Tis the Season for Revenge: A Holiday Romantic Comedy

“Where are we going?” she asks, smiling up at me with those big eyes and that big smile. We’ve left my car at my condo’s parking garage and are walking toward our destination.

I’m almost shocked she doesn’t realize what’s happening, where we’re headed. Granted, it’s New York, so we could be anywhere, doing anything.

“It’s a surprise,” I say, leaning down as we walk to press a small kiss to the tip of her nose. It’s red with the cold, but at least this time she’s in jeans and a warm coat.

“Can you give me a hint?” she asks, and her face is lit up with the excitement of not knowing. She loves surprises, I’ve learned. Not big extravagant things, but little ones. Texts to say hi or bringing home shit flowers from a bodega. A date that she doesn’t know the end of.

She’s simple, my Abigail.

“Nope.”

“Come on! Just a hint.”

“Almost there, naranja. Calm down.” We turn the corner and our destination comes into view, but that’s not what I’m looking for. No, I’m looking for the two people out front. Tugging on her hand in mine, I speed up just a hair, waving at the couple.

“Damien, what—”

“Hey!” the woman says, her smile huge but not pointed at me.

Instead, it’s at my girl.

Her sister.

“What the—” Abigail starts, but she’s being pulled into her older sister’s arms as she laughs, and Hannah rocks her back and forth. I move, putting a hand out to Hunter and shaking it.

“Hey, man. Thanks for making this happen.”

“If Hannah found out she had a chance to surprise Abs like this and I said no, I’d lose my balls,” he says, but his smile is wide, and his eyes quickly return to his wife.

I get it.

The squealing and jumping coming from the Keller girls is part adorable, part hilarious, but I’m completely unable to stop watching.

After a bit, they stop, and Abigail looks over at me.

“Did you do this?” she asks.

“Shot Hunter a message, asked when they might be free for a night in the city.” She looks up at me with a small smile. “You said you don’t see your sister enough. Here she is.” Her eyes go gooey and warm, and I know it was the right decision to set this up.

“Aww, you miss me, Abs?” Hannah says, grabbing her sister’s chin and tugging it like she’s some kind of annoying auntie. Abbie rolls her eyes and hits her sister.

“No, never. I miss your cookies.”

“Liar,” Hannah says before moving back to her husband, who wraps her in his arms. I put my arm around Abbie’s waist and tuck her into my side.

“So what’s the plan? Are we going to dinner?” Abbie asks, and god, she’s so lost. I tip my head at the marquee above us and wait for her to look up.

She does.

And it’s gorgeous watching the emotions and thoughts flit across her face.

Confusion, then understanding, then shock.

“What?” she asks, but the words are soft.

“You said you watched the video with your sister as a kid, right? But never got to make it?” She nods. “The firm has tickets.”

“We’re going to see the Christmas Spectacular?” she asks, her eyes wide. “But you said it’s dumb.”

“It is,” I say with a smile.

“Then why are we going?” While we have this conversation, Hannah and Hunter are standing to the side with smiles, Hannah’s softer, Hunter looking like he’s watching his past play out in front of him.

I wonder just how much trauma the Keller girls went through and how similar it is.

“You want to go.” That’s all I say, and when I say it, I know it’s all I have to say. Her eyes soften, and her mouth opens just a hair as she looks at me.

Fuck, she’s gorgeous.

And for a moment, I can’t think of a single thing I wouldn’t do to put that look on her face.

Abbie sang and wiggled in her seat through the entire performance, Hannah laughing at her and rolling her eyes. It’s easy to picture what they would have been like as young girls, Hannah watching her sister while she watched it on some bootleg VHS and rolling her eyes at her sister’s antics.

And now we’re sitting together at dinner while Hannah tells a story about Abigail turning some cheerleader’s hair purple because she’d said something nasty about her sister.

“Abbie is the queen of revenge, I swear. She doesn’t let anyone get away with being an ass to her or the people she loves,” Hannah says with pride in her voice. After Abigail told me about how her sister basically raised her, this makes sense.

“Except with that Dick—” Hunter starts, but then his body jolts, and he looks to his wife with wide eyes.

“We don’t need to talk about Abbie’s exes with her new guy here, Hunter,” she says with a glare at her husband. It’s hilarious watching her make this man who I’ve known as a take-no-prisoners businessman and full-on player instantly back off whatever he was about to say.

“Oh, I’ve heard all about Abigail’s shitty ex,” I say, trying to help out my friend. Hannah’s eyes go wide, an eyebrow raised in my direction. “If I ever meet the guy, I’m punching him right in the face,” I say.

“If you ever . . . Oh. Right,” Hannah says, and her wide eyes move from me to her sister.

“He’s very . . . protective,” Abigail says, her words stilted.

“Good. Abs can use that,” Hunter says. “We worry about her being so far away without anyone near.”

“We’re not far,” Hannah says, “But I’ve been watching out for her my whole life.” I can feel my girl shake her head and probably roll her eyes. “I’m just saying, having extra eyes on you to keep you safe and happy is a relief.”

“I’m happy to take on the job,” I say, moving to press my lips into Abigail’s hair, and I don’t miss the little sigh she lets out or how she melts just a hair further into me.

It reminds me how badly we need to discuss where this is going after the holidays. Of course, that was our deal—but there isn’t a part of me that thinks whatever crazy story she has to confess will change how fast I’m falling for her.

After dinner, we’re all waiting for a cab—Hunter off to take Hannah to his condo in Manhattan while I plan to convince Abigail to come to my place for the night. If she wants to go home to her place, I’ll follow her there, though.

I want to spend the night with her.

I’m standing behind her, her head coming up to my chin even in her high-heeled boots, and I pull her in closer, pretending to fight off the cold but just wanting her as close as possible to me.

My hand moves to above Rockefeller Center, pointing.

“You see up there?” I ask in her ear, and she nods. “That’s the Rainbow Room.” A gust of wind blows through us, and her body tightens against mine with the cold.

“I’ve heard of it,” she says, her voice low. Not her normal low, a strange sort of low I’ve never noticed.

I wonder if it’s the cold freezing her lungs the way it is mine.

“Next week is the party,” I say, turning her in my arms. Her eyes are wide, probably from moving from the dark of the sky to the bright lights under the marquee. “You’ll be there with me, as my date.” She doesn’t speak, but her little tongue comes out to wet her lips. My own tip up with a smile. “Make all those old assholes jealous, having a gorgeous blonde on my arm,” I say, and again, her body tightens, but there’s no breeze this time.

“You just want me there because I’m a pretty, young, blonde thing?”

“Absolutely, “ I say with a smile. “But also because I can’t think of a single thing that would make that night more enjoyable than to spend the night with the literal personification of sunshine and happiness.” The wind whips her hair, and I tuck a strand behind her ear. “You’re coming, right?” I ask, suddenly unsure. She seems . . . nervous.

But a slow smile spreads on her lips. And it could be the lights, could be that it’s been a long day for her, could be my mind seeing things that aren’t there, but the smile looks hesitant. Anxious, even.

Still, she smiles, and she nods. “Yeah. I’d like that, Damien.”