Season's Greetings : Christmas Box Set

I smirk to hide the smile on my lips as she gazes at Warren with apparent interest.

“What do you think, Monty? Do you like that name?” I pull him back to look up at me. He wags his tail wildly. I take it as his version of yes. “Monty it is.” I busy myself with getting all the essentials necessary, all included in Uncle Warren’s present.

JAMES

“Go home, Jen.”

“Doctor Bailey, I can’t leave you with this mess.” She gestures toward the inventory we’ve yet to put up.

“It’s okay. I can stay late. You’ve got a family to get home to, and a late night waiting for little ones to sleep so Father Christmas can arrive.” A pang of longing hits as I think of her children. I’d often thought I would have my own by now. Life doesn’t always work out the way we’d like it to, though. So here I am in my mid-thirties with a successful practice, but no wife or children in sight.

The brunette cocks her hip and frowns. “You work too hard.”

“The same could be said for you. Go on now. I have no one waiting at home for me. I’ll have this done and close the office in an hour.”

“I’m going.” She points her finger at me. “But note I leave under protest.”

“Noted, Jen.” I smile as she walks toward the office to retrieve her coat. Hitting the remote start, she begins the process of thawing out her car during December in Annapolis, Maryland.

“I can help until my car is warm,” Jen says.

“I appreciate it.”

She nods. Jen is my veteran vet assistant. In her mid-thirties, she’s been at enough offices to know her way around a practice. With love for both animals and their owners, she’s got a real knack for calming anxious owners. She’s been a godsend from the moment she set foot in my practice for an interview. I leaned on her plenty over the years to keep the younger, less experienced vet techs on the right path.

I’d focused all my attention and energy on succeeding in the business. Now I had a list of loyal, local clients, a decent reputation, and a growing practice. I’m at the point where I can hand over some of the control, but I don’t because there’s nothing else for me to do with my time. Most of my friends are coupled and settled down with kids. Which makes our get-togethers few and far between, or uncomfortable as I play the third wheel, or poor sod they’ve decided to pair up again.

The time passes swiftly, and I walk Jen to the door, locking the main entrance behind her. With the supplies replenished, I sanitize the room and turn off the lights. My phone chimes, and I smile at the name appearing on my screen. My brother, Thomas, must be at my mother’s with his family. I try not to feel bitter about my parents’ decision to relocate to the motherland. After all, Thomas was the one to give them not only one grandchild but three with his wife, Angelina.

I answer the duo ap and smile at the face so similar to my own. Thomas’ wheat-colored hair is cropped close to his head, and his wide-set, green eyes identical to our mother’s gleam with mischief and joy. Fatherhood suits him more than I ever could’ve imagined. He’d been a bit of a rolling stone, never settling down or showing an inclination toward wanting the family life until he met Angelina. The sounds of rustling paper and jubilant, tiny voices make my heart swell.

“Jamison, wait for Charlotte,” Angelina fusses in the background. I hear my father’s robust laughter and shake my head.

“Merry Christmas, mate,” Thomas says.

“Merry Christmas. Is the gang all there?”

Thomas’ smile wavers slightly. “Except you.”

“Next year.”

“You said that the year before.”

“Ahh, but this time I mean it. I’ve got the practice settled enough to leave during the holidays without fearing it’ll all come crashing down around my head.”

Thomas chuckles. “I’m going to hold you to that. Wait.” He frowns. “Are you still at the office?”

“I’m actually closed for the day. We got a delayed shipment of supplies in, so I stayed to store them.”

“You work too much, James.” His voice is soft and kind, and I hate it.

“Is that my boy on the line?” my mother asks, saving me from ruining Christmas by spewing the vitriol gathered on my tongue. Seeing the brother who never had an interest in domestication live the life I’ve always dreamt of can be soul-sucking. I swallow down the bitterness and smile as my mother’s face enters the screen.

“Mum.”

“There’s my boy. Happy Christmas.”

“Happy Christmas, Mum.” I see the additional lines around her smile and curse time for moving so fast. When I was younger, my parents seemed eternal. Now I see them aging with every year.