“But you own your business,” she pointed out.
“Very true,” I replied. “That is exactly the argument I’ve had ten times over. But with my father being a conglomerate owner, he doesn’t really consider a business actually a business until you’ve made your first million. Something I will probably never see.”
“Well, money isn’t everything,” she said, smiling.
“How about you?” I asked, sipping my beer. “Besides the whole, ex-douche bag thing, why aren’t you with family?”
“Well, I had thought I was spending Christmas at his boss’s house, so my family went away to the islands,” she replied. “They figured if there wasn’t anyone to celebrate with, why not take in the sun and sand?”
“They sound like brilliant people.” I laughed. “But seriously, their loss, our gain.”
“Why, thank you,” she said, smiling. “However, I did come down here to see if you wanted to come spend Christmas with Hailey and me. We actually were just getting ready to open presents and send down for a yummy, room service lunch. I believe I saw that Santa may have left you something under the tree. Besides, there is enough whiskey for three Christmases in our room. And the bartender is more than welcome when his shift is over. I’m pretty sure he’s met Hailey.”
I looked over at the bartender, who smiled and looked down, nodding his head yes. I thought about it for a second, but looking at Bea’s big, beautiful eyes folded me immediately. How could I ever say no to that face?
“Yes, I would love to,” I said.
We finished our drinks, and I made Brian, the bartender, promise us to come up in a couple of hours when his shift ended. When I got upstairs, Hailey greeted me with some red confetti and a glass of whiskey on the rocks. We sat around, opening silly gifts, wearing Santa hats, and watching the worst Christmas movies we could possibly find. This had actually turned out to be one of the best Christmases that I had ever had. Even more than that, it was the first time I cared about the people and the holiday. As the sun went down behind the mountain, and Brian joined us from downstairs, I sat back, watching the girls singing Christmas carols, swaying back and forth with their drinks, and decided that maybe I was missing out on something, being all alone all the time. Maybe, just maybe, Bea was worth keeping around.
Chapter 16
Bea
That had been the best Christmas I’d ever had. We laughed, we danced, we drank, and we cuddled in front of the fire, listening to Brian the bartender read us old Christmas stories from a book he brought with him. It was one of those nights that you hoped would last forever, and that you would probably try to recreate in the future, but never fully be able to catch the exact light that the original had. There were many things in my life that I was thankful for, from my job, to my ability to keep moving in tough situations, but this was the first time that I felt truly thankful for a group of people. Hailey had been my guardian angel, pulling me out of my house and forcing me to open myself up to new experiences. She had stood by the whole time, knowing that Grant was bad for me, voicing it when she could, but knowing that it didn’t matter how hard she pushed me. I wouldn’t see it until I was ready to see it. Her love for me was beyond friendship, and I truly thought of her as my sister.
Cameron had come up to celebrate with us, and although I was nervous about it at first, he opened right up and was just as goofy as Hailey and me. He laughed, danced, and made a fool of himself, singing “I Saw Momma Kissing Santa Claus” with Brian in the middle of the suite floor. Hailey and I could not stop laughing, and I found it to be more than adorable.
When I first decided to ask him to come up and celebrate with us, I was nervous at what he would say. So, to calm those nerves and make sure he couldn’t say no, Hailey put me in one of her 1940s-inspired holiday dresses, curled my hair, and did my makeup. I was impressed and told her maybe investments weren’t her true calling. When I got downstairs, the look on his face was priceless. In the end, it worked out perfectly, and he didn’t even hesitate, making this Christmas unforgettable.
At the end of the night, or really early this morning, Brian was passed out on the couch, Hailey was passed out in her bed, and I didn’t even remember how I got into my bed. I did remember, though, that Cameron was a gentleman and had kissed my hand and stumbled out to go to his room to sleep. I was still laying in the bed, staring at the sunshine illuminating the snow outside my window, when a loud knock to the do
or shook my head.
“Hold on,” I said in a whisper, stumbling to find my robe.
I stumbled around my bedroom, my head pounding from the insane amount of wine and whiskey that I had consumed the night before. I grabbed the robe out of my bathroom and put it on, tying it tightly around me and looking in the mirror at the mess of curls and smeared makeup. My eyes got big, and I took a wash cloth and quickly dipped it in the water, rubbing my face and pulling my hair into a messy ponytail. I looked like a hungover Christmas Medusa. Finally, I just gave up, figuring whoever it was, they were going to get quite the eyeful when I opened the door.
I walked into the living room, looking over at the couch and giggling at Brian who was sprawled out, half hanging on the couch, the other half on the floor. I tripped over an empty wine bottle and grabbed my foot, hopping forward and grabbing the door handle. I cracked the door and peered out, thankfully seeing Cameron on the other side. I opened the door and grabbed him by the shirt, yanking him inside and closing the door behind us. I leaned back and closed my eyes, trying to stop the room from spinning, but smiling just the same.
“Well, you look well this morning.” He laughed.
“Shh, stop yelling,” I said, holding my temples and pulling myself up and into my bedroom.
“I figured I would find you like this,” he said, quietly shutting the bedroom door. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen a girl drink that much whiskey.”
“I don’t think anyone ever has,” I replied, sitting down and looking up at him.
“Well, here,” he said, holding out a paper bag.
“I hope there isn’t whiskey in here,” I said, taking it from him. “That old wives’ tale of curing a hangover with more alcohol doesn’t actually work. I know. I went to college.”
“No.” He laughed. “That is a bacon, egg, and cheese bagel, some Tylenol, and a bottle of water. It’s a hangover cure in a bag.”
“You are a saint,” I said, opening the bag and dumping it out on the bed.
“I need you to be mobile,” he replied. “It’s time for that personal ski day.”
“Do they make wheel chairs with skis?”