Why do you want Juliet Holt’s information?” The voice is soft, the question is hard and demanding.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” I revolt at the idea of telling anyone something as personal as why I want, need to speak to and see Juliet.

“Then you won’t get it.” The girl, god, she has to be a girl, she sounds so young, says without apology.

“Valdez, I fail to see why I have to give anyone the reason why I want to speak with Juliet. I’m not a rapist or abuser. I could ask her family, if you won’t give it to me.” I could, but I won’t.

A clearing of his throat. “She’s the one with the skills to get you what you want. I recommend you tell her why you want the information. Or you can ask her family.”

God damn it. “Fine. I screwed up all right. I’m in love with her. But I didn’t think I had it in me to give her everything I knew she wanted and deserved: marriage and kids. So I left to get as far away from her as I could. Now that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, while I might not deserve her, I love her. I’m willing to do whatever it takes to make her happy. The marriage is a given and while I’m not excited about kids, I am excited by the thought of a little girl who looks just like her mother. Okay. I love her, and I want to ask her to give me another chance.”

“Why has it taken you since January to figure out you love her so much?” The girl isn’t giving any quarter.

“Because I was doing what she wanted me to do. I was doing the therapy by phone. I was roaming the world and learning by being rather than living in the big house and looking down on the plebeians and refusing to be a part of life and merely an observer. To try to become the man she wanted and deserved. I didn’t intend for it to take this long. I’ll be honest, I tried to hide from it, her, and love, all of it—for the first few months.”

I’m ashamed of how long I buried my head in the sand. I wasn’t traveling because of her. I was doing it because I should have done it already. Maybe this is the country where my desire to create, to work will return. Okay, try giving it another week, or two, or three. The next country will be the one, I’m certain of it. I wasn’t as fucked up as she accused me. I’m an artist, I’m supposed to be emotionally damaged.

Then I gave in. I started hunting for a therapist who was willing to do therapy over the phone. On our first call, I admitted why I was willing to keep calling in every week and doing the gut-wrenching work of figuring out why I was so damn damaged and how to try and fix me.

“Finally, I gave in and I did the other thing she wanted—demanded—I do. Which was therapy. The very first session my therapist advised not to reach out to Juliet until we’d done a lot more work. I had no idea it would take so long. My therapist finally thinks I’m healthy enough not to fuck up. She adores Christmas, and I want to spend it with her, to see her as happy as this time of year makes her.”

“Do you have a ring?” She asks, still hard, still not nice in the least. “An engagement ring. That will quickly be followed by a wedding ring. None of that five years from now bullshit. You’ve kept her waiting since January. You don’t get to swoop in and say I’m sorry. It’s not good enough. And if you love her, you should have at least thought of it.”

I hadn’t thought of meeting her with a ring and a proposal. In my mind it would take longer to fix what I broke—us. Wouldn’t it be weeks, months, maybe even a few years before she felt she could trust me enough to marry me? I also thought I would leave choosing a ring up to her. But the thought of a ring, of her giving me the best Christmas gift in the world by saying yes to being stuck with me forever, sounds like the best thing I’ve ever heard.  “I don’t have one. But I’ll get it.”

“Call back once you have it.” The call is dropped without another word.

Damn the girl and Valdez for putting her in the driver’s seat of my life. I was so sure it would take time to get Henry and Decker to accept me in Juliet’s life. I’m a fucking idiot because nothing would soothe them both more than me as her husband. That it wasn’t a midlife crisis thing. It was a love for life thing.  

Three hours later, I’m home, and I don’t understand why my hand is shaking as I call Valdez again. It’s another three rings before he answers.

“Call the number I’m texting you. It’s going to video call me, so I can see the ring.” It’s the girl again. The call is dropped without another word.

Damn it. Annoyed as hell, I follow her instructions. I have the ring in front of the camera so she can see it immediately.

“Nice, what is that?” She whistles.

“It’s a Montana sapphire because the greenish-blue colors remind me of her eyes.”

“Well then, congratulations are in order.”

This girl is annoying as hell. “Congratulations on an engagement you made happen?”

“No, congratulations as in congrats on your little boy. Caleb Decker Holt was born on July tenth of this year. He was two weeks early, delivered by cesarean because he was stubborn and wouldn’t turn, and his heartbeat showed distress. Came in at seven pounds and three ounces and twenty inches long. He and Mom went home five days later. Where you should have been. I’m sending you her address via text.” The call ends while I’m still attempting to process the words.

No. She was on the pill. I shake my head. A baby. Juliet was pregnant when I left. I scramble for the math—born in July, but he was two weeks early. Did she know she was pregnant when I left? Maybe she hadn’t known. Either one is bullshit. I left her when she needed me most. Sonofabitch.

I look down at my phone as the text comes in. She’s in Austin. She and my son are in Austin.

Chest twisting, I make another call. It’s the private plane company I’ve been using for the last ten months. I ask them how quickly can they get me to Austin. The answer is three hours, with the jet ready in one hour. I book it.

Except there’s one more call I need to make.

“Jonas, it’s been a while. How the hell are you doing?” Andy Harper, a sitting judge and fan of my work, asks with a smile I can hear through the phone. I hope that bodes well for why I called him.

“I’ve been better. I’m going to need a favor and was wondering what it will cost me.” I begin.