Chapter Nine

Mark

I t’s snowing.

Charles loved the snow. He used to keep the windows and doors wide open just to watch it fall. But I can’t fucking stand it.

The cold seeps into my bones as I stand by the window, arms crossed tightly against my chest, watching as Murray rolls around in the fresh snow, wagging his tail. I can’t help but feel my lips lift a little seeing how happy he is, but then the cold hits my skin again, and I’ve had enough.

“Okay, time to come inside,” I tell him. He stops rolling in the snow, trotting inside as I push the door wider to let him in. The moment he’s inside, he shakes vigorously, sending snow flying in every direction, covering the floor.

Good thing the bar is closed today. I shake my head as I close the door, locking it before I head upstairs, the stairs creaking under my feet, a sound I’ve gotten familiar with over the years as Murray follows behind me.

I knock a couple of times on Mia’s door, then push it open. Murray sniffs the floor, his nose following an invisible trail, while I step into the living room. Mia is on the couch, wrapped in a thick blanket, watching some old Christmas movie on TV.

“Hey. Are you hungry?” I ask her.

She glances up at me, offering me a small smile, one that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, I’m fine,” she says, but my jaw tightens. She’s lost weight. Her cheekbones are more pronounced than they used to be.

She hasn’t been eating much lately, and I can’t stand to see her like this. “I’ll make some soup,” I say, heading toward the kitchen without waiting for her reply. I open the fridge, my eyes flicking to the discolored magnets she’s had forever.

“Don’t worry about me,” she says. “What about the bar? Aren’t you opening up today?”

My footsteps halt, my heart aching as I keep my eyes on the fridge, and I shake my head. “No. Not today.”

“Why not?” she asks.

My stomach drops, and I wince inwardly. She doesn’t remember . “Just didn’t feel like it,” I reply, trying to keep my voice steady. I open the fridge and pull out some vegetables and a half-full carton of broth in the back. I start chopping the vegetables, trying to keep my mind occupied

She sighs, making me look over my shoulder at her, seeing her looking around her apartment. “You know, it’s almost Christmas,” she points out softly, her voice carrying a sadness that’s too deep for me to address right now .

“I know,” I murmur, barely loud enough for her to hear as I turn back around and drop the vegetables into a pot and turn on the stove.

“Charles loved decorating the bar for Christmas.” I stop what I’m doing and look over my shoulder at her, a frown tugging at my lips.

Loved . She said loved. She knows he’s gone.

But she doesn’t remember what day it is today.

“I like keeping it simple,” I tell her, though the memory of the bar covered in decorations flashes in my mind. Every year, Charles would string up lights and deck the place out. The jukebox would play Christmas songs all day long. That feels like a lifetime ago now.

She lets out another sigh, sinking deeper into the couch and pulling the blanket tighter around herself. “I sure do miss decorating the place with Charles.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “Are you trying to make me feel guilty?”

She lifts her head, meeting my gaze with a sparkle in her eye. “Is it working?”

“No,” I lie. What is it with the women in my life thinking they can bend me to their will… and why are they right?

“A little mistletoe never hurt anyone,” she says with a smile. “You never know who might walk underneath it.”

I let out a breath, leaning against the counter as the water in the pot begins to heat. She never gave up on the idea of me settling down and getting married. After Sasha, she always held out hope that I’d find someone again, and when I didn’t, it made her a little sad. But the truth is, I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want to go through the pain of losing someone again. I’d rather keep to myself, even if it means being alone.

And seeing how hard dating is for Holly, I’m kind of glad I’m not in the middle of it all. It looks like hell.

“I don’t think the usual guys who come here would love the idea of kissing each other,” I tell her, trying to change the subject.

She waves me off dismissively. “You never know. There might be a cute girl who’s lost and wants a drink.”

My mind immediately flicks to Holly. “I doubt that,” I say instead because if Mia knew there’d been a girl near me, she’d jump at the opportunity to play matchmaker.

“I met Charles at this bar, you know,” she says.

I arch a brow, surprised. “He told me you two met in college.”

“We did, but I first saw him here,” she says. “My friends and I came to have a drink one night, and Charles was here. He was hanging out with his friends, laughing, drinking, and I thought he was the cutest guy ever.”

My chest warms, and I feel my lips twitch. “Charles? Cute?” I raise a brow, teasing her a little. “Seriously?”

She tuts, a small smile on her lips. “He was a hottie in those days,” she says, a twinkle in her eye. “You remind me so much of him.”

I blink, taken aback. “I do?”

She nods, her expression softening as she looks at me with a hint of sadness. “Brown hair, kind eyes, grumpy.”

“Grumpy?” I ask, surprised. “Charles was not grumpy. ”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “Oh, he was, until he met me.”

I raise my eyebrows, genuinely surprised. I knew the man for over a decade, and I never saw a frown on his face, never heard him complain about anything. He was the epitome of joy, always smiling, and always making others feel at ease.

“Some people can change a person,” she says, her eyes softening as the memories course through her. “And I changed him.”

I like the sound of that. It makes me wonder if someone could change me, too. If I’d even let them.

She blinks up at me, a flicker of confusion crossing her features. “Do you know when he’s coming back?” she asks.

My smile slips, and I swallow hard, my chest tightening with the weight of her question. “Soon,” I whisper, turning back to the stove. Can’t look at her when I lie to her. “Soon, Mia.”

“This is your last one,” I tell Murray firmly, holding a treat up, waiting for him to sit before tossing it in his direction. He catches it mid-air, his jaw snapping shut with a crunch before he sits down again, waiting for another.

“You’re relentless, you know that?” I say, handing him another treat. He chomps down on it, his tail wagging slightly, and I force the box closed before he can gilt-trip me into feeding him the whole damn thing .

Dropping down on the couch, I flick through the channels, trying to find something—anything—to take my mind off this shitty day. But nothing holds my attention. Murray jumps up beside me and lies down, resting his head on my lap as I stroke his fur.

“I miss him too, buddy,” I murmur, the words barely a whisper as they catch in my throat.

God. Today sucks. I just want to go to bed and forget this day, forget the sadness, forget everything. But when my phone rings, my eyes flutter closed. I can’t do that.

I glance at the screen, see Holly’s name flashing, and my brows knit together. She’s supposed to be on a date with Daniel right now. What’s going on?

I press the button and bring the phone to my ear, but before I can say a word, her voice comes through. “Where are you?”

“Why?” I ask, my concern growing.

“I’m at the bar, and you’re not here,” she snaps, making my brows rise. I’ve never heard her sound like this before.

“Are you okay?” I ask, sitting up straighter.

“I’m fine, I just… ugh, where are you?” she asks again.

“I’m upstairs,” I reply, confused. “Why are you at the bar?”

“Upstairs?” Her voice softens slightly. “You live upstairs?”

“Yes.”

“Why isn’t the bar open?” she asks.

The muscles in my jaw tighten. “Just isn’t,” I say, not wanting to get into the details .

“Can I come up?” she asks.

I sigh, rubbing my face with my free hand. “Will you leave if I say no?”

“No,” she admits, and I can hear the faint smile in her voice.

“Then sure, come on up,” I say, giving in. “The key’s under the mat.”

“You’re telling me where the key is?” she asks slowly. “What if I rob the place?”

“Will you?” I counter, my brow lifting, knowing she couldn’t be capable of hurting a fly, never mind robbing a bar.

“No,” she admits.

“Then come upstairs, Bambi,” I reply, hanging up the phone.

I blow out a breath as I stand, putting the beer I was nursing back in the fridge and rub my face, trying to shake off the weariness that’s been clinging to me all day. It’s a good thing Mia doesn’t remember much, or else she’d be a wreck today.

“Behave,” I tell Murray when a knock hits the door, and he starts to bark.

I make my way to the door, swinging the door open, and I’m met with the sight of Holly standing there, her eyes narrowed and slightly puffy.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, my voice soft, concerned.

“You’re horrible at this,” she says, brushing past me into the apartment.

“At opening the door?” I ask, closing it behind her.

“At setting me up on dates,” she snaps, throwing herself onto the couch, looking utterly defeated .

Fuck.

Murray jumps up beside her, and she lets out a yelp. He pants, his tail wagging as he stares up at her, and I pinch my nose.

“Murray. I told you to behave,” I tell him, but the dog doesn’t pay attention to me, completely enraptured by Holly. “Get down from there. You’re scaring her.”

“No, don’t,” she says, her hand resting against his golden fur. Her lips tip up into a smile. “I was just a little shocked, that’s all.” She smiles down at him. “Hi, buddy.”

I watch Holly play with my dog, rubbing his chin as she baby-talks to him.

She laughs when he licks her face and then glances at me, wiping the slobber Murray left on her cheek. “You have a dog,” she says, a little surprised.

“Yeah.”

She eyes me, her lips twitching. “His name is Murray?”

I nod, my brows dipping, wondering why she’s acting like that.

She lets out a chuckle. “As in… Murray Christmas?”

My face drops. “I’m changing his name immediately.”

She tips her head back, laughing, and my chest warms. It’s such a difference from when she walked in here that I’m reminded of the fact that she left her date early.

“What did Daniel do?” I ask her, dropping down on the couch beside her .

She sighs, her hand coming to a stop playing with Murray’s fur, and she shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. I don’t even care anymore. This little guy made it all go away,” she says as she scratches Murray’s head.

My frown deepens. “Tell me.”

She closes her eyes for a second. “It was awful,” she admits, her shoulders slumping. “I was trying hard to be funny and just be myself like you told me to, but he was giving me nothing. He completely disregarded me the whole time, and then…” She looks up at me, pressing her lips together as if to stop her from saying anything else.

“What?” I ask, my voice hardening.

“I don’t want to say.”

“Why not?” My voice drops, and my chest pounds harder with each second.

“He’s your friend. And he works for you.”

“Not if he hurt you,” I tell her, already picturing firing his ass. If he hurt her—

She shakes her head slightly. “He didn’t hurt me, he just…” She sighs. “It’s stupid.”

“I don’t care,” I say. “Tell me anyway.”

She chews on her bottom lip for a few seconds. “He checked out a girl’s ass right in front of me.”

Again? What is it with these assholes being able to look at anyone else when she’s right there?

“Is my ass not good enough?”

Jesus.

“I mean, I squat,” she says with a huff. “Not often, but I do. I even do those donkey kicks and everything. Is my ass that bad? ”

Is she seriously asking me this question right now? I swallow hard, my throat tight. “I don’t know. I’ve never looked.”

Liar.

I tell my brain to shut up, wanting to keep those thoughts buried deep. Now is not the fucking time.

“Oh great,” she mutters, slumping back against the couch. “It’s not even good enough to look at.”

I breathe out a sigh, pinching my nose. “You’re not going to make me say it, are you?”

She furrows her brows, glancing at me with confusion. “Say what?”

“Sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” I tell her, noting the way her eyebrows lift in surprise. I can’t lie and say I’ve never looked at her. She’s a beautiful girl, of course I have. “You have a great body, ass included, a beautiful face, and any guy should be willing to kill to be with you.”

The silence between us stretches, and for a second, I’m worried I’ve crossed a boundary, but then a smile curls her lips. “Wow,” she says with a light scoff. “Mark has a crush on me.”

“I do not,” I say with a glare.

“Don’t lie,” she teases. “You just confessed your love for me.”

“I did no such thing,” I grumble, looking away. I don’t want her to get the wrong impression. Yes, she’s beautiful, but I can’t be what she wants. I run my hand through my hair. “Holly, I don’t—”

“Don’t worry. I know you were just being nice,” she says, cutting me off with a smile. “I know you’re not interested in me.”

I’m not?

The fuck was that? I shake the thought away, watching as she glances around my apartment. “So… this is your place?” she asks, as if suddenly remembering she’s never been here before. Granted, I forgot, too. Holly has a way of making it seem like she belongs in a place, no matter where it is.

“Yeah,” I say, watching her closely as she looks around.

“It’s empty,” she remarks, her brow furrowing slightly.

My brow lifts. “And you’re sitting on air?” I reply.

She shakes her head, a heavy sigh leaving her lips. “Sure, you have basic furniture, but where are the decorations?” she asks. “Not a plant in sight, or a bookshelf, or a coffee table to put your knick-knacks.”

I blink at her. “I don’t have knick-knacks, or books for the matter, and who the hell wants a plant to take care of, anyway? They’re just more work.”

Holly sighs, closing her eyes in despair. “You poor creature,” she mutters, glancing down at Murray, who pants up at her. “You’re living in a house of torture. Not even a bauble or tinsel in sight,” she says with a shake of her head.

I give her a dry look, unimpressed with her dramatics. “I bet you’ve already decorated your whole house by now,” I say, imagining the sight. I have no doubt she’d be one of the people who love colored lights instead of the warm white ones.

She shakes her head, her brows pulling together. “Olivia does all the decorating since it’s her place,” she explains. “She also does all of the holiday baking since she’s a chef and a very good one at that.” The corner of her lips drops slightly. “I haven’t baked in such a long time,” she admits quietly. “I miss it.”

My own face drops, feeling a hint of sadness for her, but then she lifts her head, her eyes sparkling as she bats her eyelashes. I already know what she’s going to ask before she even opens her mouth.

“No,” I say firmly.

“Please?” she asks, her voice soft, pleading, and fuck, why the hell am I thinking about it?

“No,” I repeat again, shaking my head. “I don’t partake in Christmas traditions.”

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t be a Grinch. It’s just a few cookies. I promise I won’t ever ask you for anything else ever again.”

I give her a dry look. “That’s a lie.”

She lets out a breath. “Okay, fine, it is, but come on,” she pleads, leaning closer to me. “I promise you’ll love them.”

I try to avoid her eyes, not wanting to get sucked into them, but when I turn my head and see the expression on my face, it caves my chest in. Jesus fuck. What is it about this girl that gets me to do anything she wants?

Her face breaks out into a grin as she leans in. Everything happens so fast that I don’t even get the chance to acknowledge that she just pressed her lips to my cheek until she hops off the couch. “I’ll get the ingredients ready,” she says, heading toward my kitchen before I can even say anything.

I still feel the burn of her lips against my face, and I glance down at Murray, letting out a low groan. “I don’t know what I did to deserve this,” I mutter before following her into the kitchen.