Something Just Like This Read online

  “I’m making coffee. When I’m done, I want all of this off my ceiling and walls.”

  “Fine.” He says, his eyes moist as he holds back tears as well. “And then I’ll be gone, too.”

  See? Christmas is cursed.

  24

  Landon

  I’m not sure what happened. Of all the reactions I thought Juliette may have, the one she gives me isn’t on it. I don’t take anything down. Once she storms into the kitchen to make her coffee, I dress and leave. I take the time to make the holiday special for her and this is the thanks I get? Women like romantic gestures. At least I think they do. Juliette has proven she’s not like most women.

  That’s one of the many things I love about her. Now I’m seeing it can also backfire.

  I give Juliette a day to calm down. I’m sure since she worked all day yesterday and now today, she’s had plenty of time. Once I finish my last-minute shopping, I’ll call her. Christmas is only five days away, and I haven’t purchased a thing. If I don’t hit the store soon, there won’t be anything left except Tupperware and cans of tuna.

  Truth be told, I hate shopping. The only time I enjoy myself is when I’m with Courtney or Abby. Dress shopping with Juliette was fun, too. By myself, though? No, thanks. I’m more of a get in and get out kind of guy when it comes to shopping. I prefer a list. Christmas shopping is the worst, though. I wander from store to store clueless.

  This time is different though. A few months ago while with Courtney, she eyed up a necklace. The only problem is I can’t recall which store. There are only about six jewelry stores at the mall. This should be easy. Insert eye roll, right?

  The mall is packed. It’s the Wednesday before Christmas. I should expect nothing less. Everyone is rushing around hoping to find the perfect last-minute gifts. I’m not the only one who procrastinated.

  I find a parking spot near the end of the lot. It’s freezing outside—around twenty degrees—so I shove my hands in my pockets and jog to the entrance. When I step through the doors, the holiday music blasts in my ears, people race back and forth around me. The smell of pine consumes me, and I pass a warm fireplace. It’s electric but still adds to the holiday spirit. How can someone not love this?

  Juliette doesn’t, and I’m determined to change that. Even after she kicked me out.

  “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” by Michael Buble plays as I walk into the first store. I swerve out as fast as I went in, needing only a glance at their display to realize this isn’t the store. I zigzag through the crowds into four more stores. Finally, at the last store, I find it.

  The necklace is under the glass, a light shining on it. A woman cradles a child, a set of diamonds surrounding them as though they are protecting the mother and child bond. As I grab the attention of the store clerk, a bracelet catches my eye. This piece is different, a charm bracelet filled with racing symbols—checkered flags, a set of keys, a race car, and tires. I think back to when we went go-karting and the story she told me about her dad. Would she like this? Is this a good idea? We’re on shaky ground right now. I don’t want a simple gift to push her over the edge.

  No. I’ll wrap this in plain paper. It’s not a Christmas gift. She’ll like the bracelet. I pay for both items—a hefty five hundred and thirty dollar price tag later—and make my way to the food court. I didn’t eat lunch, and it’s nearing six. I need to eat something even if it’s Burger King. It’s not the juicy burger I’d order at Cardinal Cafe, but it’ll do.

  I scarf down my meal, toss out my bag, and make my way to the exit. Once home, I’ll call Juliette, and maybe Courtney. I have to decide about Jeff’s offer, and she may have some solid advice.

  I pass Santa’s shop, glancing over hoping Juliette is there. I’d much rather talk to her in person than call her. But what if she’s not ready to talk? Yes, the phone will be better.

  I tighten my grip on my shopping bags, step out the door, and crash right into the person walking in.

  “Juliette!” She rubs her shoulder and reaches down to pick up my bag.

  “Landon, sorry. I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’m fine. How about you?”

  She smiles. “Perfect.” She reaches the bag out toward me. “Here’s your bag from Lawrence Jewelers.” She words the store name like a question. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea.

  “Thanks.” I take it from her. “I thought I should finish up my…” What do I say here?

  “It’s okay. You can say Christmas around me.” I’m warmed by her touch when she places her hand on my arm. “I kind of overreacted yesterday. I’m sorry.”

  “No. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that without your permission.” I know that. With her Christmas story from when her parents divorced, I should have known better.

  “You were being spontaneous, sweet, and romantic. I’m an idiot for not appreciating that.”

  “You’re not an idiot.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re not.”

  “I am, and that’s final. Will you forgive me?” Her hand hasn’t left my arm, and my eyes haven’t left hers. She doesn’t have a reason for me to need to forgive her. But we could go back and forth all day.

  “Fine. I’ll forgive you.”

  I know all is forgiven when her lips touch mine, and I almost drop my bag out of my hand again. This woman can keep her lips plastered on me all day.

  “I have to go work for Santa now, but I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

  I like the way she makes it sound, and I wish I could steal her away from the jolly old man for the night.

  Juliette would be the best Christmas present ever.

  25

  Juliette

  As much as I hate curve balls being thrown at me, sometimes I can swing the bat and hit one out of the park. After Landon walks out on me—okay, after I kick him out—I think long and hard about our argument. I take it to work with me for two days before running into him at the mall. Literally. And when I see him that day, all I can think about is lying with him in front of a fire, Christmas tree lights glowing beside us. I picture us under the mistletoe, stealing kisses whenever we can.

  Maybe I didn’t give Christmas a fair shot. I stuffed it away in a box for so many years hoping it would disappear when all I need is the right person to celebrate with.

  When I kiss him goodbye on Wednesday, I promise to make it up to him. We see each other a few times over the week, and again on Christmas Eve. I ask him to come over today, on Christmas, after his morning with Courtney, Arthur, Abby, and Audrey. He didn’t invite me to their celebration, and I understand why. My mom has learned not to expect me. She never even bothers to ask anymore.

  Today I do what I promised to Landon. I make it up to him.

  My doorbell rings, and I inhale a deep breath, the smell of gingerbread overtaking my whole house, and nervous shivers running through my body. I can’t believe I’m doing this.

  I swing open the door, and Landon stands on my doorstep, bundled in a wool jacket and ear warmers. His warm breath clouds the cold air, his lips shivering. I touch my lips to his. I don’t want him to be cold. “Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas?” He repeats. “Am I at the right house?”

  “You sure are.” I take his hand and pull him inside.

  “You hung the snowflakes back up. The tree is decorated.” He holds his hand to his ear. “Do I hear music? Is that Bing Crosby?”

  “White Christmas,” I tell him. And it sure is. The snow arrived overnight, blanketing the grass and covering the streets. “And…” I put my finger up and drag him into the kitchen. I open the oven and pull the last batch of cookies out.

  “You baked!”

  “I sure did! Our menu consists only of wine and cookies.” I bought plenty of wine assuming I would need more than a bottle or two to get through the day, but the smile on Landon’s face is making this all worth it.

  “You sure know how to surprise someone.”


  “Well, I told you I would make it up to you. I know Christmas is important to you, and when I thought of celebrating with just the two of us, it didn’t seem so overwhelming.”

  He wraps his arms around me and nestles his face in my neck, tickling the skin with his tongue. “You’re amazing.”

  “Are you sure Courtney is okay with you leaving their house early to come here?” I move the cookies from on top the stove to the rack to cool. This is my first Christmas in almost twenty years, and I’m taking it slow. They aren’t the dozens of decorated ones my mom makes. There’s a batch each of chocolate chip, gingerbread, and peanut butter cookies. That I can manage.

  “No. She understands. She wishes you would have come to her house. I didn’t invite you because, well, I thought you’d say no.”

  “I probably would have. I like this, though, you and me.” I press my hands to his chest as I kiss him. His arms slide around my waist, and he pulls me into him, and my knees weaken. “Okay, Lover Boy, you need to take your jacket off and search Netflix for the perfect Christmas movie to start us off tonight.”

  “We’re watching a holiday movie, too?”

  “Maybe two or four. It depends on how much of this I can take.”

  “And there she is,” he says as he slides his jacket off and places it on the back of his chair. “Mrs. Grinch.”

  “I’m not the Grinch.” Carly calls me that, and I hate it.

  “Fine. Scrooge then.”

  “Do you know anyone named Scrooge who can do this?” I nibble on his earlobe, lifting my leg and wrapping it around his waist. This leads to an entanglement of tongues, and Landon reaching underneath my sweater. I playfully push him away. “Save some for later.”

  “Can you be dessert?”

  “I’d like that.” I open the wine and pour us each a glass. “How is Courtney doing?”

  “She starts chemo after the holidays. I think she’s handling it better than I ever could. She’s a rock.” Once we’re in the living room, we sit on the couch together, our knees touching. “We lost our mom to cancer. Not too long ago, either. That’s what makes this so much harder. The girls never even knew their grandma. It kills me to think they might not know their mother, either.”

  My mom is constantly telling me she only wants Hunter and me to get along. She wants a strong family bond. I find it difficult to forgive him for what he did. Landon opening up about his mother, though, strikes a nerve. I complain about my mom and my brother but I can’t imagine life without either of them.

  “Hunter and I used to get along. And then when he stole from Mom I was so angry. Cutting him out of my life was easy once he was in prison. I didn’t visit him. No letters. I refused to talk about him with my mom. I always knew he was there though. If I wanted to see him, the option existed. I don’t know how I would have felt if that slim chance wasn’t there.”

  “Do you think you’ll ever have a relationship with him? Do you want one?”

  The question hits me in the face, panic almost rushing over me. I never think about it. Whenever his name comes up, I shut down and push any possibility of a relationship out of my mind. Life is easier when you expect nothing. Then you can’t be disappointed.

  “I don’t know. I mean, I want the Hunter back I knew years ago. Even before all this happened with my mom. Before a life filled with crime took him over. I worry he’s not in there anymore, though.”

  “He said he went to rehab. Don’t you believe him?”

  “I do. I worry he’ll revert to his old ways.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  I shrug, stroking the side of my wine glass with my thumb. “Most people do. People don’t change. They always stay the same.”

  “Come on, you don’t believe that do you? Take a look around your house. Even a week ago if I told you this place would be decorated for Christmas you would have laughed in my face. You’ve changed.”

  Have I, though? So I hung a few snowflakes and baked cookies. Does that make me a changed woman? I can’t even attend a gathering with more than Landon. I’m not looking into the future but I don’t foresee me hosting a big family dinner next year. “I’m a work in progress.”

  Landon smiles as he takes my glass and places it on the coffee table. “Is that right?” He leans in, sliding his hand up my thigh, touching his lips to my neck. “I like working on you.”

  I allow him to guide me on the couch to a horizontal position. Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays, Hallelujah! My sweater comes off, his shirt ends up on the floor, and I fumble to unbutton his jeans. I yank them down, and he’s hard on top of me. We’re a tangled mess of moans and groans, our lips exploring each other’s skin. Landon shifts his weight to the right, pushing his leg out, and the wine glasses crash to the floor.

  “I’m so sorry!” Landon hops off of me. I say nothing, racing to the kitchen for towels. Landon takes the towels from me and blots the area. “I can’t believe I did this.”

  “It’s not a big deal. This is why I have wood floors. This isn’t the first time I’ve spilled wine on my floor, and it won’t be the last.” My eyes move from his head to his toes and back up again. “It is the first time anyone has done it naked.”

  He stands at full attention, his hands on his hips. I snicker at him, and he slides his boxers on. “You don’t like that?”

  “Like Seinfeld once said, there’s good naked and bad naked. Crouching to clean up a spill is bad naked.”

  “Understood,” he says as he salutes me. “After this is cleaned up, shall we continue this in your bedroom?”

  My fingers trace his chest. “I’ll ride you like Santa’s sleigh.” I don’t know what’s come over me, but from the outline of Landon’s boxers, he likes it, too.

  26

  Juliette

  For the first time in my adult life, I can call Christmas a success. Landon spent the night, we talked for hours after we made love, and he decided to call Jeff and accept the job. His choice to put his issues with Jeff aside puts things into perspective for me, and I know what I need to do.

  I show up at my mom’s house a little after nine with a half dozen donuts from Dunkin’ Donuts. Between the three of us, we should be able to finish these off no problem. Dunkin’ Donuts has always been one of my favorites. I also have a drink for each of us.

  My mom opens the door, a not so genuine smile on her face. “Good morning, Juliette. It’s the morning after Christmas, not Christmas.”

  “I know. I’m sorry I didn’t come.” I never come though. This shouldn’t be a shock to her.

  “No call, either.”

  Crap. I do typically call. I listen to her lecture me about why I should be there with her, how we should take the trip to see Hunter, and if she thinks my dad is enjoying his morning with his mid-life crisis. I can’t believe I did that. “I’m sorry.” I lift the donuts up and show her my carrier full of drinks. “Make it up to you with carbs and sugar?”

  She sighs but puts a more convincing smile on her face. “Come on in. Your brother is just getting out of bed.”

  That must be nice to sleep that late with no job to interrupt precious sleep. I took today off, and I still woke up early.

  My mom leads me into the kitchen where I put down the donuts and take paper plates out of the cabinet. I can barely find a place on the table to put the food. “What’s all this?” I point to the piles of papers covering the table.

  “Just balancing my checkbook. I usually do it every week but with your brother here it totally slipped my mind. I’m playing catch-up.”

  “Mom, why not do it online? It would be so much easier.”

  “Oh, hush. You know I’m not terrified of the computer like some people my age—I do the FaceTime with you—but some things are best done the old-fashioned way.”

  Her logic makes me laugh, and I’m in the middle of a giggle when Hunter bounces into the room. “Morning, sis!” He invades my personal space by smashing a kiss on my cheek.

  “Ew, gross.” I wipe my ch
eek.

  “Oh, stop it. I’m your brother, not some stranger on the street.”

  What he doesn’t realize, though, is that he is kind of like a stranger to me. I don’t know him anymore. I haven’t known him for years, even for a time before he went to prison. Now I’m observing him interact with my mom, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe I’ve been too hard on him.

  “How was Christmas yesterday?” I start the conversation, wanting to prove I can be a big person and move past our differences.

  “Great! Mom and I baked cookies, because you know Mom can never have enough cookies, and watched a few movies. The day was quiet but good.”

  He doesn’t ask me about my day because he assumes I stayed at home and pouted over the holiday. I’m forced to volunteer the information. “Mine was fine. I spent it with Landon.”

  “Spent it—do you mean it like Christmas?” Hunter bites into a donut.

  “Yes. Like Christmas. I actually baked cookies, too.”

  “Dear Lord, what have you done with my child?” My mom presses her hand to her chest and looks up at the ceiling. We all laugh.

  “It’s pretty serious with this Landon fellow, isn’t it?”

  “I guess. I mean, we’re hanging out.”

  “Hanging out? What does that mean?” My mom asks as she pulls a knife out of the drawer. My mom is the only person I know who cuts her donuts.

  “It means they’re doing the dirty without labeling it.”

  “Shut up, Hunter! That’s not what it means.”

  “Sure sounds like it to me.” I can’t believe my mother agrees with him. It’s ridiculous, and it’s even grosser thinking about her imagining that.

  “We’re spending time together. We like each other. It’s not like I’m getting married.”

  “Why not?” They both ask at the same time.