A Man for the Holiday

Chapter Four

Shawn

“What are you doing here?” I snapped at her, clearly still sore from our last meeting.

“Do you know each other?” Greg asked.

“No,” she said immediately. I sneered at her and turned to Greg.

“What is she doing here?” I asked my manager.

“She is our new tour guide.”

“You employed her? He scoffed. How can he employ this rude woman?

“Look, mister,” she said, facing me. “I am immensely qualified for this job, as your manager here can attest. But since your personal feelings will override your professional sense of duty, then fine. I’m out.”

She grabbed her coat and headed towards the door. She was right, I am clearly overreacting and I need to make things right.

“Wait,” I called to her. She stopped but didn’t turn around. “You are right. I shouldn’t have interfered in the hiring process. You can start work here.”

She turned then and met my eyes.

“Thank you.” she muttered and left the place.

I felt good hearing that, like I’ve done the right thing. There was a huge smile on my face as I watched her leave.

I turned around to see my manager smiling and looking sheepishly at me. I knew what that smile meant.

***

Irvine

Snow blanketed the sidewalks, softening the edges of the world and muffling the sounds of life. I pulled my scarf tighter against the biting cold as I approached Lucy’s small, blue-painted house at the edge of town.

As I reached the front steps of my friend’s house, I knocked and waited. Soon the door swung open, and there she was. Her growing belly was unmistakable beneath the oversized sweater she wore, and her hair was tied back in a messy bun.

“Irvine?” Lucy’s eyes widened in disbelief before breaking into the same bright smile I remembered. “Oh my God! Is that really you?!”

I laughed, throwing my arms around her in a tight hug. “It’s really me! I can’t believe you’re here. It's been a long time!”

She pulled back, grinning and holding me at arm’s length to look me over. “Wow, you haven’t changed a bit! You look amazing, Irvine.”

“So do you!” I said, taking in her glowing face and the faint curve of her belly. “And I hear congratulations are in order. Married, one on the way—look at you, all settled!”

Lucy gave a weak smile. “I know, right? Life has been a whirlwind. Come on in. Don’t mind the mess.”

As we stepped into the warmth of her home, it was like stepping back in time. The same cozy warmth I remembered from all our high school sleepovers filled the air, but now it felt even more like home, with toys scattered around and photos lining the walls.

Does this mean she and her husband live in her parents' old house? What about the man’s house? I decided not to ask questions, at least not now.

The living room was cozy but cluttered, filled with toys, books, and signs of a busy household. A young boy, no older than five, sat cross-legged on the floor, absorbed in building a tower of colorful blocks.

“My son, Liam,” she introduced.

I crouched down to his level. “Hey there, buddy.”

The boy looked up shyly before giving me a toothy grin and returning to his masterpiece. I straightened and turned to Lucy, who had already moved to the kitchen to put on some tea.

“You look... tired,” I said cautiously, joining her by the counter. “How are you holding up?”

Lucy glanced at me, her expression briefly unreadable, before busying herself with the kettle.

“You know how it is,” she said lightly. “Pregnancy, a hyperactive kid, and a husband who, well, let’s just say he’s not exactly a big help.”

Irvine raised an eyebrow. “Is that a polite way of saying he’s useless?”

“Something like that,” she nodded and we burst into a short, humorless laugh.

Back in the day, it was Lucy that would use the word useless, while I would be looking for a polite way of putting it.

We moved to the couch with our steaming mugs of tea. For a while, we talked about mundane things—reminiscing about high school, laughing about old teachers, and sharing updates on mutual friends. But eventually, the conversation circled back to Lucy’s husband.

“You know,” I said, setting my mug on the table. “I just can’t believe you married Michael? The same guy who used to call us names and shove our books off our desks? What happened?”

Lucy sighed, her hand absentmindedly resting on her belly. “It’s... complicated. After my parents died, I was a mess. He was there for me in ways no one else was. I thought... I thought he’d changed. I thought he cared.”

Irvine frowned. “And now?”

Lucy hesitated, her eyes flickering toward the door. She lowered her voice.

“Now I don’t know. Sometimes, I think he’s still the same person we knew back then, just hiding behind a different mask. He can be so cruel, but I’m stuck, Irvine. I’ve got Liam to think about and another baby on the way. What choice do I have?”

“It's okay, Lucy,” I said, touching her arm, and she smiled weakly.

“Enough about me. I heard things didn’t work with Jared. What really happened?”

Before I could respond, the front door slammed. Heavy footsteps echoed through the house, and a man’s voice barked, “Lucy! Where are you?”

Lucy stiffened, her fingers tightening around her mug. A moment later, Michael appeared in the doorway. He was taller than I remembered, but the years hadn’t softened his sharp, menacing features. His gaze immediately landed on us.

“What’s this?” he demanded, glaring at Lucy. “Sitting around, gossiping like you’ve got nothing better to do? Get up and make dinner. I’ve been working all day.”

“This is my friend, Irvine,” she said pointing at me. “Remember her?”

“I don’t care who she is. I just came back from work and I’m hungry.”

Lucy opened her mouth, but the words seemed to die on her lips. She stood slowly, avoiding his gaze. “I’ll get started,” she said quietly.

I bristled. “She’s pregnant, Michael. Can’t you cook for yourself once in a while?”

His eyes snapped to me, narrowing. “What the fu*k do you mean by cooking? I go out there and work hard for this family. While she does nothing at home.”

“Who told you she does nothing at home?” I fired back at him. “Maybe you should try being pregnant and taking care of a toddler. Then clean, wash and cook. I believe she does more than you.”

He glared at me, clearly angry. “This is none of your business, Irvine. Maybe you should leave.”

I stood, my hands clenched into fists at my sides. Imagine this s**t of a man asking me to leave my friend’s house.

Michael stepped closer, his presence intimidating, but I held my ground. For a moment, the tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Then, Lucy stepped between us.