Richard and Lainey - Final

Richard shrugs. "How are you and Miranda doing? Has she forgiven you yet?"

Chris scowls. "No, not really. At least she stayed, but the bed's pretty cold."

This makes Richard laugh. "Aw, I know you can melt her ice, I've seen you do it before."

"Maybe. It's just...I think I might love her. For real."

"And you told her this, of course."

"Well, I said it to her the first time we had sex," Chris admits, somewhat sheepishly. "She doesn't believe me now. She keeps checking my phone to see if I'm texting Veronica."

"And are you still texting her?" Richard rolls his eyes when his friend gives a short nod.

"What? You know I can't give her up, Richard," Chris says, voice rising. "I won't. But I do love Miranda and I want her to stay with me."

"I think you're making a mistake but it's your life, man. So, you're going to have to convince Miranda you mean it," he tells his friend. "Flowers. Texts during the day. Not about how much you want to sleep with her, but about how beautiful she is, how much you appreciate her, shit like that."

Chris gives him a skeptical look. "That sounds like a lot of work."

"Oh, it is, trust me on that one. But you have to decide: is she worth it? Is your relationship worth fighting for?"

Chris pulls out his phone, texts quickly, then shows Richard:

Miranda, I was just thinking about you, about how lucky I am that someone as amazing as you is with me.

"Not bad. Keep it up." Richard wonders why he's giving Chris advice; it would be to his advantage if they broke up because that would lessen the chance that Lainey and Miranda would mend their friendship.

(Richard)

"This room's missing something." Lainey stands in the middle of the room, hands on her hips, surveying. Richard comes up behind her, slides his hands around her waist, kisses her neck. They've just finished bringing up the last of her stuff, three boxes of shoes. He just shook his head when he saw it and carried them into the bedroom.

"Like what?" She smells so good, like patchouli and sandalwood, a fragrance he will forever associate with her.

"A Christmas tree. Do you have one?"

"No. I've never had one." He nuzzles neck and she turns in his arms, not to kiss him, but to harass him about that fucking tree.

"Never? Like never ever? Was your dad a Christmas hater or something?" Her tone is light, her eyes dancing with merriment. Without waiting for his reply, she spins away, dancing out of his reach. "We'll put it right here, I think. I have a box of ornaments, but I'd like to get some new ones, and as for a tree skirt, I'll have to look."

He doesn't say anything, just lets her go on and on, so it's a little bit before she realizes his enthusiasm is lacking.

"Something tells me you're not into Christmas," Lainey says when she pauses for breath.

"What gives you that idea?" Richard picks up the coat she'd dropped on the back of the couch and hangs it up in the closet, adjusting the hangers. When he closes the door and turns around, she's right there in his space.

"All right, mister. What's going on? Do you hate Christmas? Are you a Scrooge?"

The giggly expression on her face fades away when he only stares at her. "Oh my god, Richard, I'm just kidding around. You look like you want to kill me."

"I don't hate Christmas," he says shortly, stepping around her. "I just don't celebrate it. I've never had a reason to." Scrooge? What the fuck?

"Well, I am going to change that. Starting with a tree and all the trimmings. Then, the two of us will go to the Christmas Eve service with my mom at her church and then--"

"Whoa back there. I haven't agreed to any of that." A sultry smile, a kiss and a stroking hand make him more amenable to this Christmas thing. To cement it, she pushes him down onto the couch, her eyes sparkling with victory because she knows she's already won, that he will do what she wants because he can't resist her.

***

(Richard)

Christmas Eve. Along with thousands of other people (it seems) Richard and Lainey go to a Christmas tree lot, where the pickings are slim.

"They all look bad," Lainey complains, passing by a particularly sparse pine. Richard shrugs, bored. A family passes by, mom and dad, two kids, all laughing and smiling. He watches them, wonders what that would be like, the whole family thing.

"Let's get a fake one," he says, not caring either way. He's ready to go home.

"I hate fake trees. They're so--fake. And where would we store it after Christmas?"

"We'll get one of those little ones. The kind that sits on the table."

"No way. Those are for old people." Grabbing his hand, she drags him farther along, inspecting each tree before finally choosing a decent-looking pine. After getting it wrapped, Richard wrestles it out to his car and ties it to the top, a Herculean task almost. When it's finally secured, he's sweaty and irritable, so done with this stupid shit.

"Can we go home now?" He lights a cigarette and leans against the car door. "I need a little time to prepare for being around your mother again."

"You're such a Scrooge, Richard." That hits him the wrong way, and he clenches his fists.

"Humfuckingbug, Lainey," he snarls, watching her flinch at his tone. Like he gives a fuck. Shooting him an irritated look, she yanks open the car door and gets in, slamming the door harder than she needs to. He flicks his cigarette to the ground, grinds it out with his shoe.

The ride is silent, the car full of things unspoken, of expectation and disappointment. It's hard to breathe. Maybe if she knew more about his upbringing, more about his father she'd be more understanding. Maybe. The thought of talking about Jack makes his throat seize up, though. The man's dead and he's still making Richard miserable.

He glances over at her, her face turned resolutely away from him, and he wonders why he's acting like such a jerk. She loves Christmas, obviously; would it kill him to indulge her? How often did she ask him for something?

***

(Richard)

He showers while Lainey decorates the tree, washing off the sap and scratches he'd received while setting it up. She'd wanted him to help but hadn't pushed when he demurred. Is he really a Scrooge? It's stupid, that he's letting it bother him. Chris would only laugh if Richard complained to him, maybe secretly be glad there's some friction between him and Lainey. And it's a stupid thing to fight about.

He's buttoning up his white shirt when she comes into the bedroom, her face glowing, and drags him out to see the tree.

A strange emotion washes over him when he sees how she's transformed that scraggly pine tree into a symbol of all the Christmases he's never known. He's never seen anything like it. Covered in white lights, the tree is a vision in ice blue. Ornaments in silver and blue dot the branches, with matching ribbons cascading down from the top. The room smells of pine. A white skirt conceals the tree stand. He moves closer, touches a glass ornament, his face reflected at him. It's cool beneath his finger.

"Where's the star?" he asks, and she presses a white glittery star into his hand with a smile. Great. He gets a chair from the kitchen and stands on it, attaches the star, climbs down.

"What do you think?" She slips her arm through his, leans her head against him.

"I like it."

*******

"What's wrong, babe?" Richard asks when they reach Chris's place. "You're awfully quiet."

She shrugs, bites her lip. "I know, I just...I don't really want to do this."

"Yeah, me either." He leans over and kisses her warm lips.

"Hey, come on in," Chris greets, stepping aside so Richard and Lainey can enter his townhome. It smells of a cinnamon candle, and the place drips Christmas. Santa Claus grins from the walls, the tables, and the blinking lights on the Christmas tree are going to make Richard's head hurt by the end of the evening.

Lainey kisses his cheek and then goes to find Miranda. He watches her go, and then turned to Chris. "I thought Lainey was nuts about this holiday, but this is..." He trails off when he catches sight of a large Santa Claus sitting in a sleigh on the island. The statue's cherubic smile gives him the creeps.

"Horrifying, I know." Chris shrugs, smiling sheepishly. "It makes her happy, though, and a happy Miranda is what I like." Richard starts to say something, then stops when he hears Lainey squeal.

"Oh my god, Miranda!" It makes him smile, everything about her makes him smile. He thinks of the red velvet box in his suit pocket, of the jewelry inside. She will love it.

"What's going on in there?" He doesn't really care, but it's obvious that his friend is excited about something. His relationship with Miranda has greatly improved, thanks to Richard's advice, which while he's happy to help his friend, he's not thrilled with his choice of partner. Well, maybe this happy thing will blow over soon, especially with Veronica still in the picture.

Richard's feelings for Lainey caught him by surprise, and still do on occasion. He never imagined that he'd be content with one woman, but he is. More than content. Not even his ex Isobel had given him this degree of satisfaction. With her, it was all about possessing her. Enough time had passed that he can admit that she was right: he hadn't valued her beyond her open legs, as she'd accused him. Did that mean her other claims were right as well, that he was just like his father? She'd said he was mean, and maybe he was. Their relationship hadn't been healthy. Toxic is the word Chris used.

Lainey, though. She's different than Isobel. He can see her as a whole person--not just for sex. She's sweet and loving, but not afraid to let him know when he's being an asshole.

"Oh," Chris says, his face shining. "I asked her to marry me."

Richard's thoughts stutter to a halt. "What?" He stares at his friend. "You're fucking with me."

"I'm not." Chris turns and pours whiskey into two glasses, hands one to Richard.

"You know, when I said you needed to let her know you care about her, I didn't mean give her a fucking ring."

Chris slams his glass down on the counter. "What the fuck? I love her, Richard," he hisses in a furious whisper. "Getting engaged is what normal people in normal relationships do. I'm sorry your last relationship fucked with your head, but don't try to bring me down to your shallow level, all right? You can at least pretend to be happy for me."

Richard's fingers tighten on the highball glass. Shallow? He looks away from his friend's angry face, hearing the two women's excited chatter from the next room. The box in his coat weighs heavily; it's not a ring, but a diamond necklace with their initials intertwined. How can he give that to Lainey now? She's going to see the velvet box and expect a ring. Shit.

"Besides," Chris adds, not looking at his friend. "It's not like we're getting married anytime soon. It's an engagement ring. That's it."

"That's it? Is that what you think?" Richard shakes his head incredulously. "A ring is only the beginning of everything you've always said you never wanted. What's next? A fucking baby?"

"Give me a fucking break. You really are a shit friend, Richard." Chris storms out of the kitchen, leaving Richard to brood. He shouldn't have said anything, but damn. He can't believe this, can't believe Chris. And he hadn't even talked to Richard about it. That's what bothers him the most. They'd always discussed everything--everything! And now Chris had made this terrible move to make it permanent with Miranda. Richard squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, feeling stressed. God.

Grasping his glass, Richard joins the others in the living room, summoning up a smile for Lainey, who jumps up and hugs him, whispers that she loves him in his ear. When he slides his arm around her waist and pulls her close, he feels a little better, but Chris is not looking at him and Miranda is sitting beside him on the leather couch, brandishing the rock on her finger. When she meets his eyes, hers glitter with triumphant malice.

"What did you get Lainey for Christmas, Richard?" Miranda's tone is venomous, at least that's how it sounds to him. "It will be hard to top this." The back of his neck turns red, feels Lainey stiffen next to him.

"It's not a contest, Miranda," she says, sounding annoyed. "Our relationship isn't based on that kind of thing. We love each other, and that's enough for me."

Now it's Miranda's turn to look irritated. "How like you to twist things around to make your relationship seem so much better than mine." Chris puts his hand on her leg, his eyes seeking Richard's.

"Hey," Richard says, giving Lainey a squeeze. It's like squeezing a rock. "It's Christmas Eve, let's not fight." He guides Lainey over to the loveseat and pulls her down beside him. "Let it go," he says in her ear, and kisses her hot cheek. She leans back against him with a sigh, but he wonders what she's thinking, wonders if she really believes what she'd said. Is she yearning for a ring? There's no way he can give her that necklace now, not with the bitch over there waiting for her chance to needle him. God. He can't believe Chris thinks he's in love with her.

Now that bitch will always be around, looking at him with her hateful, hot eyes. And to think he'd once thought her gorgeous.

Lainey's still upset, he can see it in the way she sits stiffly beside him, barely touching her drink, not eating any of the snacks on the coffee table, and he knows she's hungry, because he is. Maybe they should have gone to her mother's house--he's not sure that would have been any better.

He scoops up some tortilla chips and guacamole, ignoring the couple across from him who are making goo-goo eyes at each other. How long will the honeymoon last?

"We can leave whenever you want," he says, and Lainey sighs, and takes a chip from the plate, her pale pink fingernails scraping the paper.

"No, we have to stay. This is Miranda's big moment."

That makes him mad. "No, we do not fucking have to stay, Lainey. Her big moment is throwing that fucking ring in your face."

In response she abruptly gets up, knocking some chips on the floor. By the time he's caught them, she's disappeared into the bathroom.

"Trouble in paradise, Prince Charming?" Miranda's cutting tone makes him throw the plate to the floor, even though every fiber in his being screams for him to hurl it in her gloating face. Instead, he turns on his heel and storms out of the room. He can hear Lainey crying behind the locked door and knocks softly on it.

"Lainey? Let's go home."

On their way out to his car, he throws the small velvet box into the dumpster.

**

(Miranda)

Miranda smooths her hand over her flat belly, staring at her reflection in the mirror on the back of the bedroom door. She's late--but she won't tell Chris. Not yet. Not until she knows for sure. If she is, maybe that will make him move, bring him out of the torpor that seems to have come over him since the engagement. She presses her palm to her middle, the diamond sparkling on her finger. For a while thing had been good: lots of loving words and touches, laughter and fun times. Lately though, some of the luster has been lost.

Often she's home by herself while Chris is out with Richard at the gym, or rock climbing or whatever else the two of them do for fun. When she complains, Chris either blows her off or blows up, accusing her of suffocating him, of trying to ruin his friendship. He's also still texting that woman, she's sure of it.

It doesn't help that she and Lainey have grown even farther apart since Christmas Eve. She hadn't meant to upset Lainey; the memory of her friend dashing to the bathroom in tears makes Miranda squirm a little. She just can't help needling Richard, and Lainey is the collateral damage. The unfairness of it all is what really rankles: Miranda has the ring, but Lainey has the devotion. For as long as they've been friends, which is more than a decade, Miranda has always been the pretty one, the perfect one, the one the men notice first. Richard was no different, always staring at her, making inappropriate remarks. Offensive, but also affirming, if she's being honest.

Now, though, things have changed. Chris says he loves her, but sometimes his actions don't match up with the words. If he truly loved her, would he still be texting that Veronica woman? Calling her every day? He thinks she doesn't know, doesn't notice his secretive texting at night, sometimes even in their bed. It makes her burn with jealousy and anger--he'd said that Veronica was only a friend, but she's not sure she believes him. It's exhausting.

A baby would change things, wouldn't it? She closes her eyes, imagining the joy on his face when she tells him, the way his eyes would soften when he looks at her. For a few moments she indulges the fantasy, dreaming up a spacious home with a two-car garage, nursery upstairs and--

"Miranda? What are you doing?"

She turns away from the mirror and smiles. "Chris, I've wonderful news."

***

(Richard)

Richard sits down hard on the bench, stunned by what Chris has just told him. The gym is quiet for a Sunday morning; they'd been able to get a handball court easily. He grips his shirt in his hands, discombobulated. His friend paces back and forth in front of the lockers, raking his hand through his wet hair, a white towel gripped in his fist. Rivulets of water slip down his skin.

"You could at least say 'congratulations' or something," Chris finally says, straddling the bench. "I know you have something to say."

Richard blows his breath out noisily, any energy from the workout vanishing with Chris's news. "I--I really don't know what to say."

Chris squeezes his eyes shut. "Oh, my God, Richard. I do not want this."

"So tell her to get rid of it," he says, and his friend's eyes pop open.

"Did you really just say that? You know my feelings about that."

Richard shrugs. He hadn't really been serious, but what the hell does Chris want him to say? It's too late now for anything but that. There's a sinking feeling in Richard's belly; a child is very different than a girlfriend, he thinks with rising panic. That bitch already tries to monopolize Chris's time; what will a kid do?

"Fuck." Chris jumps up and starts pacing again. "I mean, what am I going to do? I don't want kids. I'm not even sure I want a wife."

Oh, here's a new thing. "What do you mean? Are you going to break it off?"

His friend sighs miserably. "I've been thinking about it before this," he admits. "I just--I think I love her but..."

"But?" Richard pauses, then lowers his voice. "Is it because of Veronica?"

"You know it is, Richard. Fuck! Now I gotta tell her Miranda's pregnant and I can't see her anymore." He slumps back down on the bench, head hanging.

"I don't quite see the logic there," Richard says, "Don't break it off with Veronica yet; wait and see."

"I don't know.... that seems shitty."

"And keeping your side piece after you're engaged isn't shitty?" Richard grins at this, but his friend is not amused.

"She's not my side piece. She's...." Chris's voice trails off. "I don't know what she is, honestly. I just know I don't want to give her up. We've known each other for a long time."

"And Miranda believed that bullshit about her only being a friend?" Richard raises his eyebrows, skeptical.

"Well, why wouldn't she?" He shrugs. "I don't have to explain my whole life to her, do I?" He scowls at Richard. "What does that look mean?"

"You want it both ways, my friend, and I'm not sure that will keep working."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Richard?" Chris squeezes the white towel in his hands before rubbing it over his wet hair.

"You want the comfort of a steady woman but without the strings, which you're now getting caught in, and you also want the no strings relationship with Veronica. It's gonna have to be one or the other, man. Things are just going to get more complicated."