Purely Unconditional: A Romantic Tale of Snow Days and Second Chances (2 page)

“I’m not a roller coaster fan.”

“Who didn’t see that coming?”

With a sigh, I lean my head against the coach. “I
wouldn’t even know where to start. Change my life?”

“You’re not changing it. You’re just adding to
it.”

“Yeah, still don’t know where to start.”

Layla reaches out for a cupcake but right when she’s
about to take one, she suddenly stops. She moves Denny Crane from
her lap and gently sets him down. Then she bolts up so fast she
nearly knocks herself over.

“Layla?”

Without a word, she heads into the dining room. I
lean forward and watch her root through the mess of papers and
books.

“I need a blank piece of paper. And a pen.”

I stand and walk in. Denny Crane hops up on a chair,
his big eyes shining with barely concealed disdain at being so
easily discarded.

“Here,” I say, grabbing a blank piece of neon green
computer paper and a red pen.

Layla takes it and sits.

“What are you doing?”

No answer except the sound of the pen scratching on
the page. Okay. I go around her and peer over her shoulder.

Glory’s 12 Challenges of Christmas

“Are you kidding?”

“Nope. Number one.” As she writes, I’m already
shaking my head. She continues to write, chuckling as she does so
in a way I don’t like. Like she’s plotting my demise.

With a sigh, I plop myself on a chair and rest my
chin in hand, elbow on the table. “I was thinking I’d just take a
class or something.”

“Oh, you will.”

“You know I don’t like doing things I’m uncomfortable
with. Now you want me to do twelve of them?”

“Exactly the point. You’ve got to get out of your
comfort zone, and the only way to do that is to do things that make
you uncomfortable.” She glances up. “It’s a vicious cycle.”

“Would you ever do something like this?”

She grins. “I’d
rock
something like this. And
you will, too, so don’t be scared.” She stops writing and looks at
me. “You want to know how I’m changing my life? I never stop
dreaming. I never stop planning or hoping or knowing tomorrow is
another day I can keep on trying. I take chances and now you have
to, too.”

“I feel like this will end in nothing but
embarrassment and a very long text message to you at a very late
hour.”

She snort-laughs. “Sorry, you’re not talking me out
of this.”

“Talking you out? Last I checked, it was my name on
the top of that page.”

“You’ve got to do this, Glory. You’ve got to take a
chance and rediscover your magic.”

I groan and laugh all at the same time. “That’s so
corny.”

She shrugs. “It’s Christmas.” Like a doctor writing a
prescription, she puts the cap on her pen and folds the paper in
half. She holds it out to me. “And it’s Sunday. So spend the rest
of the day vegging out and just taking time for yourself. Don’t
think you have to dive into this all at once, right this moment.
Relax today. And then tomorrow, you can officially start your
challenges.”

I put my hands on my cheeks.
Glory’s 12 Challenges
of Christmas.
So ridiculous and yet…the more I think about it,
the more I sort of, kind of…like it? It does sound fun. And new.
And different. A hum starts going off in my body, as if my blood is
finally starting to pump again and my brain is finally starting to
buzz. It sounds like what I need.

“I can’t believe I’m actually going to do this.”

“I can. Want to know why?”

“I’m a glutton for punishment?”

“Because inside that quiet exterior of yours is an
extraordinary girl just dying to get out. Let her. Let people see
the real you, the you that I know, who’s smart and compassionate
and so funny you make me cry. You
want
to get on that roller
coaster. You
need
to get on that roller coaster.”

I lean away from her. “Okay, Jack Nicholson. Settle
down. I can handle the truth.”

She grins. Then: “You want to go through life wearing
beige all the time?”

I snatch the paper away with a smile. But then: “I’m
no good at challenges.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you have twelve of them.”
She smiles. “Practice makes perfect.”

Chapter Two

Make Up, Shake Up, and Jack Brandes

Glory’s Twelve Challenges of Christmas

1. Wear high heels to work. And jewelry. Express
yourself! You’re twenty-nine and have legs for days. Show ‘em off,
honey!

2. Sign up for a class. Expand your horizons.

3 Compliment ten random strangers. Be sincere!

4. Go to a museum and talk to five guys. Dust off
those flirting skills! And no, you cannot combine this with number
3. Up the ante!

5. Speaking of up…update your wardrobe! Buy stuff
with colors and sequins. Buy an expression tee and wear it! Buy a
push up bra and let the ba-zingas do the talking!

6. Bake with tofu. Try something new.

7. Watch a bunch of scary movies. Push beyond your
comfort zone!

8. Attend a ballroom dancing class. I’ve seen the
many episodes of Dancing with the Stars on your DVR. You obviously
love it, so give it a whirl (See what I did there?) And no, you
cannot combine this challenge with number 2.

9. Go to a bar and stay out until midnight.

10. Walk around naked. I know this sounds weird
coming from me, but get back in touch with your body and your
sexuality. Hmm, even when I explain it, it still sounds so
weird.

11. Karaoke

12. Volunteer somewhere, put yourself in a situation
with lots of kids or people around. Expose yourself to more crowds.
Not literally. Do NOT combine this with number 10.

My list is in front of me, concealed by a folder,
giving the impression to all my coworkers that I am reading work
notes as opposed to my twelve challenges. And as they walk into the
conference room for the usual Monday morning meeting, people are
definitely looking. Paige Carter, the lead officer in the financial
department, did a double-take so comical it should’ve been in an I
Love Lucy episode.

“Wow,” she had said. She leaned over the table and
got real close, as close as she could, like she couldn’t believe it
was me. “Your hair...and your make up…geez, you look so different.
Incredible.”

I blushed under her scrutiny. She asked if I was
wearing false lashes, to which I replied no. She nodded, impressed,
and let loose another stream of compliments. They were nice, of
course, but it caused even more coworkers to stop and stare.

“Nice hair, Glory!”

“You look fantastic.”

“That lipstick makes your eyes look so green!”

“Where’d you buy that top? It’s beautiful!”

I smiled and tried to accept their kind words without
grimacing. It wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate what they were
saying. I definitely did! It’s just hard to go from being
practically invisible to being the center of everyone’s attention.
Even my boss, Lana Guisey, pulled up short and gave me this
demi-smile as if to say
well done.
Well, I suppose that’s
what I get for dressing like I’ve never dressed before—at least at
work. Gone are my black pants and beige tops, my beige pants and
black tops. Now, I’m wearing a wedding-white button-down shirt with
delicate gold buttons tucked into cobalt blue pants with a thin
gold belt to match my thick gold bracelet and my small gold hoop
earrings. (The color of the day is gold.) And as much as Layla
wanted me to relax yesterday, I was feeling way too jazzed up to
just sit back. Instead, I took myself to Nicolina’s on King’s
Square and asked for the works: eye brows waxed and shaped; nails
buffed and manicured; a crash course on how to apply makeup to best
highlight my face. And when I told Nicolina to trim my split ends,
she not only cut about seven inches, she dyed and highlighted my
hair, too. When she turned me around in the chair to face the
mirror, my own jaw dropped. I barely recognized myself. Gone was
the mousy brown, wet-noodle hair that hung low past my shoulders.
In its place was a crisp cut a little longer than chin-length. My
natural curls bounced up as if they could finally move after so
much dead weight had been hacked off. And the color…ruby, maroon,
scarlet and wine. Every gorgeous shade I was always too afraid of
using, Nicolina not only used, but used with gusto. I felt like a
million bucks. If this was how these challenges would go down, I
was ready and willing to try every single one of them.

Discreetly as I can, I cross off the very first item
on my list. It feels damn good. As the meeting is called to order,
I quickly shove my list behind my legal pad.

“Sorry I’m late.”

And just like that, the conference room, able to hold
a mahogany table that can sit 16 around it, a coffee bar and a
little buffet, is suddenly as tiny as an intern’s cubicle. Jack
Brandes, simply by walking in, has taken up every square inch.

“Traffic was hideous and—”

His eyes widen as he meets my gaze. His hand, which
is on the back of the only chair left (coincidentally right across
from me), stills. In fact, though it sounds crazy, I think
everything
stills. I’m certainly not breathing.

Jack Brandes. He’s like a teen heartthrob that grew
up really,
really
well.. Brown hair, blue eyes, slender.
He’s wearing a white button down with the sleeves rolled up (which
I happen to know is his lucky court shirt), and black slacks (which
I happen to know are his lucky court pants). His jacket is probably
draped haphazardly over the back of his chair, like always. The
thin straps of his black suspenders make his shoulders look broad
as hell. He’s not the top attorney or even the oldest in the legal
department (in fact, at twenty-seven, he’s the youngest) but he’s
certainly the most popular. Judges, juries, clients and coworkers
all love him. And he’s staring at me. Not breathing. Or is it me
that’s not breathing?

Lana says his name. I don’t think he hears her. It’s
only after someone else clears his throat that Jack finally shakes
himself out of it. With a dazed sort of expression, he pulls out
his chair and sits. Sets his files down. Grabs a pen. Turns his
attention to Lana as she goes over the usual notes. I focus on her
too, but in my peripheral, I see Jack’s gaze return to me.

My face heats. I quickly glance over at him. He
quickly looks back to Lana. Damn, I should’ve cut my hair
sooner.

“Glory? Glory?”

I snap my attention to Lana. She’s staring at me
expectantly. My mouth goes dry as all eyes turn to me. Including
Jack’s.

“I’m sorry,” I say, my voice hardly traveling in the
cavernous room. “I was…I didn’t hear you.”

Lana gives me a look. “Updates. I want your
updates.”

I nod, then I launch into the newest batch of clients
that have signed up with us over the last few days. I then mention
an ongoing case that now needs to be transferred to legal because
his social security just isn’t getting approved. With almost
shaking hands, I hand the file over to Jack. He accepts it with a
small, secret smile. And when Lana moves on and everyone swivels in
their chair to look at her, he turns his head just enough for me to
know he’s looking at me. I look at him. And that’s when he
winks.

I nearly laugh aloud. I feel like a just got tickled,
which makes me want to laugh even more because how corny can I get?
Jack opens the client file I handed him. And that’s when I see
it.

Neon green paper.

My lips press together; it’s my only recourse. It’s
that or scream so loud that I’d put Luke
Skywalker-just-discovering-Darth-Vader-is-his-father to shame. Oh
kill me. Jack has my list.

****

As with most traumatic things in life, you can only
replay over and over what had happened, how you ended up in the
situation you ended up in. As the meeting drones on for seemingly a
trillion years, I think about how on earth I put my list in the
client folder Jack now has. In my haste to hide it, instead of just
slipping it beneath my legal pad, I must’ve somehow picked up the
front of the folder along with the pad and slipped the paper in
that way.

Maybe it’s not as bad as I’m thinking. Maybe I’ll
sound cool or—

10. Walk around naked.

I know this sounds weird coming from me, but get back
in touch with your body and your sexuality. Hmm, even when I
explain it, it still sounds so weird.

I cringe as I remember that particular gem. He must
think I’m big, fat prude. I should say it’s not mine. I should say
that I have a friend named Glory, too. I should say it’s part of a
short story I’m writing

He glances over at me. I quickly glance away.
Shit.

The meeting
finally
ends. People pack up their
stuff and start filing out. I’m heading straight for Jack when
Paige catches him and asks if she can talk in his office. Without
even a glance my way, he heads out, his files and my list, tucked
under his arm.

Shit.

****

“Thanks for clarifying,” Paige says as she opens his
office door. “I’ll definitely ask Judge White.”

She smiles at me as she goes and after a quick grin,
I head into Jack’s office. Even though I do my best to keep it
together, his door still slams shut. The sound makes me flinch.

“Sorry, it slipped.” I clear my throat. “I need it
back.”

He bats his eyes. “What back?”

“You know what back. The list, Jack, the list.”

“I’m impressed,” he says with a grin. “You didn’t
even try to claim this was your
other
friend Glory’s
list.”

He opens the client folder and holds out my neon
green heart attack. I reach for it but just as I’m about to grab
it, he moves his hand up high. He towers over me anyway, so even
when I rise on tip toe, I still can’t touch it.

“Jack,” I growl, “you are so immature. I don’t have
time for this.”