The Perfect Present Read online

  THE PERFECT PRESENT

  BLURB

  Jess Hart is supposed to have everything. The bustling, international home designer career. The charming and extremely sexy British boyfriend. The looks and guts to make it in a world foreign to her.

  But when everything comes crashing down, Jess has nowhere else to turn.

  She has to go home for Christmas.

  There, she must run into the boy she dumped in order to make a path for her own future. And she finds herself trying to win his heart all over again, despite her best intentions.

  Rudy Steele decided to make something of himself after his high school girlfriend--the girl everyone told him he was supposed to marry--decided she wanted to study abroad instead. Recently out of medical school, he’s back in town only to call for his ailing aunt, who raised him. He intends to get out of town as soon as he can so he can go back to advancing his career.

  But when he runs into Jess Hart--just as beautiful and smart as ever--he must make a choice. Can he let go of the past and focus on... The Perfect Present?

  PROLOGUE

  2008

  RUDY

  “Did you finish your applications?” My father asked.

  He was sitting in a booth across from me, a tall, stout man, who looked every bit his age. I was a late-in-life baby and my mother had little interest in me. I was always surprised when my father seemed to.

  I slurped on my shake and nodded. “Yeah,” I said once I swallowed down the gulp of vanilla and chocolate milkshake.

  “Good,” he replied. “It’s better this way. You’ll start earning money in no time, and soon, you’ll be able to buy a ring for that pretty girlfriend of yours. That is still the plan, right?”

  I nodded again, mostly because I didn’t want to get into a discussion about my girlfriend and how complicated things had gotten with us lately. I was going to be an HVAC technician, and her plan had originally been to go to the community college forty minutes away in order to become a dental hygienist. We were going to buy a little house, fifteen minutes away from our corner of Mount Sterkan, just on top of the hill. Not too close to her family, not too close. It was what we had discussed all through school, but when she graduated, she had begun to pull away. I knew something had happened, but I didn’t want to ask. I didn’t dare to ask.

  Jess was the best thing that had happened to me. I was barely eighteen, and I already knew I would never be able to do any better than her. She was beautiful, and smart, and she was always ready to joke around. Being kind of a nerd, I was surprised I had managed to bag someone like her. I wanted to keep it like that, but I understood that Jess was way out of my league.

  I had seen her around the hallways before I had asked her out. She had long brown hair which she wore parted in the middle. It was really straight, and unlike the other girls in our school, she never seemed to have much time to curl it or do much with it. We had moved right next to each other when I was a freshman. I had walked her to school for months before I managed to ask her out. She had said yes, which had surprised me, and we had become a quiet power couple. All because of her.

  But things had changed. Something had happened when we had graduated, like her plans had changed, but she hadn’t spoken to me. And I didn’t want to ask her. I didn’t, because I didn’t want to hear that I was right.

  As if on cue, as if she knew I was thinking about her, she walked into the diner. She met my gaze, hesitated for a second, then smiled and waved at me. My father craned his neck, and he smiled. He took a twenty dollar bill out of his wallet, put it on the table, and stood up. “Have fun, kid,” he said. “Don’t get anyone pregnant.”

  I tried to smile at him, but it was hard. He barely took any notice. Jess said hello to him and then sat down in the booth across from me. I tried for a smile, again, but this time, she didn’t even try to smile back.

  “I thought you’d be at home,” she said.

  I shook my head. “I’m not.”

  “I know. I can see that.”

  “Have you been trying to call me?”

  She chewed the inside of her mouth, something she only did when she was nervous. She shook her head before she spoke. “Your phone is never on.”

  I nodded. That was true, but mostly it was just because it was so shitty. It ran out of battery so quick. I waited for her to say something else, but she didn’t.

  She just looked away.

  I cleared my throat. “Listen, Jess--”

  “Rudy--”

  “You go,” I said. “Please.”

  She cleared her throat, tucking a strand of light brown hair behind her ear. “Rudy,” she said. “I’ve been thinking about things a lot and I...”

  I bit my lower lip. I knew exactly what was coming, but she wasn’t going to say it. She wasn’t mean. She was never mean. She wasn’t doing this because she wanted to, I knew that.

  She had to do this. And she desperately wanted me to tell her that it was okay. Right then, I knew that was what she wanted, and I wanted to give it to her. Because, despite everything else, I knew who Jessica Hart was.

  That was why I did what I did next, though it went against every instinct in my body, against everything I wanted to do. “I get it,” I said. “I’ve been thinking about it too.”

  My voice was an octave higher than it normally was, but it wasn’t breaking, and there was something to be said for that. If nothing else.

  She looked at me for a while, her expression hardening. “You have?”

  “Yes,” I replied. It was a lie, and it sounded like a lie, but maybe it didn’t. Not to her. “This isn’t working.”

  “What?”

  “It’s not working, Jess,” I said. “You need to move on.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. I watched her open and shut it a few times, before she shook her head, and tears welled up in her ears. “That’s not fair.”

  “You’re right,” I said, standing up. “Have a good life, Jess.”

  After that, I didn’t look back. Not even once.

  CHAPTER ONE

  JESS

  This was supposed to be the perfect Christmas. I was going to spend it in London, drinking cider and mead with Harry’s family, looking outside the window at the snowflakes falling on the concrete streets. But no. There would be no English Christmas for me. My Christmas was going to be spent with a family that I had desperately tried to get away from—not because there was anything wrong with them-- talking about things I didn’t want to talk about. I was supposed to be the towns ambassador in a different country. All I had managed to do was disappoint.

  This had never been the plan. When I went abroad, when I decided to make my name is a designer, I never thought I would actually find somebody. But Harry was nice to me even though I was stumbling my way in a firm that was too big and impersonal, in one of the biggest buildings in London. I missed my house, and missed my car, and my cat. I miss… him. Well, no. Not really. I don’t miss him, because I know he’s not going to be there. I miss the memory of something that was never meant to work out.

  I miss what he could’ve been. He was never a good boyfriend, but at least he was a warm body.

  I shake my head as I look out the airplane window. I also knew that this was a stepping stone. Make it big. Come home. Help my parents redo their house. Finally inject some more money into our last name. Take over the family’s fortune and make it big. We used to be a respected family in our town, but even my parents’ positions weren’t able to shelter us from the recession. They tried, but there was nothing they could do when it came to failing tourism and the waning interest on our tiny little psychic town.

  Right before a recession, when people are about to start losing their jobs,
little psychic towns like ours get a surge in visits. People are uncertain. They want to know what the future holds. They need to know whether to keep your job, or if they need to take out a second mortgage on their house. When the recession happens, they don’t show up again. They know what their destiny is, they don’t need a psychic to tell them that things are messed up.

  I squirreled my money away because I lived through that. I knew exactly all is going to happen, not because I’m psychic, just because I am a planner. That’s what makes me a good designer. I think of everything, all of my client’s needs. That’s what brought me to London. But you can’t stay in London just because you are a good designer, there is paperwork to consider. Visas. Green cards. All sorts of red tape. Things that I thought were going to be sorted when Harry proposed. Ha! As if. Harry was never going to propose to me. I was just a warm body, too; somebody he could take to parties that people would talk about. The American girl in the little black dress. God, it makes me feel so gross to think about it.

  Now I am on a plane, going home, thinking about how hot it is going to be. We don’t get white Christmases in Cassadaga, Florida. It gets a little colder, sure, but it only calls for wearing a jacket instead of a tank top. It’s definitely not the most wintery Christmas. I look outside the window, and feel a pit grow in my stomach as the plane touches down on the runway. I take my headphones off and hear the rumbling of the wheels on the asphalt. It makes the little bit of nausea I was already feeling worse. I tune out the captain, who is talking about how we need to wait to get out of the plane. I don’t mind waiting. I want to wait until everyone has left this plane.

  I stretch when the man next to me finally leaves his chair. The international flight was about nine hours long, and I couldn’t help but want to stretch it out. I told myself to be brave, then go in line behind a chatting family. They were excited to go to Disney. I can’t help but smile when I hear them talk about it, but soon they’re out of the plane, and I’m slowly making my way through customs.

  Transatlantic travel is exhausting, I think, as I step out and look at the crowd of people waiting. I finally spot my mother, who is standing by herself and looking at her phone. She must be waiting on a text message from me, I think, as I make my way toward her. “Momma!” I say, throwing my arms around her.

  “Jessie!” She squeezes me back, then furrows her nose. “You smell”

  “It’s been a long flight,” I say, throwing my arms protectively around myself. “Where’s Daddy?”

  “He couldn’t come, sweetheart,” she says, looking me up and down. “Some sort of business deal. Very important. He tried to move it, but you know what the board is like.”

  “I know. Daddy is always trying to save the town. So where did you park?”

  ***

  It was late by the time we get back into town. There are barely any street lights around and I have kept nodding in and out of sleep ever since we had been on the freeway. My mom had tried to update me on everything that was happening in town, but I am too tired to hear about all the new mediums in town. I opened my eyes as we approached my childhood home.

  “Why are there fairy-lights all around the house?” I ask.

  “It’s Christmas,” my mom says. “We always decorate the house during Christmas.”

  “I know, but it’s usually a little…”

  “What? Less tacky?”

  “I was going to say different,” I reply.

  She smiles as she pulls into our driveway. “A lot of things are different,” she says. “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “In the morning,” I reply, putting my head on her shoulder and neglect to tell her that she has, in fact, already started. “I’m exhausted, Momma.”

  “I know. Listen, in the morning, we’ll go out for brunch at the hotel. You don’t have to worry about getting your bags from the car, there are some clothes in your bedroom, and you can use my things to get ready for bed.”

  “Thanks,” I say. “You’re the best.”

  “We’re just glad you’re here,” she says.

  I stiffen a little and sit up. “I’m glad I’m here,” I reply. At least it doesn’t sound like a lie.

  CHAPTER TWO

  JESS

  We’re going to brunch at midday, but I decide to get my stuff from the car early in the morning. I’m jet lagged and it feels like I haven’t slept for days. I haven’t even been able to focus on the book I’ve been trying to read for what feels like forever. I peak out the window. It doesn’t look that hot outside, so I decide to grab my pink flip-flops and make my way to my mom’s car. I sneak downstairs, because I don’t want to wake my parents up. The house is old and creaky, but I stay close to the bannister and walk downstairs slowly, like I did when I was a teenager and used to sneak out of the house.

  Not that I did it that often.

  I take my mom’s keys out of the bowl on the accent table in the foyer and practically run outside. The wood on the porch is slightly wet but I don’t notice as it squeaks under me. I don’t notice when my sandal bends into itself and sends me stumbling forward. I try to catch myself but don’t manage to do anything except get a bit more momentum and stumble right into the wet porch. I don’t break my fall at all. My knee lands into the wet wood first, and I watch with horror as it splinters into the inside of my parents’ porch.

  After that, I’m not sure exactly what happens. All I know is that my leg is stuck halfway down what seemed to be a long wooden shaft. The first thought that comes into my head is whether there are any animals down there. There’s no light, and the hole my leg has made barely has enough space for me to wiggle, so I can’t see. It’s not an unreasonable assumption to make, though all I feel on my leg is cold wind.

  There’s no pain. At least not at first. The only thoughts in my head seem to be snakes and mice, but I tell myself that I don’t have time to worry about it. I need to get out. I have to.

  I try to move my leg up, but I’m stuck. I press my hands down on the wooden porch, hoping it’ll stay exactly where it is, and try to pull my body up. It doesn’t make a difference. I’m stuck, well and truly, and I don’t know if there’s any way for me to get out.

  I swallow. It’s so early in the morning, and as I look around, I know that there’s no one around me. When I tried to get out again, biting my lower lip, that was when the pain hit me. My eyes water as my entire body spasms, stopping me from being able to get out.

  I give up after a minute of trying. I realize I’m not going to be able to get out of this predicament. I feel like I should’ve been able to predict that, but there was no way I could’ve known, I tell myself.

  I open my eyes again and try to breath slowly. I need to find a solution. I reach my hand down to see if I can find my phone, but of course, my phone is still inside. I wasn’t going to take it outside just so I could get the rest of my things from the car. My phone is charging in my childhood room, on the nightstand I used when I was a child.

  I’m sure there’s something ironic about that, but there’s not much time to think about it. I can focus on it later, once I get out of this situation. At least that’s my hope. I wiggle my toes, making sure that they still work. I’m lucky that they do. I can feel my feet, so that’s something, at least.

  It seems like a good sign. I hope it’s a good sign.

  I try to pull myself up again, but it doesn’t work. I’m not able to. I groan, frustrated at how unsuccessful I’ve been. I swallow and lick my lips before I open my mouth.

  “Mom? Dad?” I scream, as loud as I can.

  I know it’s probably pointless. They aren’t going to be able to hear me. My mom sleeps like the dead and my dad wears earplugs and a mask to bed. He needs to block the rest of the world out, otherwise, he doesn’t get a wink of sleep. I don’t mind that, I’m just a little annoyed that it seems to be affecting me right now.

  I need help. That much is clear. There’s no one around me and I have no idea how I’m supposed to get it. Screaming does
n’t seem to be getting me anywhere, though I’ve done it over and over again. I wriggle and writhe my legs, but it doesn’t work. It just makes the pain worse.

  I close my eyes and take a few deep breaths. I can’t help but wonder how stuck I am and if I’m going to live the rest of my life here. My dad always says I have a flair for the dramatic and I guess he’s not technically wrong. But how can I not be dramatic right now? I’m stuck. I’m helpless. I can’t fucking move an inch and there is no one around me who can help me for miles.

  No one seems to be able to hear me and I don’t know when my parents are going to wake up. If I didn’t feel so helpless, perhaps I could even see the funny side, but there’s nothing funny about this right now. I am stuck, properly, seriously stuck, and there is no way for me to get out. I scream again but I know that there’s no way to make my voice heard. I know that. Still, it is doing something, which is better than nothing, my only other option.

  I’m thinking about doing something else--anything else--when I see headlights coming toward me. Someone who might be able to put me out of my misery. Finally.

  I try to ease my body forward in the porch and wave my waves as if I’m in the ocean, frantically waving around. “Help!” I say. “Please help me!”

  The car turned left and for a second, I feel very nauseous. There’s no way to know if the person in the car has seen me.

  I think they might have been driving away. I keep waving my arms, hoping that they are able to see me, that they aren’t just leaving. Then again, it sort of makes sense. They probably don’t want to deal with something that looks a little crazy, someone that looks a little crazy. Like me.

  I am wrong. I watch them turn back and drive toward me. They turn the ignition off, then the headlights.

  Then they open the driver door of their late-model Nissan Altima. It is one of those fancy but not too fancy cars, something that doesn’t stand out in our small town. I am only focused on the car because I don’t want to think about the pain I’m in. It has gotten worse. The shock has worn off and now all I can focus on is the pain. I can feel everything now, the way the wood is biting into my skin and the way my leg is dangling, my body tilted to one side so that all my weight is on my hip. My leg is throbbing and painful and I was trying to ignore the splinters pressing into my leg.