Michael_A Scrooged Christmas by F. G. Adams

Author:F. G. Adams [Adams, F. G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Author F.G. Adams, LLC
Published: 2017-12-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 7

“There are three stages of a man’s life: He believes in Santa Claus, he doesn’t believe in Santa Claus, he is Santa Claus.” ~ Michael Barnes

“You want me to do what?” I peer at the gorgeous imp standing in front of me for the second time. One delicate hand is fisted on her tiny hip, while the other is offering me a totally offensive-to-my-ego costume.

“Put on the suit, Michael. It’s simple. Or are you chicken?” she challenges, flapping her arms, grinning from ear to ear. A carefree spirit spreading her happiness.

“Oh no, you didn’t.”

“Yep. I totally did.”

Holly’s made it her mission in the interim of her holiday break from teaching to remind me of the true meaning of Christmas, and little by little, my resolve is weakening. Truth be told, I miss enjoying the festivities of the season. When I decided to block out all emotions and feelings tied to Ella, including O Come All Ye Faithful, candy canes, and shit, at the time, it seemed like a good idea. But after visiting the National Christmas Tree decorated, an iconic symbol of goodwill and peace to all, sharing it with Holly, I have to admit that I may have gone too far in attempting to eradicate the loneliness and ache Ella’s betrayal and departure with Grayson left me with.

It’s just that the nagging pain and empty loss overshadowed everything else. Enough so, I didn’t want to celebrate anything ever again. There wasn’t a point. But now, I’m reevaluating my position—because of Holly.

Then, when she asked me to make a wish… Not going to go there right now. I can’t deal with the consequences of being denied for a second time.

My desire is growing for Holly, an unfurling need I thought I’d lost forever. It’s present each time we’re together, plummeting deep into my parched, shriveled-up soul, connecting us deeper. Her gentle persistence and cute quirkiness call to my over-organized, very strict moral code. My wish for new beginnings, just like she said a few nights earlier, starts with her.

“Michael? Hello? Knock. Knock. Are you listening to me? We have to get a move on for the next special Christmas time escapade I wish to share with you. Please, just put the suit on. What’s it gonna hurt?”

Damn it. Her fleeting plea shakes me up, and I just can’t resist. Amusement intermixed with contentment washing over me, I reply, “Just promise me one thing, Holly.”

Immediately she replies, “Name it. Anything.”

“Promise me that after the end of this journey you’re taking me on today, I’ll get some kind of reward.” Arching my eyebrow and smiling my best come-and-get-me-baby grin, I aim for seduction. “I mean, the National Christmas Tree was pretty amazing the other night. Thank you for taking me.” I brush feather-light wisps against her check with my fingers. “But what are you going to do for me if I do this?” I hold up the red suit she’s expecting me to wear, looking it over. I’m not sure what the end game is, and let’s just say I’m skeptical.

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