My Favorite Holidate: A Standalone Holiday Romance

Wilder

Victor’s name on the screen alone sends a flash of fear through me, so I brace myself for bad news as I snick the door shut.

“Hey,” I say as I yank on jeans and shoes, then jerk the phone away from my head to pull on my sweater, nearly getting my arm stuck in the neck. “What’s going on?”

“Just wanted to check in,” he says in his diplomatic way as I beeline to the living room.

“Thanks. I’m okay.” When I reach the sliding glass door, I jerk it open and head onto the deck, then move past small talk to get to the heart of the matter. “What’s going on with Dad?”

“Just wondering if you’ve heard from him?” Victor asks as I pace across the deck in the cold of the Evergreen Falls morning. It’s chilly since it’s late December, but this was never going to be a warm and fuzzy call anyway.

“No. I haven’t heard from him,” I answer, but I’m always ready for bad news when it comes to my father. To hear he hurt himself. He lost stomach-dropping amounts of money. He’s in jail. He’s dead. “I take it this means you haven’t?”

“It’s been a few days. But last night I got word from my friend Diane Diamond over at Desert Springs Casino that he got caught counting cards.”

I groan, dragging a hand through my hair. “Are you kidding me? He’s cheating now?”

Victor sighs, long and resigned. “If you believe what they say.”

He’s a nice friend. That’s kind of him, to not crucify him without evidence. That’s friendly of him, to hedge his bets. But I believe what they say. It’s exactly what Dad would do. “Let’s assume it’s true for now. What does this mean exactly?”

I should know since I got started in the hotel business in Vegas. After I invested well in some startups, I had enough capital to bulldoze some of the shitty, rundown hotels in Vegas and build big, beautiful ones. I got my start by razing the kind of places where my dad plays cards. I’m sure there’s a metaphor there. A childhood wound I’m trying to heal from. Right now, though, I just want to know what the fuck is going on.

“It means he’s not welcome at Desert Springs anymore,” Victor says. “And you know how people talk.”

“Yes, I do.” Casino managers will tell other casino managers, and that’ll make it harder and harder for him to play. Which means he’ll probably become even more desperate. Which means who the hell knows what he’ll do to get his fix? “Give me a shout if you hear from him. I can try him as well. Maybe he’ll pick up if I call.”

“That’d be good. Why don’t you give it a shot?”

“I can do that,” I say. At least it’s something. “I’ll call his apartment complex and see if he’s at his place.”

“Let me know what you find out.”

“Count on it.”

The second I hang up, I try my dad. He doesn’t answer. I send him a text. I make a couple quick calls to people I know in Vegas. People who might know him or know where he is. The manager of the apartment complex. The woman who lives next door. Nobody’s seen him, but I ask for them to let me know as soon as they do.

A sick feeling twists in my gut, but then a voice slithers in my ear, saying, “He’s fine. He’s done this in the past. He always does this.”

I’ve been down this road before. My father’s pulled this disappearing act many times. Usually he goes someplace else, like Reno. He’ll resurface there, lose a ton of money, and then call me and ask me to pay it off. And what will I do?

Pay it off.

I stare at the mountains in the distance, the cold air seeping deep into my bones. He’s the problem I can’t solve.

I slump onto the outdoor couch and stare at the stark outlines of the peaks, wishing I had their certainty and, when it comes to my dad, their strength.

I stare off into the distance long enough for the door to slide open and Fable to pad across the deck in a pair of the fuzzy socks I gave her. They’re adorable. A fleece blanket is wrapped around her. Her hair is still morning messy but her eyes are bright and filled with concern. “Hey, you,” she says.

“Hey,” I say, my tone flat.

“You okay?”

“Yes. Of course. Absolutely.”

She gives me a soft but admonishing smile. “A triple denial?”

Saw right through me. I meet her gaze, hold up my hands, and shrug. “What can you do?”

She glances down toward the couch cushion. “Want company?”

With her, the answer is always yes. “I do,” I say quietly, not even trying to hide how badly I want her presence.

She sits next to me, tucks her feet under her, then says, “That was your dad’s friend.”

There’s something so refreshing about the fact that she’s direct. She’s cut straight to the heart of the matter. “Yes,” I reply.

“The one who calls to give you a heads-up about what’s going on?”

She remembers everything, from why I like snow to what kind of man my father is. With some embarrassment over my dad’s ways, I look up, meet her soft gaze, then pause. Am I doing this? Telling her the full truth? Telling anyone? But my chest is tight, tighter than it’s been before. Maybe telling her will help loosen some of the tension I carry around with me.

So I tell her everything Victor shared, ending with, “And I wish I knew what to do.”

But as soon as I say that, I hate how weak it makes me sound. How helpless. Like I don’t know how to do my job. Like I can’t run a business. How hard can it really be to find a lowlife gambler?

I don’t give her a chance to respond. I’ve got to be able to figure this out. “But maybe there’s something I can do. I can make some more calls. I need to bail him out. It’s just smart.”

Fable shoots me a doubtful look. “Is it though?”

How can she possibly understand? Sure, her father is a showboating jackass, but at least he’s not an addict. Besides, she’s the one who said, Sometimes, we aren’t always ready to do the hard thing. So we have to do something easier first. This is just easier. “I have the money. It’s ridiculous not to pay it. It’s selfish not to pay it. What is the point of working this hard if not to spend it on my family?”

“Wilder, is that what you want to do?” It’s asked thoughtfully, with consideration and care.

But what I want to do is irrelevant. I’ve never been able to do what I want with him. Paying it off is what I have to do. It’s what I’m supposed to do. It’s the right fucking thing. Doesn’t she get this? “I’ll try to help him,” I say, but that falls flat even to my ears. He has to help himself. I know this but still the knot of tension cranks even higher. “I’ll just pay it off. And then we’ll move on.”

She takes a beat, like she’s being careful with her words. “Do you think paying it off is going to solve it?”

But I’m barely listening to her. “Actually, I can take care of everything right now. I don’t know why I didn’t do this beforehand.” Except maybe I’m turning soft. Like I was last night when Brady played me better by having Iris hum along. I can’t keep missing opportunities because I’m distracted. “Why don’t I call Desert Springs and pay off whatever he owes them? I’m sure he owes them something.”

I grab my phone and immediately start googling the phone number for Desert Springs Casino. I’m about to hit call when Fable’s hand comes down on mine. She’s not gentle. She’s firm and crystal clear as she says, “Look at me.”

I’m not used to people talking to me that way. It catches my attention and I look up. “What? Why?”

She looks me straight in the eyes. “You don’t have to fix it. I’m sorry it’s happening. But you might not be able to solve it, and you also don’t have to solve it.”

She’s so calm, but I’m like a washing machine on a vigorous spin cycle that shakes the entire house.

“But I do,” I insist because that knot in my chest is getting tighter.

“Don’t you see what you’re doing? You keep bailing him out,” she says, her words cutting me to the core.

“He’s my dad,” I say.

“I know, and I’m just looking out for you.”

“You don’t get it,” I bite out.

She inches away from me on the couch but she doesn’t back down. “Just because it’s not my experience doesn’t mean I don’t understand it. You’ve told me about it. And I understand people. What I’m trying to say is if you feel you need to go look for him, that’s fine. If you want to leave here and go to Vegas to find him, I get that. But I don’t think you should pay off his debt.”

She’s quiet for a long moment, perhaps to let me stew on that last comment. But I’m actually stuck on what she said right before.

“You wouldn’t object if I wanted to go?” I ask so I’m clear.

“If that’s what you needed to do, I’d stand by you. If you wanted me to go with you, I would. If you needed to be alone to deal with it, I’d understand.”

This is hypothetical, I tell myself. This is all hypothetical.

But no one has ever said anything like that to me before. No one has ever offered something that selfless. Something so focused on…family.

My heart softens even more for her. Every time I’m with Fable, I fail miserably to get over her. I fail horribly at moving on. I fail awfully at forgetting how much I adore her.

And I don’t know what to do with failure. But relationships always seem to go wrong. And somehow, some way, this one is going to as well. I know it even as I say, “I’m not going to leave. And I’m not going to that casino. And I’m not going to bail him out either.”

At least not today.

“Good. I’m proud of you,” she says.

The knot in me loosens a little bit.

I lift my arm, inviting her close. She slides in, snuggling against me. I whisper in her ear, “I can’t believe you’re up and out here, given how you hate mornings.”

“I had a feeling you needed me.”

I kiss the top of her head. “I did.”

Far too much.