About The Christmas Leap

  Fake romance shouldn’t feel this real…

  Will: I’ve never been with a man.

  Sure, I’ve thought about it. Wondered. Daydreamed. Imagined. But I wasn’t ready to take the leap.

  I have a reputation as a “ladies’ man.” No one has any idea how curious I am about men—not even my openly bi best friend. Make that former best friend. Michael ghosted me, and I have no idea why.

  Michael: The man I love is straight.

  It hurt like hell when I had to distance myself from Will. I’ve tried desperately to grow up and get over him, but my carefully constructed life just fell apart—and Will rushes to my rescue.

  Now we’re pretending to be a couple to impress his boss at a holiday retreat. We’re holding hands and hugging.

  We’re sharing a bed.

  And Will just kissed me.

  Is my best friend falling in love with me after all?

  The Christmas Leap by Keira Andrews is a gay Christmas romance featuring friends to lovers, bi awakening, first times, and of course a happy ending. This standalone takes place in the same universe as The Christmas Deal.

  The Christmas Leap

  BY KEIRA ANDREWS

  The Christmas Leap

  Written and published by Keira Andrews

  Cover by Dar Albert

  Formatting by BB eBooks

  Copyright © 2022 by Keira Andrews

  Kindle Edition

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author or publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  ISBN: 978-1-988260-89-1

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. No persons, living or dead, were harmed by the writing of this book. Any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  About the Book

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  Acknowledgments

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Epilogue

  About The Christmas Deal

  About Flash Rip

  A Note from Keira

  Also by Keira Andrews

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  Many thanks to Leta Blake, Angela O’Connell, Rai, and Samantha for helping make this novel the best it can be. Special thanks also to Scotty Porter for his help with the Scottish lingo and dialogue, and Elaine and Sharna for their Aussie expertise. I appreciate all of you so much!

  Chapter One

  Michael

  There was an old saying about best-laid plans. It was probably Shakespeare, and the point was that no matter how carefully you tried to get your ducks in a row, those little jerks had minds of their own.

  “I can’t break up with him at Christmas!” Jared’s voice rose incredulously.

  Earlier in the day, I’d decided to take the afternoon off work for an early start to two glorious weeks of vacation time over the holidays. After running a few errands, I’d eased open the door of our townhouse to call out to Jared that I’d brought home a surprise—our first Christmas tree together.

  But now I strained to listen over the thudding of my heart.

  It had to be the TV. Sure, it had sounded exactly like Jared’s smooth, slightly nasal voice, but… It couldn’t have been. After working my butt off at making this relationship a success, I couldn’t have overheard my boyfriend talking about breaking up with me.

  Not just my boyfriend—my partner. I wasn’t a kid anymore. Jared and I were partners. Maybe this was a bad joke. Some kind of terrible, out-of-character prank?

  Ho-ho-ho?

  Jared muttered, “I know.” It sounded like he was in the kitchen at the back of the townhouse. The hardwood floor creaked—which drove Jared nuts even though I thought it added charm. Warm light spilled into the hallway, flickering with his shadow as he moved restlessly. I could picture him pacing by the granite-topped island.

  Jared sighed. “There’s no good time to tell him. That’s true. Still. I have to wait until January. He’s so excited about our first Christmas together here. I can’t do it.” A pause. “I know I’m not a Christmas person, but it’s fine. It makes him happy.”

  I stood there clutching the twine-bound tree, my nose full of pine. The paper shopping bag on the bristly outdoor mat beneath my feet contained an artisanal mulled wine kit and chestnuts for roasting. And wait, Jared didn’t like Christmas? I knew he wasn’t a fan of tacky decorations and cheesy songs, but…

  I’d stashed boxes of tasteful gold and silver ornaments that would fit Jared’s minimalist style under the bed yesterday. I knew he wouldn’t like the idea of dropped needles on the floor, so I’d bought the newest automatic watering system for the tree. The trunk of my Hyundai hatchback was crammed with gifts and rolls of the classiest wrapping paper I could find.

  I had planned every detail of our Instagram-worthy Christmas.

  Jared exhaled loudly. “I know, Steph. He must see it coming, right? Unless he’s in denial. Fuck, I hate this.”

  Oh, god. I’d thought everything was perfect, and now it was disintegrating in front of my eyes. Well, my ears. Rigid, I waited for him to say more to his sister.

  I’d always gotten along with Stephanie, or at least I thought I had? She was only looking out for Jared, and it wasn’t about me. That didn’t make it hurt less.

  And okay, perfect was a strong word for my relationship with Jared. But everything was pretty good, wasn’t it? I’d been so careful since I moved into the townhouse to keep everything running smoothly. All the experts said compromise was key, and I’d compromised like a champion, hadn’t I?

  “It’s only another couple of weeks. I’ll tell him in the new year.” A pause. “I know.” Another pause. “Steph, I couldn’t do it before because we went to Tampa to visit his folks for Thanksgiving. We had plane tickets, and they took us to Universal. And yes, I hate theme parks, but I couldn’t back out.”

  I tasted acid. I’d been so proud to show off Jared to my parents. Proof that I was indeed a responsible adult now, and they didn’t have to worry about me or lend me money. They could live their best retired lives.

  For too long in my twenties, I’d drifted. Working okay jobs with no future for advancement. Dating okay people while nursing my impossible crush. I had a steady office job now with benefits, and my impossible crush was a hundred percent over.

  Gripping the teetering Christmas tree, I braced for thoughts of Will, which were the last thing I needed. Will was straight. He was never going to love me back. I’d had to put distance between us—at least while I got over him. I’d made a plan, grown up, and figured out my life. I was no longer in love with my best friend.

  Whether Will was still my best friend was another story, but my hands were full with problems at the moment, including being stabbed by pine needles through my thin gloves as I fought to stay quiet while keeping the Christmas tree vertical.

  Jared groaned. “I was hoping… I don’t know. That it would all magically work out. Of course, I should have ended it months ago.”

  Months?!

  I’d only moved into the townhouse in March. Which meant Jared had decided humiliatingly quickly that he didn’t want me to stay. We’d dated for more than a year before living together. I’d been so freaking careful not to jump into anything. Should I have seen this coming? Had I? My head spun, and I clung to the tree.

  “I just feel so sorry for him.”

  I jerked violently—then scrambled to keep hold of the tipping tree. Needles clawed my cheek as I tripped backward.

  See above, re: best-laid plans.

  Kicking over the fancy paper bag on my way down, I hit the shoveled stoop, my jeans offering no protection and my peacoat not much more. Glass smashed on the freezing concrete.

  The tree pinning me, I sank back in defeat, my head perilously close to the edge of the top step. The jagged granules of rock salt I’d sprinkled over the walkway that morning dug into my skull.

  Jared appeared in the open doorway wearing his favorite dress pants and black silk sweater, a furrow between his thin brows before they shot up. “Babe! Are you okay?”

  I nodded, struggling to retain a shred of dignity. Jared hauled the tree off me, his handsome face transforming into a familiar smile as he laughed and cracked some joke I couldn’t make out over the buzzing in my ears.

  My throat swelled painfully, tears burning my eyes. If I hadn’t just overheard him, I wouldn’t have had a damn clue anything was wrong. I was so stupid. I’d had no idea he wanted to break up with me. That he didn’t love me anymore. God, did he not love me?

  Do
I love him? Or did I only want to love him?

  “Mike? Shit, babe. You are hurt.”

  Choking down a scream/shout/sob, I pushed myself up to sitting while Jared wrangled the tree into the narrow foyer. When he turned back, his eyes bugged out.

  “Jesus! Are you bleeding?” He lunged out the door in his Italian leather slippers. Dropping to his knees, he groped my left thigh, and I blinked down at the dark stain on my jeans.

  “Wine,” I croaked. “Careful—you’ll get it on your pants.”

  Jared pressed a hand to his chest, seeming to notice the red-soaked paper bag for the first time. The wine had sloshed all over the stoop, and my hip was wet with it.

  He exhaled noisily. “You gave me a heart attack. I don’t care about my pants.”

  “There’s broken glass.”

  He ignored that. “You’re sure you’re okay? What happened to your face?”

  I dodged his hand, squirming away and almost sliding backward down the handful of steps to the tiny front yard where I’d proudly planted a row of petunias that had lived half the summer. I swiped at my smooth cheek—now scratched to hell.

  My blond facial hair grew patchy on my pale skin and took forever, so I’d learned to lean into my baby face. Maybe it would scar, and I’d finally look thirty and not like I was still in college. Swipes of blood stained my gray gloves.

  Jared reached for me again. “You’re hurt. Let me help you.”

  “What do you care?” I half shouted, cringing at my patheticness. Was that a word? If it wasn’t, it should have been.

  “Babe, what’s—” He blinked, glancing back at the open door. His concern morphed with resignation to form a sad, defeated expression. “How much did you hear?”

  I shrugged, ignoring the flare of pain in my shoulder blade. “Enough.”

  Jared rubbed his face, his stubble scratching audibly before he ran his hands through his gelled brown hair. Somehow, it still looked only artfully out of place. He was rarely messy. It was one of his wonderfully mature qualities I’d been attracted to.

  He muttered, “Shit, babe. I didn’t want it to be like this. Especially not at Christmas.” He carefully stood and stepped back over the broken glass to the beige interior welcome mat, rubbing his slippers on it. “Let’s talk inside. It’s freezing.” He reached out his hand.

  I let him haul me up and inside the foyer, where the pine took up almost the whole space. I stopped on the mat, the door still open behind me. Jared shifted from foot to foot, crossing and uncrossing his arms.

  “Why?” I asked, the single word scraping my throat.

  Deep down, I knew the answer, didn’t I?

  Jared blinked back tears. “It’s not you, I swear. You’re great. But it was a mistake to move in together. I should have known better.” He held up his palms. “Again, not because of you. Because of me. I love living alone. But like I said, you’re great, so I wanted to try.” He sighed. “It’s not working for me. We’re not working. We rushed it.”

  “We didn’t! We were together for more than a year. We didn’t jump into this without thinking. There was a plan.”

  “Was there, though? You got evicted by that shitty landlord that sold to a developer, and I thought it was time to stretch my boundaries and get out of my comfort zone.” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I really like you, but…”

  “Like. Not love.” My mouth flooded with saliva. I was going to hurl all over our scotch pine. Though not ours now. There was no more us and we and ours. Just like that.

  He dropped his arms to his sides. “I wanted to love you. Honestly.”

  All I could do was nod. It would be too humiliating to sob.

  Evidently having hoarded these words for months, they spilled out of Jared now. “I really do like you! But we don’t quite fit. Come on—you have to know that. We don’t like the same kind of music or TV shows. I hate that true crime shit you’re addicted to.”

  “So we compromise!” I shouted with a burst of frustration. “Haven’t we compromised?”

  “Yes!” He stood straighter, fisting his hands. “We compromise on everything. Don’t we deserve to get what we really need? What we really want?” He opened and closed his mouth a few times, sputtering before blurting, “I mean, we both like to get fucked! You can’t stand there and tell me we’ve ever really clicked in bed even though we were really attracted to each other at first.”

  My face was so hot my cheeks had to be bright red. God, did we have to talk about this? “I told you I don’t mind topping. It’s fine.”

  And it was! It wasn’t like I didn’t get off. I’d penetrated plenty of my exes. Giving other people what they needed did turn me on. Maybe not quite as much as some other stuff did, but that was okay. It was!

  His mouth tugged down, and his voice turned pleading. “You shouldn’t be settling for ‘fine.’ And if it was only about sex, sure, we could talk about options for an open relationship. But it’s about everything being ‘fine.’ As much as I care about you, ‘fine’ isn’t enough. I don’t want to settle.”

  I really was going to puke.

  “Haven’t I done everything you want?” I cringed at how small I sounded. How young.

  Jared exhaled, his face creasing like he was in pain. “Yes. You’re so sweet and generous, and you’ve bent over backwards for me. At first, I thought you were my dream come true. You’re the most caring and thoughtful guy I’ve ever dated.”

  “Then what did I do wrong?” I was practically begging.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong. But catering to my whims isn’t healthy. I feel like you’re walking on eggshells trying to keep me happy. Trying to be this perfect version of yourself. You’re too…careful. It makes me feel like shit. Like I can’t be real with you. Ba—” He cut himself off. “Mike—”

  “I hate being called ‘Mike,’” I blurted. He wanted real? There.

  He blinked. “What?”

  “My name is Michael.”

  “But everyone calls you Mike.” He stared, eyes wide. “Why the hell didn’t you say something?”

  All I could do was shrug. “I’m used to it.”

  “See, this is the problem! You settle all over the place!” Groaning, Jared shook his head. “Fuck, I hate saying this to you. Which is why I’ve been putting it off. Also, because it’s Christmas, and I know it’s a big deal to you to do the cozy, snowy, traditional thing.”

  “It’s not a big deal,” I insisted reflexively.

  Jared looked down pointedly at the fallen tree at our feet. “Tell me you weren’t planning on decorating and taking pics of us in cable-knit sweaters sipping cocoa and pretending we don’t have any problems.”

  “I just thought it would be nice!”

  “Because you actually love Christmas or because you want everything to look perfect on Insta?”

  I flinched. As much as I wanted to argue, I couldn’t.

  “We need to face facts,” Jared said more firmly. “We can’t settle. You’re thirty, and I’m thirty-three. We can’t coast along in a relationship that’s not working. I think we really liked the idea of us. The reality? Not so much.”

  All I could do was nod.

  He shivered. “Shut the door. Come on, let’s talk this out.”

  What else was there to say? Broken glass crunched under my boots on the landing and chestnuts rolled down the steps as I escaped, leaving my now ex-boyfriend—ex-partner—a nine-foot organic scotch pine, and the life I’d wanted so desperately to be mine in my wake.

  “Mike?”

  I would have hit the roof of the hatchback—not hard to do since there were only a few inches of clearance—if I hadn’t been wearing my seatbelt.

  Cursing myself for spacing out, I focused on Zoe squinting at me from the bungalow’s porch. She wore fluffy Ugg boots but no coat, holding her cardigan closed at her throat, the icy wind blowing her dark curls into her eyes.

  Zoe’s muffled voice came again as she called, “Mike? Is that you?”

  The key was still in the ignition, but Zoe was already picking her way down the slick driveway. It sloped just enough to be treacherous in the winter, which I’d learned the hard way more than once back in the day when I’d lived here with Zoe and Will and a few roommates.