Your christmas, p.1
Your Christmas, page 1
Table of Contents
Books by S. J. Coles
Title Page
Legal Page
Book Description
Dedication
Trademark Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
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About the Author
Pride Publishing books by S. J. Coles
Single Books
Blood Winter
Straight to the Heart
Dark Summer
The Devil You Know
Collections
My Bloody Valentine: Blood Red Roses
Sun, Sea and Small-Town Secrets
Enemy Territory: My Iron Knight
Once Upon a Holiday
YOUR CHRISTMAS
S. J. COLES
Your Christmas
ISBN # 978-1-83943-235-4
©Copyright S. J. Coles 2022
Cover Art by Kelly Martin ©Copyright November 2022
Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz
Pride Publishing
This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.
Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.
The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.
Published in 2022 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.
Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.
If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as “unsold and destroyed” to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this “stripped book”.
Book one in the
Once Upon a Holiday series
It’s your Christmas, Nick. Make it what you want it to be.
Nick only agreed to return to Littleton for Christmas because Charlie, his movie-star ex, is throwing a Christmas Eve party. Charlie was the one who got away, and, regardless of what his old friend Seph says, Nick thinks he still has a shot.
But things don’t go according to plan. Maybe it’s being back in his hometown, maybe it’s the time of year, but Nick is looking at Seph in a whole different way.
Nick has to decide what he really wants for Christmas before he blows yet another chance at happiness.
Dedication
For Kristian.
Merry Christmas!
Trademark Acknowledgements
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:
Merry Xmas Everybody: Noddy Holder, Jim Lea
Harrods: Qatar Investment Authority
Jaguar: Jaguar Land Rover Limited
Hugo Boss: Hugo Boss A.G. Stock Company
I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day: Ron Wood
A Christmas Carol: Charles Dickens
Armani: Giorgio Armani S.p.A.
Marmite: Unilever
Oscars: The Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Sciences
Ford: The Ford Motor Company Corporation
Chanel: Chanel Inc.
Bollinger: The Bollinger Family
EastEnders: BBC One
Twitter: Twitter Inc.
Chapter One
“I got it,” Nick said as he stepped into the icy December wind. “I only bloody well got it.”
“Congratulations.” Nick could hear the smile in Seph’s voice, even though the mic on his friend’s pay-as-you go mobile made him sound like he was at the bottom of a well. “I knew you’d smash it.”
Nick also smiled as he hailed a taxi. Seph always made him feel good, even at times like this when his other emotions were harder to call. “Well, they couldn’t exactly pass me over after my big win last month.”
“You gonna phone your dad?”
“I’ll tell him Monday,” Nick said as he climbed into the taxi, wincing at Smooth Christmas blasting from the driver’s radio. “Mate, can you turn that down?”
The driver gave him a look and turned Slade’s Merry Christmas Everybody down by one notch. Nick sighed. “Kensington please, pal. This is finally it, Seph. A shot at a partnership. The chance I’ve been waiting for… You still there?”
“I’m here.”
“Got something to share?” Nick said after a heartbeat.
“Why would you say that?”
“I know your silences, Seph. Come on. Spit it out.”
Seph sighed. “I dunno, Nick. Just last week you were telling me how you never have time for yourself—to have fun, to meet anyone. Won’t this promotion mean even less time for those things?”
“Yeah, but I’ll finally be getting paid enough to make it worth it.”
“Fair enough.” Seph’s neutral tone didn’t fool Nick, but he continued before Nick could retort. “So, did you make a decision yet?”
“About what?” Nick asked, gritting his teeth as Slade ended and Michael Bublé’s crooning filled the car.
“About this weekend,” Seph prompted. “You know…Christmas?”
“I can’t come. Gotta get caught up on my new caseload.”
A pause. “Not to be that guy, Nick, but your dad—”
“Dad wants to sit on his arse getting pissed. It will be no different from any other day, except on Saturday he’ll be drinking sherry.”
“He wants to see you, Nick. I know he does.”
“He told you this?”
“I can just tell. He’s lonely.”
“Stop with the guilt-tripping, Dr. Rose,” Nick muttered. “It doesn’t suit you.”
“Nick, Christmas is a time to be with those you love—even if you hate them at the same time.”
“I don’t hate Dad,” Nick said, loosening his tie. “I’ve just got too much on.”
“Even more reason to come. You need a break. Besides, didn’t it occur to you…?”
“What?” Nick prompted when Seph didn’t continue.
“Didn’t it occur to you that I might want to see you?”
“We just saw each other,” Nick protested, wincing when his work phone started buzzing in his pocket. His new secretary was emailing his schedule for the following week and requesting confirmations. He fought the sinking feeling when he saw the back-to-back court dates, meetings and corporate networking events. “What did you say?” he said when he realized Seph had said something else.
“I said my conference was eighteen months ago. And you’ve not been here to Littleton in, what? Christ…years.”
“Look… I’m sorry, Seph,” he said, opening the app to accept the appointment invitations. “There’s just nothing for me up there.”
Another pause, longer this time. But before Nick could decide what it meant, Seph spoke again.
“Come on, Nick,” he cajoled. “Even Charlie Kearney is spending Christmas at home this year.”
Nick started. “Charlie’s back?”
Seph swore under his breath. “Sorry. I didn’t think.”
“Charlie Kearney is going to be in Littleton for Christmas?”
“Yeah,” Seph said, a little tightly. “He’s having some big look-how-famous-I-am party at Arnold House on Christmas Eve.”
“And you’re invited?”
“Unfortunately.”
“He didn’t tell me…”
“Shit, Nick, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, no. This is a good thing,” Nick said, pocketing the work phone and smiling.
“It is?”
“Think about it. I’ve just got my new place, a new job. What better time to see him again? It’s, like, fate or something.”
“You really think it’s worth it? After all this time?”
“Things are different now,” Nick said. “I’m different.”
“His fiancé will be there.”
Nick snorted. “That designer he picked up in Paris? They’ve only been together for three weeks.”
“They’re still engaged.”
“I don’t care if they got married at Notre-Dame. Mega-star or not, it’s still just Charlie being Charlie. This feels like a chance, Seph, a second chance, and I’m gonna take it.”
“I just…”
“What?” Nick said, his friend’s tone sending irritation rippling over his skin.
“I just don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Nick insisted. “I’m not saying we’ll get back together. But there’s unre
“Well, that’s romantic.”
“Fine. You want romantic?” He drew a deep breath. “He’s the one who got away, Seph. I’ve never stopped thinking about him. I deserve the chance to at least tell him that. Right?”
“Of course you do. But do you really think you’ll have anything in common anymore?”
“He’s a Littleton success story,” Nick said, swiping the steam away from the window to try to see what progress they’d made down Brompton Road. “So am I.”
“Well, can’t argue with that.”
“Too right.” Nick frowned as they passed Harrods’ festive shopfront display—plastic snow, garish ornaments, a smiling family in matching jumpers digging into mince pies in front of a blazing log fire that had to be a set in some studio somewhere. “Might as well get something out of this god-awful weekend.”
“So…you’re coming?”
“I’m coming.”
“Great,” Seph said, the warmth in his voice starting an unfamiliar tingling in Nick’s toes. “That’s really great, Nick.”
Chapter Two
After some debate, Nick decided to get the train to Littleton. He knew using public transport the day before Christmas Eve was probably asking for trouble, and there was no First Class on the branch line. But the thought of taking his Jag down the winding, country roads filled with slush and muck made him opt for the cleaner—if less comfortable—option.
By the time he stepped onto the platform at Littleton Station, he was tired, frustrated and aching from the hard seats, and the evening was drawing in. Flakes of snow drifted in the frigid air. It was a small station with no taxi rank, and he stood contemplating the uphill road to the town center with a scowl.
Then he thought of Charlie.
Nick always pictured him as he’d looked on their first night together, all burning blue eyes and tousled curls. Nick smiled, shouldered his bag and left the station.
He bent against the icy wind and didn’t look up until he had to sidestep a pair of chattering children carrying a Christmas wreath. Their mother gave her apologies and herded her children on, the wreath shedding needles and the smell of evergreen. Nick finally looked around.
The market square was ablaze. Ropes of blinking icicles were strung between the buildings. The large tree in the center flashed alternate red, green, blue and yellow, the same lights as the winter he’d left over a decade ago. The windows of the bakery, butcher and The White Hart pub were sprayed with fake snow. People stood smoking and chatting outside the pub with laughter and Christmas music spilling through the open door behind them. Couples and families huddled together in padded waterproofs watching a brass band playing carols, the adults clutching paper cups of steaming mulled wine from a cart on the corner.
The cart was familiar. The vendor was a friend of his mother’s. She had retired from catering years ago but had always appeared in the square over Christmas with her urn, whatever the weather. Apparently, that hadn’t changed, either. She raised a mittened hand to him.
“Nick? Nick Bostock! Thought that was you! Come warm your cockles, lad.”
Nick resisted looking at his watch and wandered over. The smell of warm wine, citrus and spices cut through the cold like heated gold. She held out a cup, and he sipped politely. It warmed him all the way to his toes.
“Good?” The woman was smiling, her round face wrinkling, her black eyes shining in the flashing tree lights.
“Yes, Auntie Mia,” he said, setting the cup down. “I see you haven’t lost your touch.”
“Oh no,” she chuckled, putting the lid back on the urn. “Not yet. So, it’s been a long time.”
“Yeah,” Nick said awkwardly, glancing over his shoulder. “And I’m just on my way to my dad’s…”
“See much of young Seph these days?” she asked. “You were always so close, back in the day.”
Something in her voice made Nick pause. She was still smiling benignly, dimples denting her pink-flushed cheeks, but it seemed something had sharpened in her gaze.
“We’re in touch, yeah.”
“Glad to hear it,” she said, holding his cup back up to him. “On the house, lad. To help remind you home is where the heart is.”
Nick took the cup, smiled stiffly and turned away, taking the main road out of town.
The snow grew heavier, and he lamented the state of his new trainers as he turned onto Oak Street. He was just heading up the drive to his old front door when it opened and out stepped Seph. He spotted Nick and beamed. His hair was longer and threaded with silver. His green eyes shone. His smile lit his face and crinkled the skin in the corners of his eyes. The sight stole the air from Nick’s lungs as effectively as a kick to the gut would.
Nick still spoke to his old friend regularly. No matter what was going on in his life—a frustrating case, office politics, another disastrous relationship—Seph always had a listening ear and a kind word, so Nick felt like he still knew him well. But it was only now, seeing him standing there in the snow with a look on his face like all his Christmases had come at once that Nick realized how long it had been since he’d really taken notice.
He was certain Seph had not this effect on him when they had last met in London. But then Nick had to admit that he’d been so distracted by a case that he hadn’t paid much attention during the one drink he’d been able to squeeze into his schedule.
“Nick! You made it.”
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m here,” Nick said, finally finding his voice. He blinked at his father’s door. “Is everything okay?”
“What? Oh, yes, everything’s fine.” Seph smiled wider and came down the drive. “I’m not on duty. I was just checking in.”
“How’s he doing?”
“Not too bad,” Seph said, his smile losing some of its brightness. “His chest’s bothering him a bit. The cold, you know.”
Nick nodded. “Thank you.”
“Of course.” He reached out and squeezed Nick’s arm. The contact shot warmth through Nick’s chilled frame. “It’s good to see you, man.”
“And you. You look… You look really great.”
Seph’s eyes, greener than bottle glass, glowed. “Thanks. I’ve started running again. It’s given me more energy.”
“Impressive. How’d you fit that in?”
“The practice hired another GP,” Seph said, putting his hands in his pockets and hunching against the wind. “I’ve finally been able to cut down my hours.”
Nick raised his eyebrows. “You didn’t tell me that.”
Seph shrugged.
Nick felt a stab of guilt. “Yeah, I know. I’ve been wrapped up in, well, everything. Hey, are you free later? I’ll buy you a pint at The Hart.”
Seph beamed. “I’m never one to turn down a free pint.”
“Great. About eight?”
“See you there. Oh,” Seph said, glancing back at the house, “just bear in mind… He’s getting on now, yeah? And he hasn’t been well. He may look different from how you remember.”
Nick bit back the first retort that rose to his lips and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”
Seph patted his shoulder and strode off into the softly falling snow, waving over his shoulder when he reached the corner. Nick watched him go in a kind of daze, the soft spell that had fallen over him not breaking until Seph was out of sight. Then he shook himself and turned back to the house. He braced himself then stepped inside.
Nick’s father was in his usual recliner, his feet up, face grim, in front of a 4K television that was balanced precariously on a listing TV stand.
“Hey, Dad.”
The old man looked up, peering through thick glasses. “Nick. Decided to finally come see your old dad then?”
“Clearly,” Nick said, putting down his case and gazing around the room. It smelled like spilled beer, dust and microwave curry, the remains of which sat in its plastic tray at his father’s elbow. Dog-eared magazines were piled on the coffee table, along with a cluster of dirty mugs. Unopened post and piles of spy novels crowded the shelves and windowsill, along with a forlorn collection of dead potted plants.
An old plastic Christmas tree was set on the cupboard in the corner, but the fairy lights weren’t turned on and the star was askew. The sad-looking thing was the only indication that this wasn’t any other time of the year. “What about the other decorations?”
