Christmas Ever After Page 8

  The waiter came back with their food and they dug in, with Trinity making little sounds of pleasure that had his hold on his control weakening, what he would do to hear her make those sounds under him. His loins tightened uncomfortably, and he shifted, trying to ease the discomfort.

  She looked up at him and he stared at her with equal intensity, then someone approaching caught his attention and he sighed, his good mood evaporating.

  Jessika.

  She came toward their table her hips swaying in a movement he could bet was as practiced as the rest of her. She turned heads, but not his, his head and all of him was captured by the woman in front of him.

  She halted by his side, her perfume nauseatingly sweet, “Mikey,” she purred.

  Trinity’s head shot up, her eyes darkening at the sound of the nickname and she placed her hands on his own. That was uncharacteristic of her, yet it delighted him.

  Jessika’s eyes went to Trinity and she looked at his wife with dismissing eyes. “If I knew you were that desperate for a wife Mickey, I would have offered up myself. Your desperation shouldn’t have led you into marrying trash. A total nobody.”

  His hold on his control snapped at that moment and not for the reason he wanted it to. “There’s only one trash here and it’s not the woman across from me.”

  Jessika flinched as if she had been slapped but he paid her no mind, he was riveted by the smile that blossomed on Trinity’s face, it felt like the sun decided to shine in the restaurant, more specifically on his face.

  “But Mikey –”

  “You better leave sweetheart, before the real trash is taken out,” Trinity’s voice was firm and he celebrated the return of the fierce woman he knew. Jessika huffed and left in a flurry of movement.

  Trinity barely even spared a glance at the woman leaving, focusing only on him. “Thank you,” her voice was really messing with his head.

  “You’re welcome. I’m pretty sure you can handle yourself either way.” He was especially proud of the subtle insult she threw back at her.

  She laughed, a small sound that continued to do things to him. What was happening to him?

  “Wanna get out of here?”

  She nodded and he called for the waiter, needing the check.

  They left the restaurant hand in hand. He was hit with a sudden pang of regret, unwilling to end the night just yet, unwilling to go back home and relinquish her presence.

  He spied a discreet sign leading to the hotel casino and gently tugged her in the direction of a bank of slot machines, wondering what her reaction would be.

  She loved it.

  The moment they had gotten change, she had started playing the slot right next to his, pulling the lever, her eyes widening in anticipation of a lucky streak. They laughed playfully at their losses, and when he had won a prize, they had both looked at each other and laughed loudly.

  Well, he had laughed.

  She had squealed in delight. The sound sent shivers through him.

  When they had calculated the bounty, it came up to a whopping fifteen thousand dollars — his biggest win ever.

  When he gave it to her she had looked at him, speechless. He had second guessed the gesture until she leaped at him, happily winding her hands around his neck in glee. The full body contact made his body throb with need.

  What was it about this woman?

  Like a breath of fresh air, she invaded his lungs, every part of him.

  Mine, he affirmed before that nagging voice told him again that it was only for less than a year.

  He felt her pull back and he let her go, but as she returned to her feet, it hit again — the intoxicating flowery scent of hers that had taunted him all through dinner.

  That was the last straw, that scent.

  It reminded him too much or her elusive taste.

  His hand tightened as he drew her closer and tilted her head up, barely taking a second to savor her gasp and the stunned arousal that blazed through her wide brown eyes. His lips closed over hers and he wanted — no, he needed, craved — that taste. He needed to chase that essence again.

  Her lips trembled once, twice, before her body relaxed into his and her mouth.

  And welcomed him home.

  

  When Michael followed Trinity and Miranda to the shelter, Trinity suffered a small meltdown from feeling overwhelmed at the task in hand. Michael had witnessed her be capable and in control, he had wondered how she planned to disburse everything they brought.

  But that was ages ago. Now she was handing boxes to every available person, alternating by their age groups and obvious needs.

  Michael turned back to the box in his hand and handed it off to the child in front of him.

  "For me?"

  "Yes."

  The child turned to his mother. "Can I keep it?"

  "Sure, baby."

  The boy raced off with the box above his head, shouting at the top of his lungs. The mother watched her child with a wistful look.

  Michael turned to find Trinity looking wistfully at him too, and he gave her a smile.

  She smiled back.

  TRINITY

  S he thought for sure he would be out of his depth — standoffish at the most — but he had not only adapted, he had done so beautifully.

  She had raised her head, catching the encounter he had with the little boy, and she couldn't help but smile. Somehow, he had turned just in time to catch her look.

  She had turned away quickly, happy that she couldn't blush, and the sudden warmth couldn't show on her skin.

  She had not recovered from the night before. The recollections kept her awake through the night, the excitement thrumming just under her skin. She was falling for him, rushing headlong into it without brakes. Everything he did gave her more speed until she didn't know what to do anymore.

  No way to stall it. This is only temporary. Not forever.

  But her heart was beyond her, and she was steadily losing the battle.

  The panic and fear that crept in at the oddest moments had threatened to overtake her mind, but she pushed it to the back of her mind with a strength of will she didn't know she possessed.

  Distracting herself, she turned to the woman in front of her with a smile that was beginning to feel pasted on.

  When the last box was gone, Michael proposed lunch, and she was glad for it.

  Lunch was a noisy and boisterous affair, and she couldn't help but notice the seamless sense of family between the three of them. It was such a beautiful picture, so startling she had to turn away before the tears that lumped in her throat made an appearance.

  “We need a tree,” Miranda crowed dragging both adults towards the shopping mall. Michael’s face had momentarily darkened before he smoothed it over with a smile, following Miranda. The moment was so fast she wondered if she had imagined it.

  They went to an outdoor store that offered a selection of real trees. Miranda shot off like a bullet and left them wandering around the store looking for their daughter and a tree. A squeal from the far end of the store had both of them hurrying in the direction.

  Trinity couldn’t breathe, what if a tree had fallen on her baby? Thoughts kept running through her head. There were too many variables, most of them unknown.

  They got to the direction where Miranda was and saw her standing in front of the biggest tree in the store and a smile that rivalled the tree in size. When she saw them she came running, Trinity opened her arms in anticipation only to be shocked when her daughter ran into Michael’s arms instead. “Daddy, we’re getting that tree. It’s perfect.”

  Michael nodded in response and admonished her for running off without them. Miranda apologized quickly and said, “Thank you Daddy, I love you so much.” Miranda’s smile could rival anyone’s. Trinity’s heart squeezed and she knew that her daughter had fallen and so had she. She also realized that Michael would one day make a wonderful father to his children. Tears threatened to bubble to the surface when she imagine
d another woman having his children.

  She blinked before she turned back with a smile on her face, determined to enjoy the day.

  She wasn’t going to begrudge her daughter or herself a little happiness. They spent the rest of the afternoon buying decorations for their tree.

  

  They took the tree home and Celia’s eyes were bulging out of the socket. Trinity wondered about that because very few things surprised the older woman but got her answer when said older woman took her aside and asked, “How in God’s name did you get that boy to buy a Christmas tree? He has refused to buy a tree or even decorate this place during the holidays.”

  Trinity was surprised, “I didn’t do a thing. Miranda wanted it.”

  Celia laughed appreciatively, “After years and years of hating Christmas, your little girl bats her lashes and he falls over trying to please her. I love it.”

  MICHAEL

  S erendipity.

  That was the elusive feeling he had lost so long ago, lost at an age that was too tender, forcing him to grow up too fast. And suddenly, he was feeling it again. It was a feeling of home.

  It was taking all of him not to just let go and enjoy it.

  He had fought that phantom wave long enough until he decided to go with the flow. He could enjoy it now, because he wasn’t going to have it forever.

  He loved breakfast with his family, and he enjoyed their company. The spontaneous hugs Miranda gave warmed his heart, and the looks Trinity gave him also warmed him all over.

  He had begun to delegate work more and more, making sure he had time to eat breakfast and dinner with them, even shifting his in-office times so that he could be the one to pick up Miranda from school in the afternoons.

  He loved spending time with his Miranda’s mother, who he suspected was putting a bit of distance between them.

  It only made him want her even more.

  Different, in every way and better for it, he could not have chosen a better woman to marry. Of course, the expiration of their marriage weighed heavily on his mind. But anytime he started to think about it, he shoved it to the back of his mind.

  He was more interested in the here and now. What was happening between them was explosive for lack of a better word.

  Thanksgiving rolled around and Celia had the chef cook them a feast for days before she took her time off. They were the only ones in the house and Michael loved it, he had all the privacy he needed. His grandfather had decided to go on a last minute cruise and he did miss the old man, since it was just the two of them in the past.

  They sat at the dinner table and Trinity looked at the table appreciatively, “Celia outdid herself this time.” He couldn’t help but nod in agreement.

  By his side, Miranda held her hand out, he looked at her in confusion, not understanding why she wanted him to take her hand until he noticed Trinity doing the same on his other side. He took both their hands and felt peace. A peace that made him feel whole again.

  “I’m thankful for my mommy and my daddy,” Miranda’s soft voice jolted him out of his head, “And Tia Celia. And this huge house we live in now. And my school. And my new stuff. And, and, and everything!” she finished with a giggle.

  Trinity went next, “I’m thankful for the fact that we have a roof over our heads and peace of mind. I’m thankful that we’re able to give back to the community that we used to be a part of. I’m thankful for my little girl and for Michael,” his heart squeezed in response and he smiled, “I’m thankful for everything I have now and for everything I’ve learnt.”

  He was next and the words came flowing easily out of his mouth. “I’m thankful for both my girls,” he squeezed their hands each in turn and was rewarded by a giggle from Miranda, “I’m thankful for Celia and my grandfather. I’m thankful for taking that route home two months ago.” He squeezed Trinity’s hands and then kissed it.

  He was a better person because they came into his life. He didn’t want to think about what would have happened if he didn’t come upon Trinity and Miranda that evening months before. Who knows what those men would have done to them, he shuddered to think of it.

  After the dinner and despite Trinity’s protests, Miranda wanted to decorate their Christmas tree. He allowed himself to be sucked into the whirlwind of decorating. Trinity was part of it though, he and Trinity gave Miranda the mantle of leadership, following the little girl’s orders no matter how strange.

  Trinity was a stark contrast to his mother who never even bothered with Christmas or even any holiday for that matter. She paid a professional to come in and decorate their house. His mother was more concerned with her own appearance, never giving him the time of the day.

  When they were done, they opted to watch a movie, one about Christmas and they settled into the couch while he allowed his mind to drift.

  Miranda murmured in her sleep, and he turned his attention away from the woman beside him and noticed two things.

  One, the movie was over, the credits rolling.

  Two, the little girl on his lap was sleeping and needed to be taken to bed.

  "I'll take her," Trinity offered, as if she was reading his mind.

  "Let me do it," he insisted, carrying the small, warm weight up the stairs and into her bed.

  He laid her down, watching how she curled up, and her hair scattered across the pillow.

  "She makes such a pretty picture when she sleeps," he observed.

  "It's amazing how she looks angelic while she is sleeping." Trinity smiled down at the girl in bed who softly snored.

  "Are you implying she's not one when she is awake?" he asked, brows arched.

  "You said it."

  "Are you going to bed as well?"

  Though confused, she answered with, "Not just yet."

  "I want to show you something."

  He caught her hand and they walked out of the room and down to the garage with him in lead. Once there he dropped her hand and walked towards the car

  "This is a 1962 Ferrari 250 GTO."

  "Oh," Trinity exclaimed, her eyes running across the body of the car with appreciation in her eyes.

  He unlocked the doors, stepping in.

  "Are you coming?" he invited casually.

  She started in his direction, surprised.

  “Come on,” he encouraged.

  She took in the soft cream leather interior of the car. “Looks nice.”

  "More than nice." He returned with a mock glare, enjoying her sudden laughter.

  "It's beautiful.”

  “Yes it is, too bad a lot of things aren't.” His face suddenly darkened.

  "What are you talking about?"

  "I know that you’ve probably been wondering about my parents since the incident at Miranda’s school.” She opened her mouth to interject but he continued.

  “My mom killed my dad when I was six, right in front of me," he said. Emboldened by her silence, he continued, "I heard shouting and then I came downstairs and saw my mom hitting my dad’s chest. I tried getting their attention, but they didn’t hear me at first. I ran towards my dad and pulled on his leg begging them to stop. My dad reassured me that he loved me and that everything will be okay and asked that I go back to my bedroom, but I didn’t. Finally, my mom left the room and my dad hoisted me up on his hip and was on his way to bring me to my room when my mom came back into the living room with the gun. She pointed it at my dad even though I was in his arms. My dad quickly let me down and placed me behind him and he begged my mom to put the gun down. I remember her smile and I remember my dad shouting no. The next thing I remember is three loud bangs. She just shot him, while I was standing behind him. Our living room at the time was covered in his blood. The Christmas tree was red from his blood. When I got older, I learned that my dad had asked for a divorce from my mom after she cheated. Instead of losing all that money and prestige that came with being his wife, she killed him, right in front of me..."

  Trinity’s hand was covering her mouth and tea
rs were streaming down her face when he looked at her. He didn’t see pity in her eyes like he saw from others, he saw anger.

  “She killed him with his own gun and then turned the gun on herself. And even if I didn't understand the words being flung about, I understand the violence of that moment, the way the blood suddenly seemed to erupt and how his body was on the ground and still, too still." He paused, staring into blank space as if he could still see the image play out. “My grandfather came over and got me that same night. He had only just learned that his only son was murdered but his concern was for me. He wanted to get me out of that house and that town as soon as possible. My grandfather became my guardian from that day. He hired Celia to care for me and he did his best. He went to all my ball games and he stayed up with me for months when I would get the nightmares."

  He sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulder.

  "I think you needed to know that." With that, he left the car and firmly closed the door on his side.

  As she scrambled after him, he watched her moving closer, the emotions in his eyes banked.

  "You didn't have to but thank you so much for trusting me with that. I am sorry that you had to witness that. You were only one year older than Miranda," she whispered closely, her hand on his shoulder as she lifted earnest eyes to his.

  "Why are you so different?" he asked, allowing himself to feel, to let his desire for her show just a little.

  "I am just myself," she said, heart fluttering.

  “I know," he murmured and closed his lips over hers.

  He guided her backwards until her back was to the front of the car, all the while his lips assaulted hers. Her tongue flicked his lips before it tangled in his. He explored the dark cavern of her mouth and her taste, exploding all around him, driving all his senses to a high pitch until he was aware of nothing but her.

  Taste. Touch. Scent. Feel.

  He was lost in her, leaning against the car with her hand banded around him, her hips grinding into him, feeling the proof of his desire.