Not Another Christmas Movie

"The previous four years, Carrie had been away at school, so she really only came home for a few days each Christmas. Mom had missed it, you know? And she was so excited that year because Carrie was done and was working back here. She was a teacher. A really good one. The kids loved her. And it meant that Carrie got some time off at Christmas, I had time off... it was just like when we were growing up.

"She wanted to visit my grandma that night. On Christmas Eve, I mean. Gran had been really sick, was living in a nursing home. And Mom absolutely insisted we wear the matching sweaters that night. So we piled into Dad's car, went out and visited Gran, cheered her up. Mom was so happy, but I remember she cried on the way home. She thought it was Gran's last Christmas and, well, I mean no one wants to... you don't want to think it's anyone's last Christmas."

He paused, brushing snow off Carrie's headstone before continuing.

"I don't remember much about the accident. Carrie and I always fought about who had to sit on Dad's side, because he had to push the seat back further than Mom did. And I won, because I was taller than she was so I needed more legroom. So when we got hit, she was on the driver's side with him. I slammed against the window—cut my face up pretty good and passed out—but somehow, that was it. Everyone else... well. Carrie and Dad were gone before the car even stopped spinning.

"Mom made it through the night. I got to talk to her again before she..."

His voice caught and I reached out, touching his arm. My heart was breaking for Cole, and I was struggling not to cry as he spoke.

He cleared his throat. "She knew, you know? She knew she wasn't going to make it. And she just said to me that I had to keep making Christmas special. And I promised her I would."

I was blinking rapidly, but it wasn't helping. A tear spilled over, tracing an icy path down my cheek.

"I said I'd make sure I celebrated for all of them. I owe it to them."

"Cole..."

I pulled him towards me as he roughly brushed his hands against his face.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered. "I'm so, so sorry."

We hugged quietly for a few moments until he cleared his throat.

"I didn't bring you here to make you think your situation was better by comparison. I just wanted you to know that I understand. I really do understand. And I needed you to know why I have to celebrate it." Cole's eyes were red, but he looked at me intently. "It's a non-negotiable part of my life."

"I understand."

We turned back to the graves, gazing down at them, and I reached for Cole's hand. He held it tightly as we stood there, quiet in our introspection, and didn't leave until soft flakes of snow began dotting the night sky, landing softly on our shoulders and in our hair like floating tears.

**

I used to wake up early on Christmas morning. As a kid, there was a reason for it. But I never stopped, even as I grew up. Year after year, I would wake up long before the sun and excitedly prepare for the coming day.

The day after Frank had left me, on Christmas morning, I woke up late. I had barely slept the night before, and when I finally did, I slept until nearly noon.

The following year, I had the same problem. I slept fitfully and stayed in bed until long after I should have.

The year after that, I had purposely stayed up drinking until late in the evening, and rolled out of bed sometime in the middle of the afternoon with a splitting hangover.

That year, the year I met Cole, the day after we had gone to the cemetery, I woke up early.

The sun wasn't up yet, but I couldn't go back to sleep. I got out of bed and made a coffee, forgoing the peppermint schnapps in favour of regular milk and sugar, and settled myself in the armchair across from my spindly Christmas tree.

Had it been under any other circumstances, I would probably have asked Cole to come to my place the previous evening. But his message had been clear: if we were going to explore that avenue, I had to accept Christmas. I didn't have to celebrate it the way he did, I wouldn't be expected to be engrossed in it the way I used to, but he would not be cutting that part of his life out for me.

And I would never, ever have asked him to. Not after what he shared with me. I might have been a cynical bitch, I might have gotten angrier than I should have and yelled when I should have listened, but I was not heartless.

He had said that it wasn't meant to make my past seem trivial by comparison, and I truly believed he didn't intend for me to feel that way. How could one not, though? What Frank had done to me was awful, but what had happened to Cole was unimaginably cruel.

Yet somehow, he handled it. Somehow, Cole rose above what had happened to him, and celebrated for people who couldn't.

I had been attracted to Cole the moment I first saw him. It seemed like eons earlier that he had walked down that hallway, grinning in a way that made my body burn. That version of me would have been happy jumping into bed with Cole, having a good time for a night or two, and moving on.

Somewhere along the line, that version of me had changed. I didn't want to jump into bed with Cole for a night or two. I wanted to live with Cole. I wanted him in my life, in my heart, and yes, in my bed. I wanted to be the one he reached for when he was sad. I wanted to pay him back for helping me cut loose the baggage Frank had left me. I wanted to wake up beside him on Christmas morning, I wanted to make new memories and new traditions for the both of us.

And there it was. The icy-hearted cynic of a female lead was softening, discovering that yes, she could love again. Yes, the sexy, mysterious man with a heart of gold was someone she could see herself with. That after all of it, her Christmas spirit was there, deep inside, waiting to be set free yet again.

The sappiness of it all made me roll my eyes, but it didn't make it any less true.

My eyes fell on the wrapped gift under the tree. Cole had thrown me off when he came over the day before, and I had forgotten to give it to him. Not that it would have been appropriate after what he had shared, in any case.

I stared at it for a long time as I sipped my coffee. When the first rays of sunlight started seeping through the window, I drank the last sip and got up.

Once my hair was brushed and I had changed into jeans and a sweater, I grabbed the present and my keys. If my life were a Hallmark movie, a particularly eagle-eyed viewer would point out that I had no idea where Cole lived, and how could I possibly have gone to his house without knowing his address? The other viewers in the room would shush that person, telling them to just enjoy the damn movie.

I'd get to Cole's house, knocking on the door just as the sun came up behind me. A confused-looking Cole would answer, hair tousled artfully as the last traces of sleep clutched at the corners of his eyes.

"Nicki? What are you doing here?"

"Cole, I needed to see you. You've changed me. Changed my life. I needed you to know that at like 7 AM for some reason."

"But Nicki, my tragic backstory..."

"I accept it, Cole. If you can accept mine."

"Of course, but—"

"But nothing. You brought me my Christmas spirit, Cole. You found it for me. And I won't lose it again, not if you're with me."

"I'll always be with you."

And then he'd grab me and we'd kiss as the golden glow of the sunrise flashed across the yard, making the snow glitter festively as Christmas music played. Cole would conveniently not have morning breath, I would conveniently not have coffee breath, and the credits would roll as he pulled me inside.

Then that one cynical viewer would scoff. "How did she even know where his house was, though? Come on, who can believe that? And who just goes over to someone's house unannounced? She woke him up! I'd be pissed."

It was a good point. What actually ended up happening was that I paused, put my keys down, and picked up my phone.

Merry Christmas. Do you have plans today?

I sent it and started fixing myself another cup of coffee, not expecting that I would hear back right away. Surprisingly enough, he responded just a couple of minutes later.

Merry Christmas. Just woke up. Haven't made plans for the day.

Shit. I cringed guiltily.

Sorry. Didn't mean to wake you up.

You didn't.

Okay. Wanna have lunch or something?

There was a long pause between my question and his response. I tried not to let it get to me or make me sad. He just woke up, I reasoned. Maybe he fell back asleep. Or went to the bathroom. Or needed a moment to come to emotional terms with what I had just asked him. Who knows? I didn't, because he hadn't texted back yet.

I was half-done my coffee when my phone finally went off again.

Sorry for the delay. Yes, I would really like that.

I snorted. "Sorry for the delay," I muttered sarcastically, then immediately felt bad about it. Cole wasn't into playing games. It was either a practical delay or an emotional one, and I could certainly understand either.

Cool. Don't think much is open today. Wanna come here or do you want me to come to your place?

Again, he didn't respond right away. After a few minutes, I texted him again.

Please don't stress out about this. Are you more comfortable staying home, or do you want me to make you something here?

His next response only took a few seconds.

LOL. Was it that obvious? If it's good with you, can I come there? I need to get out of the house.

I smiled at the phone.

Yep. Come over whenever, just let me know when you're on your way.

I spent the rest of the morning panicking about what to feed Cole when he arrived. I didn't hate cooking, but it dawned on me that my usual fare of a tuna sandwich and salt-and-vinegar chips wasn't exactly a festive meal. Sandwiches felt like a good choice, though. Casual, but I could dress it up a bit. I had a small roast that I'd planned to use for meal prep. Cheese, mushrooms, onions. I could make a decent beef dip with that. And I had potatoes. I decided potato salad was a good side, even though it was more of a summer dish, and got to work preparing it.

By the time Cole arrived a few hours later, the potato salad was chilling in the fridge, all the sandwich ingredients were ready and just needed to be broiled, and I had even folded the laundry scattered around the living room and put it away properly. I was patting myself on the back for tidying up the place when Cole knocked on the door.

He wasn't wearing the Santa hat, or the sprig of holly. He also hadn't shaved, and a spatter of scruff covered his chin except over the spot where his scar cut along his jawline.

But he was smiling, and that smile lit up his face. I couldn't help but grin back.

"Come on in," I said.

He took off his shoes as I took his coat. I realized that it was the first time I had seen Cole in anything besides a suit. Other than the previous night, of course, which barely counted since he was wearing his winter coat.

Cole always looked great in his suit, but the sight of him dressed down sent a warm tingle through my chest. He wore nice fitting jeans and a sweater. Nothing fancy, but he looked comfortable, and that was enough to increase my heart rate just a little bit.

There was a moment of awkwardness after I put his coat away.

"Do you want a drink? Uh, water, coffee, orange juice... beer or wine, if you're inclined to day drink. Oh, or coffee and schnapps."

He raised his eyebrows. "Coffee and schnapps?"

"Yeah. I invented it. It's like peppermint hot chocolate but replace the chocolate with alcohol."

He insisted on trying it, so I made two of my special coffees and we made our way over to the couch.

"Look at this," he said, lifting up one of the clearance decorations I got. "This is... something."

I laughed. "It was on sale. Isn't it hideous? I had to rescue the poor thing."

The decoration in question was a small wooden figurine of birds wearing Christmas hats. In theory, it was a cute idea, but the thing looked like it had been carved by someone who had never seen a bird in real life, and painted by someone else who had tried to make their own paint out of toothpaste and food colouring. I had gotten it for less than a dollar because one of the beaks had been broken, but it had been easy enough to fix with a little glue.

Cole grinned. "It's probably the ugliest thing I've ever seen."

"I know. I love it."

"Your tree looks good there. Actually, I think it's even healthier than it was when you got it." He touched the wrapped present underneath it. "You didn't open your gift."

"Oh, that's not for me. It's for you."

Cole glanced up in alarm. "Oh, I didn't—"

"Don't," I interrupted. "You've put up with more than enough crap from me and done a lot for me in the past few weeks. It's nothing big. Open it."

We sat on the couch and Cole opened the present.

"Charlie Brown Special," he said, grinning when he saw the ornament. "This is amazing, thank you."

"It's no big deal," I said, blushing slightly as he shot that smile of his at me.

"And... Die Hard?" He frowned, chuckling a bit.

"Best Christmas movie ever," I stated.

He burst out laughing. "I never thought of it that way. This is awesome, Nicki. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," I replied. "Thank you. For... everything."

An air of seriousness fell between us, and a nervous tangle began in my stomach. Cole didn't say anything, and I stared down at my hands, trying to think of what to say next.

"I'm shit at this," I finally said. "Look, I thought... the past few months, working with you... now that we aren't working together... fuck."

"I know what you mean," he replied softly. "It's been great. It really has. And then I felt like I kept fucking it up with the Christmas thing. I meant what I said last night. It's a non-negotiable part of my life."

"I'm good with that," I said. He raised his eyebrows at me. "I am. I can't promise you it will always be easy, but you were right. New traditions, new memories. I like these memories that I'm making with you. I want more of them. I just want... more. I don't want to just have sex with you and then never speak again."

"Wait, that was an option?" Cole said.

My face must have been cartoonishly waylaid, because he burst out laughing. "I'm kidding. Call me old-fashioned or whatever, but I don't like doing that. I want more, too."

"Thank Christ," I muttered. I could nearly feel my heartbeat through my skin. "Look, do we have to talk about this more or can I just kiss you? Because I've been waiting for ages and I'd really like—"

He cut me off with his kiss, and I was incredibly thankful for it. I grabbed at his neck, clinging to him as his hands found my waist and pulled me closer.

I was hungry for him. I couldn't get enough of his lips, soft and demanding and tasting of peppermint and coffee. Cole returned in kind, eagerly exploring my mouth. His tongue slipped past my lips and flicked against mine.

My body reacted immediately. It wasn't a slow warmth spreading from my head to my toes; it wasn't a gradual build of arousal. No, it was like electricity shot from his hands as they pressed gently against me and his mouth as it claimed mine. All at once, I wanted all of him.

A soft noise escaped my lips and Cole pulled back. "Too fast?"

"For me or for you?" I gasped.

He laughed. "For you."

I launched myself into his lap as he trailed off, straddling his thighs and grasping at the front of his sweater as I pressed my lips to his again. I felt the corners of his mouth turn up as he smiled.

"Not... too fast... then?" he asked between kisses.

"Nope."

He touched my hips, hands sliding over my sweater along the side of my body. It was almost infuriatingly slow, almost tentative. All I wanted was to rip off his sweater, unbutton his jeans, and take him inside me. I nipped lightly at his lips as he wrapped his arms around my body.

"Too fast for you?" I breathed.

"Depends on what you mean."

I pulled back, opening my eyes as a tremor of uncertainty cut through the electrical current of his touch.

"What do you mean, what I mean?"

Cole looked at me intently. "If you mean 'too fast' as in, 'Do I think it's too soon to have sex,' no, I don't. I've wanted you for months. I feel like I've known you for years. I want you more than I can even say." He kissed me lightly before continuing. "If you mean 'too fast' as in, 'Do I want to spend a little more time in this moment, unwrapping you... exploring you... touching you everywhere...'" Another kiss fell on my lips, a bit more intense that time. "It's Christmas Day. The best part of opening gifts is the anticipation."

"That's the most romantic thing I've ever heard," I mumbled.

"Really?"

"Yeah. You sap." I batted lightly at his shoulder. "But let's try it."

His lips found mine again and again. Slowly, then quickly, then slowly again. I relaxed on his lap, my grip on his sweater loosening until I was just resting my hands against his chest. His hands wandered lazily, tracing the curve of my waist, running along my back, just grazing the waistband of my jeans.

In time, I began exploring, too. I touched his chest, feeling the muscles beneath his sweater. Then his shoulders, broad and strong and relaxed. My fingertips trailed along his neck until I felt the roughness of his facial hair beneath them, broken by the smooth scar on his jaw.

I followed its path along his cheek, mapping it beneath my touch. Cole sighed softly against me and tightened his grip, clutching my body to his. My lips left his and travelled along the same path as I feathered light kisses along his jaw.

He didn't say anything, but the intimacy of the act seemed to seal our fate. As my lips left the path of his scar and journeyed towards his ear, Cole's hands slipped beneath the ribbing at the bottom of my sweater. I shivered as his fingers met the skin on my stomach, lingering for just a moment before they began gliding further and further up.

One hand found the edge of my bra as the other moved to my back, holding me in place. He walked his fingers along my ribs, tracing the outline of my breasts. They trailed up along my cleavage, then continued along the top of the cup. Once he had made a full circle, his hand finally moved over my breast and squeezed just slightly.

His quiet groan made me smile as I kissed the spot below his ear, where his jaw met his neck. I kept kissing that spot as Cole's hand grew bolder, gripping my breast more firmly as he kneaded it. My nipple was achingly hard, pressing against the fabric of my bra and into the palm of his hand.

His breath was soft against my neck, and after a moment he buried his face against it. My hair tented over his head as he kissed my neck, his lips and tongue leaving a scorching trail as he nuzzled against me. I stifled a soft moan as his hand slipped into my bra. His fingers found my nipple, rolling it between his fingers before cupping my breast again.

Between my legs, things were getting slick. My pussy throbbed, begging for attention, and up to that point I had ignored it successfully. But when I felt Cole's body reacting, a growing hardness pressing against me, I couldn't help myself. Ever so slightly, I rolled my hips. The slightest of moans escaped my lips as I added friction between us, and Cole groaned again as his hips thrust up almost involuntarily.

His grip on my breast tightened, then released as he pulled his hand out of my bra. It joined the other one behind my back and he deftly unhooked my bra. I grinned as his fingers tangled with the straps and pulled back.

"For sake of ease, how about we just take off a layer or two?" I said.