Eight Christmas Eves (9 page)

“It can’t,
Helen. I never should have…It won’t happen again.”

“Okay,” she
said, nodding and starting to feel a little more hope. “So we’re agreed. We can
go back to being being…
us
. I don’t want to lose you, Cyrus.”

He let out a
breath, and his face seemed to relax. “I don’t want to lose you either. Let’s
just chalk it up to temporary insanity and forget it ever happened. Do you
think we can?”

She nodded
again. “Yes. Yes. It was just craziness or something. We’ll go back to being
us
again.”

“Okay.” He
smiled at her, although it seemed tired and worried at the edges. “Do you want
to start it?” He nodded toward the television set.

She pressed play.
and the opening chords of
White Christmas
filled the room.

She stared at
the credits blindly, trying to work everything through in her mind.

It was fine. It
was really fine. It was just a fluke. She and Cyrus would be okay. They needed
each other. Something so out of the blue wouldn’t really ruin a relationship
that had lasted through the highs and lows of eight years.

It was fine
that Cyrus didn’t want her that way. Other men found her attractive. Other men
wanted her. Ethan wanted her—she was pretty sure of that.

She and Cyrus
were about something else. And that was good. That was the way it should be.

Just because
kissing him had felt right didn’t mean that it was.

After several
minutes, she’d talked herself into feeling satisfied with things, and she no
longer felt like dying of humiliation every time she remembered kissing him.

If she could
keep that memory tucked away in a secret, undisclosed corner of her mind,
eventually it wouldn't bother her anymore.

That was the
way Cyrus wanted it. That was the way it should be.

“You all right,
kid?” he asked, after several minutes. He was studying her with faint anxiety.

It actually
helped—to know he was anxious too. She smiled at him. “Yeah. I’m all right.”

“Good,” he
said, smiling back. “Me too.”

So everything
was fine. They were back to normal, and soon the weirdness would be forgotten
as they went back to being who they'd always been.

What they'd
always been was really great.

It just took a
little bit of self-convincing for her to believe it was a pretty good Christmas
Eve after all.

two
years ago

Cyrus and his father had been
debating corporate strategy for over an hour.

It wasn’t just
an academic argument. The stakes were real and affected thousands of people.
The fact that his father was taking Cyrus’s opinion under advisement at all,
instead of simply making an executive decision, was a sign of the progress
they’d made in the last two years.

“All right,”
his father said at last, leaning back in his chair.

Cyrus blinked.
They were facing each other in chairs in front of the fireplace in the library,
instead of talking in the office, as a gesture toward its being Christmas Eve
and thus technically vacation. “All right what?”

“All right. I
concede the point.”

For a moment,
Cyrus’s mouth dropped open in absolute shock. Not once—not in all his life—had
his father ever admitted to being wrong when his son was right. “You concede it
in argument or in reality?”

“Is there a
difference?” It was obviously a rhetorical question since his dad leaned back
in his chair with a strangely sly smile. “No merger.”

“No merger,”
Cyrus repeated, still dazed with this inexplicable development. “Excellent.”

Drake glanced
at his watch and his eyes widened, as if he hadn’t realized it was so late in the
afternoon. “Helen and the Barnacle should be here by now.”

“I’m sure
they’ll arrive soon.” Cyrus stood up, stretching his back and picking up the
coffee cup he’d been drinking from earlier. “And dinner might be less tense if
you would try not to openly insult him.”

“He’s not
intelligent enough to recognize he’s being insulted.”

“I’m not
convinced that’s true, but either way Helen
does
recognize it.”

“If she’s
foolish enough to date such a creature, she has to expect me to voice
occasional disapproval.”

Cyrus sighed.
He hated Ethan.
Hated
him. Agreed with every negative comment his father
had ever made about the young man Helen had been dating for the last year. He
did his best to hide his feelings from Helen, however, since he didn’t want it
to end up destroying their relationship.

“I don’t
suppose you’ve discovered anything worthwhile yet in that regard,” his father
said, looking as tired as Cyrus felt.

Cyrus shook his
head with that heavy twisting in his gut he always felt about Ethan. “Nothing
we don’t already know.”

“He’s not
cheating on her?”

“My
investigators can’t find any evidence of it.” Cyrus’s fist tightened at just
the thought of the selfish, arrogant boy cheating on Helen. “But, if he wants
to marry her for her inheritance, he’s not likely to risk alienating her with
an affair.”

His father
nodded thoughtfully.

They had no
proof, of course, that Ethan was pursuing Helen primarily for the fortune she
would inherit, but Ethan’s wealthy father had cut him off with nothing,
something Cyrus had discovered shortly after the boy had started dating Helen.
So he’d always suspected—and his father had as well—that Helen was Ethan’s way
back into a life of wealth and ease.

Cyrus was
convinced his mind could have been changed if Ethan had shown himself to be a
strong, intelligent man and a generous, loving boyfriend. But, in Cyrus’s
perspective, he was neither of those things.

“Something will
have to be done,” his father said, “I refuse to let that creature marry her and
get his hands on her fortune when she turns twenty-one.”

“We still have
some time. I’ve always hoped the relationship would end naturally.”

“If it doesn’t
end naturally, then something will have to be done.” Drake’s voice had turned
almost dangerous. “I will not let him touch her money.”

“I won’t
either.” Cyrus felt torn and worried and kind of sick about the whole thing.

“I will do
anything to keep that from happening.”

Cyrus held his
father’s eyes. “It sounds like things might be cooling between them,” he said,
trying to lighten the mood. “Helen hasn’t wanted to talk about him for the last
month or so, and she sounds kind of depressed.”

Cyrus didn’t
want Helen to be sad, but if temporary sorrow meant she would get rid of an
unworthy boyfriend, then he was pretty sure it would be worth it.

“Good. If I
have to put up with another weekend of that Barnacle constantly pawing at her,
then I will have no choice but to run myself through with her Renaissance
dagger.”

Cyrus laughed
and then left the library in better spirits.

His life had
gone downhill in many ways since Helen had started dating Ethan, but at least
mutual hatred had brought him closer to his father.

*
* *

Cyrus had just gotten another
cup of coffee and glanced out the window to see if there was any sign of
Helen’s arrival when a voice startled him from down the hall.

“Cyrus,” Helen
said, approaching him in a stylish black trench coat and a bright red bag that
matched her scarf.

“Hey, kid,” he
said, smiling at the sight of her, even as he noticed that her eyes were more shadowed
than they should be and her smile wasn’t quite as glowing as it used to be.

She dropped her
bag, and he barely managed to put his coffee down on a console table before she
hugged him hard.

He hugged her
back, a clench in his chest easing as he felt how genuine and needy she felt.

Earlier this
year, he’d been worried that her relationship with Ethan would inevitably pull
them apart, but things had gotten better in the last few months. They’d talked
more on the phone, and Helen had even returned to her old habit of sending him
funny little text messages at random times of the day.

She felt like
herself now as he held her—not like some distant stranger.

When she pulled
away, her long, loose hair got tangled in one of the buttons on his shirt. It
took some doing to get it untangled, and by the end Helen was laughing and
clinging to the fabric of his shirt.

She wore subtle
make-up, diamonds in her ears, and an antique snowflake pendant made of
diamonds and one central ruby at her throat. She was thinner than she’d been as
a teenager—thinner than he liked to see her, since he assumed the weight loss
was Ethan’s influence. So her high cheekbones were sharply sculpted, making her
lips look fuller and more sensuous.

He could hardly
recognize in the woman in front of him the little girl he’d found on the side
of the road nine years ago.

The clever,
laughing, green eyes were the same, though, and so was the tender softness of
her mouth.

For a moment,
Cyrus felt a surge of attraction so strong it blurred his vision, and it only
intensified when her hands slid up and down his chest as she tried to smooth
out the wrinkles she’d put there.

Her eyes
lowered, almost shyly. As he looked down, he noticed the garish ring on her
right hand. A gift from Ethan, although thankfully not an engagement ring.

His gut dropped
sickeningly, and he stepped back—forcing the attraction down with ruthless
insistence. This was Helen.
Helen
. And, even if she hadn’t been in a
relationship with Ethan, she’d still be completely off-limits to him in that
way.

He'd done some
things he wasn't proud of in his life, but he wasn't willing to descend
that
far.

“Where’s
Ethan?” he asked, saying the name as a reminder and a punishment too.

“Still in the
car.” At his questioning look, she tightened her lips. “He’s on the phone.”

Cyrus could
read displeasure in her expression, so he assumed for some reason the phone
conversation was a point of contention.

“Everything all
right?” he asked, very carefully. He wanted to know. Wanted for her to know he
was there if she needed any help. But he didn’t want it to seem like he was
prying.

She’d made it
very clear on more than one occasion that her relationship was none of his
business.

“Yeah,” she
said. “I guess. It’s just…” She trailed off, looking away and biting her lower
lip in a way she used to do as a child.

He had to force
himself not to prompt her. Several months ago, when he’d been trying to subtly
find out whether Ethan was planning to get a job—since the boy had graduated
college and was still making no signs of job-hunting—Cyrus hadn’t been subtle
enough. They’d gotten into a two-hour fight that had ended with Helen’s not
calling him for almost a month.

“It’s fine,”
she finished half-heartedly. She reached down to pick up her bag. Then she
smiled at him fondly. “It’s really good to see you, Cyrus. I’ve missed you.”

There was no
particular reason for her to miss him, since they’d seen each other as much
this year as they had many of the years since they’d met. But it had felt
different, and Helen must know it as surely as Cyrus did.

“I’ve missed
you too,” he said, speaking only the truth. He reached over to take her bag and
walked with her up the stairs to her room.

When they
reached her room, Cyrus set the bag on the bench at the foot of the bed. He
turned and gazed down at her as she took her coat off. She wore tailored gray
trousers, high-heeled boots, and a fitted silk sweater in a red that matched
her bag and scarf.

She evidently
no longer cared that she wouldn’t blend in with the jeans and sweatshirts of a
college campus. She wore the expensive clothes well, but Cyrus preferred her in
more casual clothing—mostly because it was easier to remember how young she
actually was when she dressed like a teenager.

“Did you ever
feel,” she began, a little hesitantly. She dropped her eyes, her lashes
spreading out against her fair skin. “Did you ever feel, when you were married
to Rose Marie, that…”

Cyrus’s breath
caught in his throat. When she didn’t continue, he prompted, very softly, “Did
I ever feel what?”

“That you kept
running into brick walls?” She stared up at him, her eyes far too big in her
pale face.

“All the time.”

There wasn’t
anything else he could say. They stared at each other silently, sharing some
sort of poignant understanding.

Then he left, feeling
tired and worried about her. And also, despite himself, a little bit hopeful.

It was too
early to start to count on it, but maybe Ethan wouldn’t be around for long
after all.

***

Ethan was late for dinner.

He’d evidently
gotten another call—or maybe it was the same call that had lasted for over an
hour—but when Helen came down for dinner, she said Ethan was finishing up a
phone call and would be down in just a minute.

Drake frowned
at this announcement, and his frown deepened as the minutes continued. Cyrus
tried to make conversation, asking Helen about her internship at a prestigious
D.C. magazine. But Helen looked increasingly uncomfortable and kept glancing at
the stairs and at her watch. Drake was becoming visibly annoyed.

Cyrus could
have strangled Ethan—if for nothing else than for being stupid. He was quite
sure if
he
’d been dating a woman he had good reason to keep happy, the
first thing he’d do was discover the small things he could do to ensure her
family wasn’t annoyed with him.

For Drake Owen,
arriving on time and dressing appropriately for Christmas Eve dinner were two
of those things.

When Ethan
finally descended, it was clear he’d missed the mark on both of them. He wore
black jeans and one of those obnoxious woolen silk, long-sleeved t-shirts that
he must consider his trademark since he wore them all the time. This one was
steel-gray. Like all the others, it fit very closely to show off his
ostentatious muscle development.

Cyrus supposed
he was considered handsome. He’d spent much of his early life in Paris, and he
still put on a continental air, one Cyrus felt was simply ridiculous. He was
three years older than Helen and always seemed to be smirking.

Cyrus had hated
him when he first met him. Ethan had been wearing another one of those clingy
shirts when Cyrus and his date had met Ethan and Helen at a trendy downtown
restaurant. Cyrus had hated him when Helen had arrived unexpectedly at Cyrus’s
apartment one evening, to gush about how Ethan had just given her two dozen
roses to celebrate the anniversary of their first meeting.

But, for some
reason, Cyrus hated Ethan more now than ever before as he casually strode over
to stand beside Helen and pulled on her long, sleek ponytail in a gesture that
was somehow possessive and dismissive both.

Drake didn’t
say a word. He just turned to walk into the dining room. Cyrus tried
desperately to think of something to say but was too distracted by wanting to
punch the smirk off Ethan’s face.

Helen had shot
Ethan an annoyed glance, but she now looked kind of flustered. Cyrus figured
she was embarrassed by Ethan’s behavior. He'd always been similarly embarrassed
when Rose Marie had made a scene or shown herself to be less than civil.

At least, Helen
was recognizing something wrong with her boyfriend’s behavior. Earlier that
year, Ethan could do no wrong in Helen’s eyes. Even something as gauche and
offensive as French kissing her in the middle of dinner had earned a giddy
giggle from Helen.

She’d been in
the first wave of infatuation then, though. She wasn’t anymore.

*
* *

Cyrus was relieved when dinner
was over. They’d managed a civil conversation by mostly just ignoring Ethan,
but Cyrus didn’t want to push their luck and have the holiday dinner turn into
a fight, which was what would happen if either he or his father spoke their
mind.

So he was
shocked when his father suggested drinks in the library after dinner. When
Cyrus looked at him in surprise, his dad just arched his eyebrows at him
blandly. Since there was no way to politely refuse, they all traipsed into the
library, where the 20-foot Christmas tree filled one corner and a fire was
blazing in the fireplace.