Holiday Tides (Wilks Beach Holiday Novella)

17. Nick

seventeen

Nick

“ I f it isn’t great Saint Nick.” I slap the back of Aldon’s Santa suit, turning him slightly to see Summer among the crowd of people milling through his bayside home. “Santa, this is Summer—your biggest fan. Summer, Santa.”

My gorgeous date— friend , we’re just friends and this is not a date—bites her lip to keep from bursting into laughter. It used to be one of my favorite expressions, when one of my jokes would land, but Summer couldn’t give me the satisfaction of seeing her mirth. This time, she’s holding back giggles because Aldon looks like he’s two seconds from setting a saw blade to my neck.

“Nice to meet you,” she tells him.

I expect my brother to grunt like the half-primate he is, but he stoically extends a hand instead.

Once Summer and Jane are introduced and start chatting, I lower my voice. “If I knew we could deviate from the classy cocktail attire dress code, I would have joined you in wearing a jolly red suit.”

Normally, Aldon wears all black but manages to look less cater waiter and more mafia boss. Since he banned my head-to-toe plaid suit last year, I went for a subtler look tonight—evergreen slacks, white collared shirt with a burgundy tie, and a light-gray sweater layered over it.

“When your wife wakes up crying the morning before your annual Christmas party that she insists you host every year, even though you’d rather shove a screwdriver into your eye socket, you offer to wear something to match what she’ll be comfortable in.” The way his pinched expression melts into an affectionate gaze when he glances at Jane makes my mouth curl. “We just had a baby. She shouldn’t fit into her old clothes yet. But reassuring her didn’t work, so I suggested this.”

Jane’s Mrs. Claus dress is loose and flowy with cozy white slippers beneath it. Perfect for the new-mom-turned-holiday-hostess.

“You both look great.”

This time, Aldon does grunt, drawing a chuckle from me.

When another couple pulls him and Jane away, Summer comes to stand beside me, facing the bustling living room. “It’s a good thing there are no kids at this party, or he’d be setting parents up for extensive therapy bills.”

I crack up, shaking my head at my brother, who’s struggling to cross his arms over his bulbous fake belly. When I catch Summer smiling at me, my breath hitches.

Honestly, it’s been doing that since I picked her up. I can’t seem to regulate any of my body functions tonight—my heart galloping, my fingers tensing, my mind repetitively thanking the universe for the opportunity to take Summer Owens to a Christmas party. Since we walked in the door, she’s been a beacon of golden light, effortlessly comfortable with everyone while asking questions she genuinely wants to know the answers to.

Also, her smoking-hot holiday dress is entirely too distracting. Though it’s modest, with its long sleeves, high back, and knee length, the way the green velvet fabric hugs her body keeps testing my restraint. I want to guide her by the small of her back, slide my hand over her waist when I introduce her to someone, and run my palms down her arms all at the same time. The deep color also makes her blue eyes look darker tonight, more intense.

Aaaand I must be imagining the heat suddenly flooding Summer’s gaze. My exhausted brain is playing tricks on me because I haven’t fed it since breakfast. I barely had time to shower and get changed earlier.

“Are you hungry?” I clear my throat of its sandpaper scrape. “I haven’t eaten in hours.”

Whatever was there, she blinks it away. “Sure. Let’s eat.”

Over the next hour, we eat, and I introduce Summer to everyone I know. Meanwhile, I make a mental tally of how many times I’ve made her laugh. Good news: I’m winning by a landslide. Bad news: I’m becoming addicted to the pearlescent sound of it. There’s no doubt that I could spend the rest of my days doing whatever’s necessary to ensure Summer’s happiness.

“Stop doing that.” She pokes her finger in my direction after a particularly ridiculous story.

I splay my hand over my chest. “Being disarmingly charming? I couldn’t stop if I tried.”

Dina smirks as Summer rolls her eyes.

“You can’t stop Nick at Christmastime,” Dina says, pointing her champagne flute at me. “Have you seen the wetsuit?”

Summer glows like they’re sharing the best secret. She’s been doing that all night, becoming instantly intimate with whomever she’s talking to. “It’s crazy, right?”

“When it comes to Christmas, he’s like a kid with a secret stash of Pixy Stixs.”

“More like he’s snorting hot cocoa dust straight from the packet,” Summer adds.

“Excuse me.” I tilt my chin down. “I only snort crushed candy canes. I have standards.”

Dina guffaws that boisterous laugh of hers. “I’ve never asked you, but is there a particular reason you love the holiday?”

“Other than it being the best one—ask any kid in a three-block radius?” I pause, smirking. “Honestly, it’s because of Summer. She was Miss Christmas the entire month of December—humming holiday songs, decorating her locker, wearing hideous Christmas sweaters.”

I take Summer’s, “Hey,” and playful push to my shoulder in stride.

“It was infectious. You’d end up standing a little straighter, feeling a little lighter after seeing her. We’d be stressed about semester exams, but Summer always made sure we remembered others. She organized Angel Tree fundraisers for the school to ensure local kids had presents and winter clothes beneath the tree.”

The memory of my father’s quirked brow when I used my credit card to give thousands to fulfill Christmas wishes slips before my vision. At the time, I played it off as altruism, but I was as selfish then as I was being now. I did it to make Summer smile.

“I never realized how cold this time of year can be without someone to brighten it.” Though my chest feels like it’s vibrating, I force myself to meet Summer’s gaze. “Once she was gone and that joy went with her, I wanted to try and be that person for others.”

Her mouth opens and closes before a soft, “Nick,” escapes. I don’t even notice that Dina has excused herself, only that the delicate holly clip holding back Summer’s golden locks has lost a strand. It brushes close to her dark, fluttering lashes. It’s impossible not to step forward, to not capture the silky lock in my fingertips and slide it behind her ear. Giving in, I allow my hand to lightly trace her shoulder, to feel the velvet of her dress all the way down her arm until my hand hovers above hers. Hers twitches, her fingertips brushing mine as I suck in a staggered breath. I’m a second from intertwining our fingers when my name is called from across the room.

“Come on, Piano Man. Regale us so we can get on with the gift exchange.”

“Piano Man?” I want to kiss Summer’s scrunched brows even more than I wanted to hold her hand.

“You’ll see.” I send a flirty wink instead, something I’d have done before while teasing her.

Fortunately, the gesture has the same effect it did years ago, wrinkling Summer’s nose.

I cross to the piano tucked against the staircase, grinning at party goers as I pass. “As you all know, Jane is the musician extraordinaire and an incredible piano teacher who you should all send your kids to. She also takes on hapless, lost causes like—”

“We get it. You’re a talentless hack. She indulges your Christmas carol fantasies. Play ‘Jingle Bells’ before my brain explodes.”

My arm extends toward Aldon with a jester’s smile. “Your host, Santa Claus, ladies and gentlemen. What a joy to behold.”

Jane stops Aldon’s step forward with a hand to his chest as the room titters.

“A reminder that I’m still learning, and I’m only playing if everyone sings along,” I add, sitting on the piano bench and glancing at the music Jane set out for me.

After two years of lessons with Jane, I should be able to get through this ditty’s beginner arrangement without errors.

Probably.

Once I finish the short intro, I glance around the room to encourage everyone to join me in the lyrics. The jubilant grin on Summer’s face as she sings along is just the encouragement I need to banish the bout of stage fright making my fingertips tremble. As my friends continue to sing with me, warmth ribbons through my ribs. Some of them are butchering the notes, and I’ve hit a few incorrect keys, but it only makes the whole experience more perfect—so much better than I imagined. By the end of the song, everyone is smiling, laughing, or both. Even the corner of Aldon’s mouth tips up before he slams it back down to start the White Elephant exchange.

I end up with an unsettling yet hilarious ornament of Nicholas Cage’s face blended into a ceramic circle that matches his skin tone. Summer fights for and wins a cast-iron skillet ornament with a bacon and eggs happy face.

“Sorry I stole this,” she says to Ruby, Don’s wife.

“No, you’re not.” She snickers, her long salt-and-pepper plait coming over the shoulder of her black leather jacket.

Summer beams. “You’re right. I’m not. Sorry for not being—” She rolls her hand. “You get it.”

Before the house completely empties, Ezra corners us. “Hey, a bunch of us are heading to Bayside Table for Christmas Karaoke. You in?”

Normally, this party would end around midnight, but being as our hosts are new parents and have been yawning throughout the gift exchange, the guests uniformly began dissipating a little after nine. I hesitate because I usually help Aldon and Jane pick up after everyone leaves.

“He’d love to,” Jane replies for me, hand falling heavy on my shoulder.

I open my mouth to argue, but she gives me mom eyes—you know, the ones where they get threateningly wide before returning to normal, during which you swear your soul leaves your body. Then Jane imperceptibly tilts her head in Summer’s direction. My chin dips in silent thanks before I turn to Ezra, making a mental note to come back and wash dishes tomorrow morning.

“We’ll be there,” I say before realizing there’s no ‘we.’

As much as I’d love there to be a ‘we,’ Summer has been very clear that she’s in a relationship. I really, really need to stop finding reasons to touch her—something I’ve failed at tonight. I should keep us out of ‘we’ situations altogether, but…it’s Christmas Karaoke. It’s always such a blast, and we’ll be going as a group, so maybe I can keep my antsy hands to myself.

“I mean, Summer, would you like to…uh, sing with everyone? Somewhere else? Because we already sang here.” An awkward laugh comes out of my mouth before I cross my arms, uncross them, and put my hands in my pockets.

The corner of her mouth slowly drifts up at the same time Ezra coughs, “Real smooth,” into his fist.

The desire to save face is a monstrous, unbearable force. I set my lips into a smirk and add, “As friends,” to take the desperation out of my invitation.

A storm cloud passes over Summer’s blue eyes before she pivots to fully face my coworker, slipping her hand through his arm. “I’d love to come with you, Ezra .”

Summer doesn’t spare me a passing glance as she yanks a confused Ezra toward the front door. I might as well be sawdust beneath her black, pencil-heeled booties.

“Oh, she’s ticked now,” Jane mutters. “I wouldn’t have dropped the f-bomb.”

“But that’s all we can be. Friends. Summer has a boyfriend.” My throat works as they exit, frustration like an ever-expanding balloon in my chest. Shouldn’t Summer be happy that I reinforced her boundary?

Jane makes a sympathetic sound, but Aldon simply shoves both of our coats into my hands. “Fix it outside. I’m going to bed.”

My head drops with a harsh exhale before I jog after them.