Worst Christmas Ever Page 4

  Shawn scooted past and descended the stairs one creak at a time.

  Sara left Max’s side for the moment and walked across the spacious attic. “I don’t know what you think is wrong with that dress or those shoes, but I assure you I have done noth—”

  “Pray tell, what is this?” Her mother pointed to the closet floor.

  “Ohhhh.” The cake topper figurine. So not good. It lay in four pieces on a kitchen towel in her old closet. Sara Jane winced.

  Lexa turned to address her. “Did you think we wouldn’t notice it was missing? What was it this time? Did you trip over your own feet?”

  “Mom, I had no—”

  “You just did this because you want my wedding day to be ruined.” Lexa refused to stop speaking. “I didn’t want you as a bridesmaid anyway, but Mom said I had to. You ruin everything.

  Aunt Jenna crossed to the closet. “Sara Jane, can you fix it?” She spoke in a low tone.

  Sara Jane shrugged. She had repaired worse. “Sure, I—”

  “Do it.” Her mother gave an imperious command.

  Jenna stepped in front of her. “Sara Jane didn’t break this. It disappeared last night, before she got here. I had hoped it had just been put up out of the way. She and Max have been helping me look for it.”

  “Admit you broke it. You didn’t want me to succeed where you failed. Face it Sara Jane, you’re nothing but a loser.”

  “Alexa. That is enough.” Mom spoke up.

  “It sure is.” Max had had enough. He got up and walked to stand at Sara Jane’s side, ignoring the throb on the top of his head. “Your sister is hardly a failure. She has her own business. She’s won multiple awards and is highly sought after for her work. She’s not a good designer, she’s an excellent designer. And as far as you succeeding where she failed. She didn’t fail. The only one who thinks like that is you.”

  “Max.” Sara Jane put her hand on his arm. “It’s OK.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  Alexa gave him one stony glare but didn’t open her mouth again. She, instead, took the opportunity to slink out like a dog with its tail firmly between its legs.

  Actually, there were a lot of words he could think to describe her at the moment, but those were the kindest. Ever since he’d known the Connelly family, Alexa had tended to have “spells” of totally brattiness. And when she was in said brat mode she took all her frustration, no matter how large or small, out on Sara Jane.

  “Alexa didn’t mean that.” Their mom tried to make amends. “You know she was insistent that you were an attendant.”

  “You don’t owe her a thing, Sara Jane. I think we should leave.”

  “No, Max.” Augusta put a hand on his shoulder. “You and my level-headed daughter will stay here and go to the wedding with the rest of this crazy crew. If I have to go, you do too. Got it?”

  He must have looked really irritable because Augusta patted his back as if he were Sam’s age, and peered up at him.

  “She’s having pre-wedding jitters. Ignore her.”

  “Max,”—Sara Jane took his hand—“please stay.”

  How could he deny Sara Jane anything? He took her hand and squeezed. She returned the sentiment and didn’t let go.

  A knock interrupted the solemn silence and Sam approached, his head down. “I did it. I broke the thing that goes on the cake.”

  “Oh, Sam, why didn’t you tell us?” Jenna asked.

  “I didn’t want to get into trouble.” He still didn’t look up. “It was on the kitchen counter across from the refrigerator. I got some pizza out and the box hit the statue, and it fell in the floor. I was going to fix it. I’ve been looking for glue everywhere. I figured nobody would be up here, and you’d just get another one if you couldn’t find that old one.”

  “Oh, Sam.” Augusta sighed the words. “Next time, don’t be afraid to tell us. Mistakes happen.”

  “But that’s not what people say about Sara Jane. I heard people laughing at her.”

  “Who?” Max growled the words.

  “Max, you have every right to be angry and Sara Jane, you do, too. I don’t like these people either. They’re shallow. And the nerve of Brad coming to this wedding. I did draw the line at that man coming into my home. I’ll go talk to Lexa, and all will be right as rain.” Augusta managed something of a smile.

  Max waited until everyone but Sara Jane left the attic. He touched her shoulders and turned her to face him.

  Her blue eyes seemed to reflect worry as she gazed at him. “I’m sorry about Alexa.”

  He pulled her close to his chest. “I’ve known Alexa as long as I’ve known you, so I know how she is. While she’s all hot air, I will not let her treat you like that. I have a few Alexas in my family as well. You know my brother, Jude, lives in a teepee. He’s building a tiny house, but he’s living in a teepee. And Dix, don’t even get me started about him.”

  “I’ve seen that teepee. It’s kind of nice.” She seemed to snuggle just a little before she pushed away. “Hey, take off that shirt, and I’ll throw it in the wash.”

  “What?” Max frowned.

  “You have blood on your shirt. We need to get it out before it sets in. Blood’s not such a good look at a wedding. I’ll put it in the washing machine on quick wash. I am assuming it won’t shrink so much you get stuck in it.”

  “No,” he replied as he admired the sparkle in her eyes. “Here, you get started on the bride and groom thing, and I’ll put this in the washer and get a shower to get the blood out of my hair.”

  Nearly a half hour later Max emerged from Sara Jane’s old private bathroom to find her bent over the bride and groom with a fine-tipped brush. He approached quietly and leaned over her shoulder. “That’s really great work.” Had it actually been broken?

  “Thank you. I’m just finishing up the mustache and beard…on the bride. I considered adding horns and a pitchfork but that may be over the top.”

  He held up a forefinger and thumb. “Just a tiny bit.” Max returned to the futon. “I forgot what a wonderful artist you are.”

  He observed her progress as he pulled his shoes. She was meticulous. Sara Jane gave a swipe and then leaned back, evaluated, and gave another tiny brush stroke. After repeating the process several times, she placed the figurine on the dresser.

  “Finished. I’m going to let it dry just a bit, and then I’ll do the big reveal.”

  “This is so unlike you, no granite anywhere.”

  “I considered it, but I worried that granite would make this sink through the cake like a descending elevator. So while it was an idea, I have decided that today I shall play the part of ‘good sister’ and not do that. By the way, I also avoided the very, very huge temptation to switch the heads.”

  “You have been a very kind sister today.”

  “Warm shirt straight from the dryer!” Jenna, wonderful Jenna, entered the attic room. “Whoa.” She stopped. “I didn’t realize you didn’t have a shirt on.”

  Sara Jane held up the finished piece of artwork. “What do you think?”

  “Sara Jane.” Jenna’s voice was wispy, and she put her hand on her throat. “Your grandparents would be so happy. When we used it, the groom’s hair had worn off. Brendan didn’t like it because the groom looked like Friar Tuck. What you’ve done is nothing short of a Christmas miracle.”

  Sara Jane did a little eye roll “Oh, go on.” With obviously mock modesty she brushed off the compliment with a wave of her hand.

  “Too bad it didn’t break before our wedding.” Jenna whispered. “I can’t believe Riley agreed to use the ugly thing. I seem to remember Brad said something to the effect of ‘over my dead body.’ Too bad you didn’t take him up on it. But then that’s all water under the bridge, and may I just say, Max, you are so much better for Sara Jane than Brad ever was. You two have something special. I can see it when I look at you two. And I just want y’all to know I’m ready for some more babies in our family. Hint. Hint.”

  Sara Jane’s face w
as scarlet, and Max wanted to throttle Jenna. One more thing to pray about.

  “Can I take this?” Jenna held it up to examine it once more.

  Max pressed his lips together and tried not to laugh at the still-mortified expression on Sara Jane’s face. It was the same expression she’d had the night he’d cut her out of the wedding dress.

  5

  “Please…take it.” Sara Jane barely found the words to speak. Why had Jenna said that? Could her family possibly embarrass her more? If Max had his shirt on, he may have just run far and fast to get away from this insanity. She and Max were partners, friends, and yes, she loved him more than she thought possible, but what in the world made Aunt Jenna mention marriage and children?

  Jenna turned wide-eyed to Max and his bulging biceps once more. Well, Sara Jane didn’t know if Jenna had noticed his biceps or not, but if she hadn’t, Jenna was just blind.

  “See you at the wedding.” Jenna walked backwards holding the repaired topper. She stumbled a little, causing Sara Jane to have a minor feeling of panic, but her aunt didn’t destroy the fragile porcelain. The only destruction was that of any future with Max.

  In the wake of Jenna’s departure, Sara Jane tried to read the expression on Max’s face. Irritation? Anger? He raised his brows, gave a smile, and stood with his shirt in hand.

  “Sorry for Jenna, too. She speaks before she thinks, sometimes.” Sara Jane was trying not to look at his shirtless form, and in doing so was looking more.

  Roofing houses in the summer was hot work, and she’d often seen Max as he lovingly built a new structure or restored an older one to its former glory. The work certainly had produced muscles. She’d just never found herself particularly affected by them until recently.

  He was, after all, just Max. Her friend. Her kind, attentive, strong and loyal, intelligent and talented, friend…who was also tanned and toned.

  He finally shrugged on the shirt. “What do you think—

  Even his stomach was muscled. She looked away.

  “—tie?”

  What had he said? “It’s fine.”

  “To wear it or not?” He waited. Then, he dropped his chin and raised just one brow. “Sara Jane, are you blushing?”

  “No.” She nodded. “Of course I am. I’m not supposed to be here with you and your…unshirted-ness.” She turned her back to him.

  “When have you ever noticed? And is the word you’re looking for ‘shirtlessness’?”

  “Yes. That’s the word.” She paced barefoot.

  “Hey, it’s OK. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’ve seen a bare chest before. You’ve been to the pool, right?”

  “I could have been in Greece buying stuff in Syntagma Square. Basking in the shadow of the Parthenon. Marveling at the architectural wonders. I’m sure that I would have found a lovely mini Corinthian column. You know I want to use one for a glass-topped coffee table. But no. I’m here getting ready for my sister’s crummy wedding. I thought my holidays couldn’t get worse, but this one has been just a delightful hodgepodge of humiliation and embarrassment. The only good thing about this Christmas has been…”

  “The mistletoe, admit it.” He stepped closer and wrapped his arms around her.

  Sara Jane brushed his curling hair from his eyes. He needed to shave…but when didn’t he? He leaned his head down. No, he wasn’t really going to—he kissed her again and she kissed him back (again).

  Then, when he pulled away, he gave her that wicked little grin of his. “So you like me without a shirt on?”

  Her tingling lips parted. She took two steps back and picked up her discarded, spike-heeled wedding shoe and threw it his way.

  “Ha! Missed,” he ducked out of the way, laughing hard.

  The shoe sailed past him and into her bridesmaid dress hanging on the closet door. The heel tangled in the tulle tutu and ripped all the way down as gravity pulled the shoe toward the floor.

  Sara Jane threw back her head, closed her eyes and groaned. “I really didn’t throw it that hard, but I have two words. It figures.”

  “Oh, man.” Max sighed as he examined the damage. “I’m sorry. I was just playing around.”

  Thirty minutes to be at the church and she’d just ruined her dress. “I always assumed stiletto was just a figure of speech and the heels actually weren’t able to cause that sort of carnage.”

  Max pulled the dress from the closest. His shoulders were shaking.

  “You’re laughing.”

  “Yes, who else could be so talented?”

  “I killed my dress.”

  “Come on Sara Jane. You didn’t kill it. You put it out of its misery.”

  “Do you have your pocketknife?”

  “Always. But this requires more than a pocketknife.”

  ****

  What Max needed was scissors. He ran down the stairs hoping to find Jenna, instead he ran into Augusta.

  “Maxwell, a moment.”

  “Mrs. Connelly, I—”

  “I’m not accepting ‘no’ for an answer.”

  Max walked over. He knew his expression was readable. “I really didn’t have time right now.”

  “This won’t take long. My daughters are very different, Max. Alexa is a lot like me. She needs someone to care for her. Sara Jane never has. She is a care giver. When Brad broke their engagement she was hurt and embarrassed, but not heartbroken. He was a mistake, but how do you tell that to a twenty-three-year-old?” She paused.

  Was that rhetorical? He wasn’t certain. “I don’t know.” He decided that an answer was required.

  “I didn’t know, either. I have realized that sometimes as a parent, you just don’t know. I did realize something however. You are a hothead, but only where Sara Jane is concerned, and you are a giver. Sara Jane needs you. I wanted you to know I approve of you and Sara Jane.”

  “OK.”

  “Is that it? OK?” Augusta crossed her arms.

  “Thank you? Do you have any scissors?”

  ****

  The wedding ceremony was over and done. Her sister was now married, and Lexa seemed to glow as she greeted the guests in the reception line. Sara Jane hated greeting the endless line people. She’d shaken a thousand hands, and her cheeks hurt from smiling.

  “You look beautiful, Sara Jane.” Brad Myers shook her hand. “I see you’re with Max. Like I didn’t see that coming.”

  Sara Jane just gave smile one thousand and one. She and Max weren’t exactly together, but she wouldn’t correct her ex on that fine point. “Thank you, Brad. Your wife is lovely.”

  He could let go of her hand now.

  “I hear you’re doing well. Your business is booming. Guess what, we’re expecting in July.”

  Even though she felt a little awkward standing there staring with the man she’d intended to spend the rest of her life discussing his soon-to-be fatherhood, Sara Jane didn’t feel sad or sorry for herself. As she looked at Brad she knew in her heart that while it had been painful, he had made the right decision the day he’d called off their engagement.

  Because after that, she’d started living her own life and really being her own person…an extended handshake was one thing, but this guy was holding on for dear life.

  She wasn’t ready to thank him for being publically humiliated, but she could wholeheartedly wish both Brad and Mira well. “Congrats.” She warmly shook his hand once more and gave a tiny tug.

  “Sara Jane, need a drink?” Max offered her what looked to be ginger ale, and Brad released her hand as Max placed his arm around her waist.

  Max had her back. Always.

  “Thanks.”

  “Hey, Max, good to see you, man. You two look great together. Take good care of her,” Brad said.

  By the controlled smirk on his face, she could tell a thousand acerbic retorts dangled on the tip of Max’s tongue. She waited for his response.

  “I always do.” He turned away from Brad and looked her straight in the eye. “The bride and groom are dancing, Sara Jane. Wo
uld you care to join them?”

  “Please.” Thankful for the viable escape from the reception line, Sara Jane took Max’s hand and let him lead her to the dance floor where, two by two, couples joined the newly married pair. The moderate tempo of the music gave them an opportunity for a semi-slow dance, although the ridiculously full skirt of the okra monstrosity draped over her body acted as a good chastity barrier. No balloons between them needed.

  “You OK?” Max asked as he attempted to pull her closer. She moved as close as the fluff allowed, and she stepped in time with the music.

  Sara Jane gave a quick nod. “Actually, I am. Better than OK, even. Brad would’ve been a lifelong mistake. I know that now. God has someone better for me.” A sudden image of her and Max standing in front of a pastor made heat roll across her cheeks. Her steps faltered.

  Max steadied her and yanked his foot from beneath her toes. “Whoa!”

  The heat slinked to her scalp. “Sorry.”

  He grinned. “It’s OK. I walk on them, too. At least it wasn’t my head this time.”

  “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” she said, breathless and mentally frazzled.

  “It’s me,” he said. “Being in my arms is overwhelming you.”

  That grin appeared again, but Sara Jane couldn’t think of a retort. Was he a mind-reader?

  “You don’t have to look so mortified, Sara Jane.” He swung her away and then reeled her back in. “Way to kill a guy’s ego.”

  He was kidding. Maybe that’s what embarrassed her more than her errant thoughts. That kiss under the mistletoe had turned her heart to—to…she didn’t know how to describe it. Max was her friend, her rock, but something more. Significant. She felt it with every ounce of her, and while she thought—hoped—he felt it too, she was unsure. He’d confessed to having wanted to kiss her for a long time, but a kiss was just a kiss. She sighed. Wanting a kiss wasn’t the same as wanting to walk down the aisle. Had she just ruined their perfectly good friendship for a weekend flirtation?

  She shook her head to clear it, and looked at Max. “I’m sorry. I have to get some air.”

  Before he could protest, she pulled her hand from his and turned and ran out the door—literally.