Christmas Wishes and Mistletoe Kisses: A feel good Christmas romance novel (16 page)

Abbey had two more rooms she planned to paint. She had lighting to rewire, new chandeliers in a few of the rooms. She wanted to replace some nicked pieces of woodwork around an ornamental accent on the ceiling that encircled the chandelier. The snow would put this entire process behind because she couldn’t possibly do it all herself. And now, as she watched the paint drying, she finally admitted to herself that it was completely the wrong color. Her watch read nearly midnight. She’d spent a hour and hadn’t even finished a wall. Tears pricked her eyes.

She took in a deep breath to try to keep herself together but it caught, and she sucked in ragged breaths instead. This project meant a lot to her. It was the first time in her life she was doing something that made her happy. She was living out her dream. It was the shot of a lifetime. If she could pull this off, people would trust her and hire her for more projects. She might even be able to open her own business one day.

She was tired. She could feel her tears surfacing. With a sniffle, she put the roller back into the paint and started again.

“How’s it going?” Nick’s voice echoed through the room.

Abbey’s frustration and exhaustion had been building with every paint stroke, and if she spoke, she’d start to cry, so she just looked at him, her lip trembling against her will.

His face flooded with concern and he walked closer to her. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, holding her breath to keep the sobs at bay.

“Tell me,” he said gently.

“The paint’s the wrong color,” she said with a sniffle. Tears were filling her eyes, blurring her vision. She felt so unprofessional, but then again, she was covered in paint and still there, doing it all alone at midnight. None of it was going according to plan at the moment. “And the painters canceled.” She took in another jagged breath and a tear escaped down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away and tried to breathe to release the tension in her chest. She had to get herself together.

Nick reached over and ran his finger across her cheek. Was she still crying? She was so embarrassed.

He held up his gray finger. “You have paint all over your face,” he said with a small smile. He turned around and looked at the room. “Are you painting all the walls in here?”

“Yes.”

“And when do you need to be finished with this one?”

“Yesterday,” she said.

He looked at her, more concern on his face. Was he worried that she wouldn’t get it done? Was he second-guessing his decision to hire her?

“I know,” she said, answering her own questions. “I should have a team doing this, but the snow caused my painters to cancel on me. There’s no one but me to do it.”

“Hmm,” he said. “I understand. I’ll see what I can do.”

Without another word, he left the room. Who was he going to get to help her at midnight? Was he going to personally have the roads plowed all the way to the paint company? There was nothing his money could do to help her now. She’d have to just do it herself. She rolled her head on her shoulders and tried not to think about how tired she’d be taking care of Max tomorrow after painting all night.

Abbey opened up another can of paint and poured it into the tray. Then, she started painting again. With every stroke, she worried more and more about finishing this tonight. It was proving to be a much bigger job than it had looked, but she kept painting.

“Tell me what to do,” Nick said from the doorway. He had on a T-shirt, jeans, and bare feet. He walked over and pulled one of the rollers off the floor, ripping the plastic packaging off and putting it into the paint.

“You don’t have to do this,” she said, putting her roller down and walking over to him. “You’ve hired me to do it. I’d feel terrible making you work.”

“You asked once, how would I show someone I cared if I didn’t have my money to fall back on; remember that? Well, my money won’t help us tonight. So, I’m painting
with
you. Because I care.” He pushed the roller back and forth, filling it with paint and put it on the wall. “Just go up and down?”

With her tears still present and a smile on her face, she nodded. “Like this,” she said, moving her roller up and down at a slight angle. “Thank you,” she said as they both started to paint.

They both painted quietly, their rollers making wet, spongy noises against the wall. Abbey noticed how much more quickly it was going with two people, not to mention that Nick’s height allowed him to cover more of the wall with his strokes. He was also able to get up near the ceiling around the crown molding that she couldn’t reach. She’d shown him how to avoid brush strokes by going around the doorframe. After a few practices there, he’d done the area by the ceiling with ease.

As they finished the last wall, Nick said, “The color isn’t that bad.” He stopped and took a step back to look at it. Abbey turned toward him and laughed.

“What?”

She laughed again at the sight of him. “You have paint on your nose.”

Nick tried to wipe it off, only smudging more across his cheek.

“Now it’s on your cheek.”

“Well, we match then. Except you have some on your forehead as well.”

She walked over to him and looked up into his eyes sweetly. Then she dragged her hand across his forehead, making a large, gray streak. “
Now
we match,” she said.

He took a step back, a suspicious look on his face as she bent down, pretended to cover her roller, and wiggled her fingers around in the paint. He lifted his T-shirt to wipe his face. When he did, he revealed his bare chest and waist, the sight of it causing her to drop her roller. Paint splashed up on her, dousing her shirt with gray. He laughed, clearly realizing what had happened.

“Why did you drop your roller?” he asked.

“I was finished with it,” she said, having trouble making eye contact.

“Well,” he chuckled again, obviously seeing through her answer. “Now you have paint on your neck
and
your face. Would you like me to wipe it off with my T-shirt?” he asked, barely able to get the words out without laughing.

She faked a serious expression and turned away from him, glad the paint was covering her blushing cheeks.

“So, is this room finished now?” he asked, changing the subject.

She turned around. “I still want to fix the woodwork in that ornament on the ceiling.”

“Where?” He tilted his head back to look up at it.

“There,” she pointed at the spot.

“I don’t see it.”

“How can you not? It’s right there?”

“That little break?”

“Yes.”

“No one will see that. Don’t worry yourself with it.”

“They will if they’re lying in bed.”

“They’ll be sleeping.”

“What if they aren’t? They’ll see it.”

“Where’s the bed going to go?” he asked.

“Here.” She walked over to the spot where she’d planned to place the king-sized four-poster bed. “Look.” She lay down on the drop cloth and patted the area of floor beside her. “Come lie down and look at it. It’s an eyesore.”

Nick lay down beside her, their shoulders touching, and stared at the ceiling. “Are two people really going to be sleeping like this? Like statues?”

Abbey laughed.

They stared at it for a while, and Abbey could feel the drop of her eyelids and the silence that was settling upon them. It was nearly four in the morning now, and neither of them had stopped for even a breath. She let her eyes close.

A
bbey was
aware of the birds outside her window and the chemical smell of paint. She tried to open her eyes but they wouldn’t budge. She was too tired. Had she slept in the bed with paint still on her? Was she ruining the sheets? She forced her eyes to open and gasped. Nick stirred under her. They were still on the floor of the bedroom. As she tried to move, she had an ache in her hip and her lower back from sleeping on the wooden floor. Nick had his arm under her neck, his hand on her shoulder, and she was lying half on top of him and half on the floor. When she attempted to sit up, her shirt pulled away from her, causing her to stop and look down.

“Morning,” he said with sleepy eyes. She wanted to take in the adorable way he was looking at her, but she was in a slight panic as her shirt pulled further down her body. His eyes slid down her neck and she wriggled down to keep him from seeing anything else.

“Our shirts are stuck together,” she said. “The paint on my shirt must have dried last night while we were sleeping.”

“One of us will have to take our shirt off then,” he said with a crooked grin.

She cut her eyes at him.

“Okay,” he chuckled. “I’ll take mine off. You aren’t holding any rollers, are you?”

“Oh, hush,” she said, trying not to smile.

He pulled his arms out of his shirt and, as she held on to hers, trying desperately to keep herself covered, he slipped his off his head. Abbey wadded it up along the front of her and crossed her arms, trying her best not to look at him sitting there in only a pair of jeans.

“Thank you again for helping me last night. I hope I didn’t pull you from your work.”

“Nope,” he said with a smile. His dark hair was messy, and he had stubble on his face.

She swallowed, trying to keep her thoughts from showing.

“I got the company.” He grinned at her. “It cost me a million more than I’d wanted it to, and a dinner with Max, but I got it. I promise to make it up to him.”

“I believe you,” she said, and she meant it.

A
bbey was tired today
, so she switched a few things on her timeline and focused on the living room. It wasn’t as big as the ballroom, but it was still quite a large space. The ceilings were high, the walls a deep brown color with oversized moldings in stark white, making the room quite bright, and she already liked the color choices, which meant no painting was required. After last night, she was glad about that. The room had a lovely brown leather sofa and two matching chairs with a big-screen television on the wall.

She added mahogany side tables with oversized lamps, magazine racks for each side of the sofa, filled with the latest copies of travel and food magazines. The sofa was full of down-filled throw pillows in reds and deep blues, providing the pop of color that it needed. She hung a painting she’d found at an art gallery online on the large, blank wall opposite the sofa. It had all the colors tied together in streaks of bright paint on a stark white background. In the corner was an empty Christmas tree. Abbey was waiting to decorate that one. She had some plans to do it in a more traditional fashion, and she’d need Max to help her with it.

She looked around at how warm and cozy this room appeared after she’d had her hands on it. The recessed lighting in the ceiling, which was on a dimmer switch, was on, so she could make the room feel like it had more lamplight instead of harsh overhead lights. She’d adjusted the lighting and put the throw on the sofa when Nick came in.

“Hi,” he said as he looked around. “Wow, you don’t stop, do you? I could hardly get a cup of coffee in this morning.”

“I’m trying to keep my schedule,” she said with a smile. “But I have a quick moment for a break. Have you come in to relax?”

He smiled. “Relax?”

“Yes. I just figured you’d come to the living room to relax for a minute. Kick your feet up. Do you usually relax in here?”

“No,” he said, running his fingers along the new side table. “I hardly ever come in here. If I’m up, I’m working.”

“What if you were stuck in this house with no computer or phone—nothing to connect you to your job—what would you do to entertain yourself?” she asked as she sat down on the sofa.

He sat down beside her. “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.” She nudged him playfully with her shoulder and he looked down at his arm, that curiosity evident again. “What do you love?”

“I’d compose music. For piano,” he said quietly.

Abbey remembered the sound of the notes he’d played and how they’d affected her. “Really?”

“Yes.” He allowed a small smile to emerge.

“Do you have anything you’ve composed?”

“I have whole folders full from when I was younger. Before my father died.”

“Where are these folders?” This conversation had taken such an unexpected turn. Abbey knew all too well what this was like for him. She had files of decorating pictures, ideas jotted down, torn-out pages of magazines. She still had them all. Just like he still had his music.

“In my office.”

“Would you play me something that you’ve written?”

“I’ve never played for anyone before.”

“Do you like my decorating?”

Nick blinked, obviously trying to tie the question to the conversation. “Yes.”

“Do you really like it?”

“Yes.” He smiled at her.

“The way you feel about playing me your music is the way I felt when I started decorating your house. I was worried too. Play me something.” She stood up.

“We’ll wake up Max.”

“Play softly then. And he sleeps like a log. You won’t wake him.” She grabbed his hand, and she could see the immediate response in his body. He was nervous. He stood up and looked down at their hands. She twisted her fingers in his grip and intertwined hers with his. For just a moment, he rubbed her hand with his thumb and the feeling was so intimate that she worried she’d start to tremble herself.

They walked together to his office. Nick was very quiet the whole way, and she knew why. This was a big deal. He’d said he’d never played his music for anyone before. She assumed that meant his family as well. He’d never played for Caroline or his sister. He’d never played for his parents. But he was going to play for her.

As they entered the office, Nick clicked on the light and walked over to the dark wood bookshelf that spanned one entire wall. He pulled out two brown folders and set them down on top of all the papers on his desk. He opened one, revealing sheets upon sheets of papers with music notes scratched in pencil on printed lines, all stuffed inside the pockets. She could see the remnants of marks that had been erased and rewritten several times, and she imagined him at the piano, tinkering with the notes as he changed them on the page. It made her impatient to hear him play now. There was something so calming, so attractive about watching him.

He was studying the pages, turning them then turning back, obviously deliberating on which one to play. “May I choose?” she asked.

He stopped for a moment and looked at her. He was unsure, she could tell. She looked down at the pages. The notes meant nothing to her, so she read the titles. Carefully, she thumbed through, page after page, reading them until she got to the last one: “Dreams.” The title struck her. It was perfect.

“Play this one,” she said.

He slid it out of the folder’s pocket. As he turned to leave, Nick took her hand again, but this time it was like he was holding on to her for strength. This confident, wealthy businessman needed her?

The ballroom was bright with the morning light when they entered. Abbey let go of his hand and turned on the white lights of the two Christmas trees, and the lights looked like yellow stars against the gray sky outside. They cast a glow along the floor. Nick sat down. He propped the paper up on the music stand in front of them. Abbey sat down beside him. He turned to her, a subtle smile on his lips. Then, his foot settled on one of the pedals, and he placed his fingers on the keys.

He began to play. It was quiet, gentle, like the music boxes Max had had when he was a baby. The music was so beautiful that she closed her eyes to hear it better. It sounded tinkling and smooth at the same time, the notes bouncing around together softly. She’d never heard anything like it. It reminded her of a lullaby. Just hearing it took her back to those sleepless nights she’d had, a terrified new mother, all by herself with Max when he was a baby. It reminded her of rocking him, listening to his little sucking sounds once he’d fallen asleep, the smell of his hair. Like a slideshow, she thought of the smile Max had in his crib every morning, his first steps, the smear of birthday cake on his one-year-old lips, his first hit at his baseball game—so many memories.

Without warning, she could feel the swelling of tears in her closed eyes and she sniffled. Nick hadn’t even finished playing yet, and she already wanted to hear it again. She opened her eyes and a tear escaped down her cheek. She wiped it away. Never before had she had this kind of experience, and it made her feel differently in that moment. She felt like anything was possible.

The song ended and Nick turned toward her, immediately showing concern when he realized she was crying. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing at all.” She smiled and sniffled again. “It was beautiful.”

He stared at her for a moment as if deciding something. Then, he leaned in slowly, her heart speeding up with the realization of what was happening. He stopped just before meeting her lips. She could feel his breath, every inch of her body wanting to press herself against him. She couldn’t get close enough to him and the space between them was killing her. “I’m glad you liked it,” he whispered. Then, he closed his eyes and, under the mistletoe that hung over the piano, his lips met hers. The warmth of his hands as they moved around her, the tenderness in his kiss, the perfect way they fit together—she didn’t want it to end.

But, before she was ready, he gently pulled away. Thoughts were clear on his face. He swallowed. “This… was completely unexpected,” he said. She knew just what he meant. His money, his upbringing, his ridiculous choices for spending his earnings—none of it seemed as big as the way she felt at this moment.

T
o Abbey’s surprise
, the painters had made it out to do the other two bedrooms this afternoon. Abbey was so excited, she’d gone to find Nick. Last night, he’d offered to help her with the others. While she’d enjoyed herself, painting with him, she didn’t want to impose on his time, and she was happy to tell him he wouldn’t have to help her.

Abbey found him in the ballroom, and he was on the phone. He motioned for her to come and sit on the sofa as he finished his call. She looked around the room so as not to make eye contact and appear to eavesdrop, but as she let her eyes fall on the piano, she heard something about him traveling somewhere.

“Are you taking a trip?” she asked, standing up to face him as he hung up the phone. She worried about him flying in all this snow.

He cleared his throat. “I’m going to New York the day after tomorrow. I’ll be gone all week,” Nick said.

“Oh.”

“I’m going because I’m house hunting. I’m planning on moving just after Christmas. I haven’t told anyone except Robin yet.” He looked over her head for a moment as if he had to collect his thoughts. “It’s just easier to do what I do from a larger city. I could make more money in New York, and I feel that if I could be more hands-on with the business, be able to meet with people face to face, be available on a moment’s notice—if I could do that, things could grow on a grander scale than they are here. My living in Richmond is the last remnant of my marriage, and I’m ready to make a change.”

She stared at him, taking in this news. It was like someone had kicked her in the stomach, and all the possibilities rushed right down the drain. Her mind went to Max. She walked over to the piano bench and sat down. “You promised to go to Max’s school,” she said quietly.

“I will keep that promise,” he said.

Reality set in, the weight of it slamming against her temples and making them pound. He’d only just met her. They didn’t have any kind of relationship that would warrant keeping him here.

She understood that it should be easy to walk away, for the very reason that they hadn’t known each other very long, but the thought of not seeing him again and Max’s loss of a real man in his life made her feel like she had a cinder block on her chest.

“I can tell you’re upset.”

She tried to straighten out her face but was unsuccessful.

“I’m sorry I kissed you,” he said sitting down next to her.

His face came into a sharp focus. “You’re
sorry
?”

“I was simply acting on my feelings, and I should’ve thought it through. I didn’t mean to cross the personal–professional line.”

“What about eating tacos, dancing with me, the snowball fights, painting… Those weren’t crossing the personal–professional line? You even said you cared about me.”

“I do. And I don’t think we should allow things to move any further given my plans to leave. It was my fault for allowing it to progress as much as it has. After Christmas, I’ll be gone.”

Abbey realized something at that moment. “Is Caroline moving with you?” she asked. If he planned on taking Caroline with him, Abbey would be out of a job. She felt sick. She’d have to start looking as soon as she could get her car out. What was shaping up to be the best Christmas was now looking like one of her worst.

“Yes. She’ll be leaving as well. I was going to give you a month’s pay with your notice.”

“I think I need to have a moment to myself to process all of this,” she said. “I’m just going to go upstairs.” She stood up, blinked her eyes clear, and took in a breath. But then she turned around. He was still, his eyes on her. “I’m not sorry I kissed
you
,” she said. “I’m not sorry at all.” She walked back over to him, still not ready to leave this conversation.

“I’m glad I kissed you too. I meant it. I just think it made things harder, and that’s why I’m sorry.”

“Then why didn’t you say that?” she said, sitting back down next to him. She was so glad to hear him opening up a little and telling her how he really felt.

“I’m not as practiced at telling my feelings as you are.”

“What do you mean I’m practiced at telling my feelings?” she asked.

“You’re really good at it,” he said, his face shifting into a happier expression. “I can honestly say that I am fully aware of all your emotions as you are having them.” He was smiling at her now.

“Is that so?” She looked up and put her arms around him. The skin between his eyes wrinkled as he waited for an explanation for her behavior. Without another word, she leaned down and gave him a kiss.

“What was that for?” he said, their faces still close.

“I had to,” she teased. “We’re under the mistletoe.”

“Mmm hmm,” he said, leaning in for another. Then, he looked up at the mistletoe and shook his head.

T
he next morning
, the plows had finally come and Abbey could go home to pack properly for her and Max’s stay at Nick’s. Given his recent news, however, the wind had been taken out of her sails, and she was apprehensive about staying there with him. It would only make things more difficult.

Richard helped her put the few bags she was taking back to the apartment into her car as Max climbed into the backseat. Richard had returned her house key and assured her that someone would bring all her food by once the power had come back on at her apartment.

Once Max was in his seatbelt, she made her way down the long drive. Max was quiet, clearly sleepy from all the excitement yesterday, and she was relieved because it gave her time to clear her head. It was probably good that Nick would be gone next week. Then, she could just finish decorating what she could get done and have maybe only one more week after he returned. She wished things could be different… Abbey stopped herself. She wasn’t going to do any wishing. There were no Christmas miracles. She needed to get a grip and get over him.

She drove straight to her mother’s. She was leaving Max there for an hour or two to go Christmas shopping for him before she went home to pack. The good news was that she would get her check from Nick soon, so she could afford to spend a good amount on her son for once. She even planned to get Nick a present.