Third Christmas
Nick
I wake up Christmas morning with a stomach full of butterflies. Today is going to be one of the most important days of my life, and while the lead-up has held nothing but excitement, I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t an equal amount of anxiety swirling around in my gut.
There’s a ring nestled in a little black velvet box hidden in my underwear drawer. I knew the moment I saw it in the store window that it would be perfect for her. That it was the ring.
And even though my contract hasn’t been officially signed yet, and I haven’t received my advance, I know the money is coming, so I let myself splurge.
When I talked to Jess’s parents a few weeks ago—not so much to ask permission because Jess is a grown woman who can decide for herself, but because I wanted to share the news with the people closest to her—they both cried over FaceTime, telling me they couldn’t wait for me to officially be their son.
I’d been able to choke back the tears until we hung up, but I hope they know how much it meant to me, to have their support. Support that has been unwavering and unconditional, unlike the recent support I’ve suddenly been blessed with from my own family.
A couple of weeks ago, I called to tell them that not only are my books going to be published, but I received an offer for a life-changing amount of money. They never understood my writing or my love of romance novels, but they definitely understand the words “six figures.” I don’t even think it’s the money, necessarily, more that this is a tangible sign of success. When I made the decision to “abandon” the family business and pursue my own dreams, no one was really surprised. Despite the grooming my brothers and I went through as kids, it was always clear I never quite fit in at Matthews and Sons Construction. Moving to New York, according to my parents, was risky and a financially dumb decision. Why would I chance an unpredictable career like writing when I had a sure thing being handed to me?
Normally, conversations with my family end with one or both of my parents pleading for me to come home, to come work a “real” job. This latest conversation ended with my dad telling me he was proud of me for I think the first time ever. I want to pretend like I didn’t need to hear those words. But I did.
The one person who has been happiest for me over these past couple of whirlwind weeks is Jess. I’m sure it can’t have always been easy to see me getting everything we’ve both been working so hard for, but she has never once let her support falter or her smile waver. She has been there with me through every single second, even when my indecision about which deal to accept was likely driving her to the brink of insanity.
Luckily, in maybe the most fortuitous gift of good timing ever, Jess also got an offer. Only one, and more modest than mine, but with SVP, an incredible romance publisher whom I also ended up deciding to sign with.
A Christmas engagement should be the cherry on top of this life-goals sundae we’ve been digging into over the past few weeks.
So why is my stomach a sinking pit of dread?
I’ve spent the past two weeks mulling over a conversation I had with Marcus, the only person aside from Jess who can really understand what this opportunity means to me. We’ve been friends for so long, he’s seen me through every phase of my writing career.
When he made an offhand comment about how many more books I might sell if I were single—a sort of real-life book boyfriend—I didn’t take him too seriously. Marcus is in marketing, and I know by now he’s always looking for the next gimmick, the next way to go viral and sell big. He’s been able to do it for his clients more than once in the past, but it’s not like anything is ever guaranteed, so it was easy to shrug off his implications.
But when he mentioned how my success might overshadow Jess, I couldn’t dismiss that so easily. The publishing industry isn’t exactly transparent, but it doesn’t take a genius to figure out that, with the difference in the size of our advances, my book will be getting the lion’s share of SVP’s focus. And then there’s the real tough question—what if our relationship makes people question just how Jess got her deal—like SVP is doing me some kind of favor by publishing my girlfriend’s books alongside mine.
It’s been ruminating in my mind ever since that night at our favorite dive bar. I haven’t spoken about it with anyone, haven’t wanted to even bring it up again with Marcus, afraid he might provide me with even more compelling reasons why the greatest achievement of my life so far might be putting a damper on hers.
The more I consider all angles, the more I think Marcus might be right. Being tied to me could end up hurting Jess’s career, and I can’t think of anything in the world I want less.
There’s also a small part of me, a part I hate to even acknowledge, but it’s there, that knows Marcus is right about the other thing too. I can see how being single—being “attainable”—could help me sell more books.
If you had asked me a month ago if I would even think about trading my relationship with Jess to sell more books, I would have laughed at the mere suggestion.
Jess is everything to me.
Or she was, until that offer landed in my inbox. Until all of my dreams were suddenly within reach. Until my dad told me he was proud. Shame heats my cheeks at the very thought.
I know I should just tell her my concerns. I should let her know what Marcus said, let her be the one to decide if she would rather have a career where she can stand on her own merits, unencumbered by me.
I shake that thought out of my head. I know Jess. Her whole life revolves around love. She isn’t the type to pick a career over true love, or at least that’s what I keep telling myself. I don’t know if it makes me feel better or worse at this point.
I turn on my side, watching as Jess’s chest rises and falls. A tiny smile tugs on the corner of her lips, and I hope that means she’s having a good dream. The kind of dream where she gets everything she wants in life.
I slip out of bed, careful not to disturb her, tiptoeing past the living room where Alyssa and Kennedy sleep on an air mattress. In the kitchen of our one-bedroom apartment, I prep her coffee. In addition to splurging on a ring, I also bought us an espresso machine so Jess can make her disgustingly sweet coffee drinks from the comfort of our home. I even bought peppermint and chocolate syrups, even though the smell of peppermint makes me want to gag.
Jess’s love of Christmas isn’t going anywhere; it’s one of the reasons I picked today to propose.
I pour myself a mug of black coffee. Actually, that’s a lie, I throw a splash of whiskey in there because something tells me I’m going to need a little liquid courage.
Once Jess’s overly sweet drink is prepared, I take both mugs into the bedroom, setting hers on the night table before leaning down to place a soft kiss on her forehead.
She blinks up at me sleepily, that soft smile growing as she drinks me in. “Good morning.”
“Good morning.” I gesture to the coffee waiting for her before climbing back into bed next to her.
“Mmm. Peppermint mocha in bed on Christmas morning. Is it too soon to declare this the best Christmas ever?” She sits up, wrapping her hands around the mug and drinking deeply.
I laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound as hollow to her as it does to me. “Alyssa and Kennedy are still asleep.”
“Good. The three of us were up way too late last night.” She sets her mug on the nightstand so she can pull the covers up to her chin. “We had lots to catch up on.”
“Are they excited for your deal?”
A shadow darkens the golden brown of her eyes. “Of course.”
There’s a lot more there that she’s not saying, but I figure she doesn’t want to spill her friends’ secrets, so I don’t push for more details.
We cuddle in bed until we hear the girls stirring in the living room. Kennedy makes us breakfast, and after a walk around the neighborhood, we spend the afternoon watching Christmas movies and drinking hot chocolate. The whole thing would be idyllic if it weren’t for the life-changing question I’m planning on asking later and the sudden bout of indecision I’ve been plagued with.
Jess decided a couple of days ago that she wanted to make a full Christmas dinner, and so early in the afternoon, she and Alyssa head into the kitchen. Kennedy is on deadline and takes the time to get some words in.
I use this brief respite to hide out in the bedroom and reread the latest string of emails from my agent.
I was lucky to have my pick of agents when I was querying, and Stacy is the best. She’s ruthless and cutthroat, and always gives me a straight answer. A couple of days ago, I explained the whole situation, how I’m worried my success is going to get in the way of Jess’s chance, how I don’t want to be the one to take anything away from her. How much I would hate it if anyone were to suggest the only reason she got published was because of her connections to me.
And yeah, I threw in the part about me and my marketability too, just at the end, so she knows that’s not my main concern.
Her reply didn’t mince words, much as I expected. She confirmed Marcus’s observation, that being single could help me sell a ton more books, maybe even make me a household name. She didn’t seem as concerned with the whole me overshadowing Jess bit, probably because Jess isn’t her client so it doesn’t affect her much.
My eyes keep drifting back to the phrase “household name.” It’s honestly not something I ever really thought to want. How many writers end up being household names?
But Stacy thinks the potential is there for me, that I could be one of those select few.
My phone buzzes with a text, and I swipe out of my email.
Mom: Merry Christmas, sweetheart! Hope you’re having a great day and taking some time to enjoy the spoils of your success!
The message brings a smile to my face, even though I know it probably shouldn’t. Where was this support three years ago when I really needed it? I’m pretty sure I didn’t even get a text last Christmas.
Dad: Merry Christmas, son. Proud of you.
And yeah, Mom likely told him to send the message, but he sent it.
I toss my phone aside and cross the room to the dresser. The ring has been hidden in my underwear drawer for weeks, and when I take it out, the roiling in my stomach feels a lot more like dread than it does excitement.
I shove it back into the deepest corner of the drawer. Marrying Jess is the right thing. It has to be.
After attempting to read for a bit, even though my brain can’t focus on any of the words, I head toward the kitchen to see if I can offer assistance. Our kitchen isn’t big enough for more than two people, but I know I should at least offer to help.
I hold back in the hallway when I hear my name.
“Nick isn’t the kind of guy who’s going to let success go to his head.” Alyssa’s defense of my character is reassuring, even though I don’t know where the need for it came from.
“I know that.” Jess.
Has she been thinking the same kind of things I have been?
“I’m so happy for him, guys, truly,” she continues. “I know how hard he has worked for this moment, and he’s so talented, and so deserving.”
“But?” Kennedy pushes her to finish the thought, and I’m grateful she does, knowing I need to hear it.
“But it’s been really hard these past couple of weeks. Seeing every major publisher fight over his book. Seeing the kinds of things they’re promising him, the amount of money they’re willing to throw at him. They designed a whole marketing plan already, even before he signed his contract, basically promised him he’ll be a bestseller. And he deserves it all, truly.”
“We know that as well as you do. And having these kinds of thoughts doesn’t make you a bad or unsupportive girlfriend,” Alyssa says.
Some part of me has known how hard this must be for Jess, but she’s done nothing but smile and support me, and I hate myself for not bringing it up myself, for letting her stew in her feelings without me there to support her in turn.
“I don’t know if I can do it,” Jess says quietly. “I don’t know if I can go the whole rest of my career playing second fiddle. And I hate myself for that, for even entertaining the thought. I love him so much, but I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if I can be with him.”
Her voice breaks, and so does my heart.
It’s the final push I need. I know she won’t let herself end our relationship because of this—she’s too good of a person. But I can be the one to do it for her.
Even if it kills me.