Page 43 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell

“So, now I don’t get breakfast?” I questioned.

“Of course you do. Addy wanted to make you green eggs and ham,” Jim shrugged.

“That has nothing to do with Christmas,” I said.

“Neither does cheating,” Izzy giggled at their inside joke.

“This isn’t fair,” I answered, sitting at the table. “It’s turning us all against each other.”

“You’re the one doing things to Dad that aren’t cool, Mom,” Addy said.

“Fine. I guess thatwasn’t cool.” I smiled at Jim, “I amsorry. Perhaps I went a bit too far.”

Jim licked his lips and offered me a bite of his pumpkin pancake. “All is forgiven, love,” he winked. “But rest assured, I will come out on top now that you have turned this into a war where trust is no longer present.”

“I really didn’t mean to,” I cringed, not knowing what Jim and the girls were planning behind my back.

“Right,” Addy rolled her eyes.

“Can we at least call a truce today so we can decorate our tree and the Malibu house like we’d planned?”

“We’re going to a Christmas tree lot,” Izzy said with excitement.

“For your party?” I looked at Jim. “Cat has already planned to bring in?—”

“Flyin,” he interrupted me. “And, yes, I know, thousands of evergreens from Aspen. That’s not why we’re going.”

“We want our own real tree this year,” Addy said, still devouring her pumpkin pancakes that looked and smelled so damn delicious my stomach was growling.

Jim pushed over his plate to me, drizzled hot syrup over the top, and kissed my forehead before standing up. “Eat those while I get your coffee, love,” he said, walking toward the espresso machine.

At least the fight hadn’t lasted long, but the guilt trip that was hanging over the air of our table was so thick you could cut it with a knife.

“That actually sounds lovely,” I smiled. “For the beach house?”

“For here,” Izzy said. “Doesn’t that sound like fun?”

“Of course, Izzy,” I answered, taking my coffee from Jim. “So, what are we doing with that tree?”

“Just take it down and put it in storage,” Jim answered casually. “I think it would be a fun, new tradition to do a real tree. The girls brought it to my attention, and I couldn’t turn them down. It’s sort of what our holiday party theme is anyway. A traditional family Christmas.”

“That sounds lovely,” I smiled as I looked down at my coffee.

Okay, something was up. Jim didn’t go so soft this easily, especially when he knew my ass pulled one over on him. He wasdefinitelyplanning a retaliation, and the girls were in on it. Thank God, I had more fun pranks ahead to get him back—and especially since Jake and Collin were on my side in all of this, not his.

So, fine. I’d let him plan to replace our tree with a real one. Have his traditional Christmas party event. Truth was, none of this would even be taking place if my adorable husband didn’t try to pull a Scrooge on his entire company for Christmas this year.

So, let the reindeer games begin, I guess. Because two can play at this game…in fact, I was already ahead of the game with the Dickens lot half built and everything more than ahead of schedule. I had all the time in the world to go pick out real trees to replace the fake ones. So, if that was Jim’s play to get me back for stalling him, then he was still lost in this little Christmas game of love and war.

EIGHTEEN

Jim

The Christmas treelot in Pacific Palisades smelled like cinnamon, pine, and manipulation.

Warm salt air from the coast drifted through the rows of trees, carrying the sound of laughter, the distant bell of the cider stand, and the faint shimmer of a saxophone from a hidden speaker. The glow of string lights flickered against polished car roofs lining the valet lot, throwing reflections like tiny gold coins across the asphalt.

Avery didn’t know it yet, but I’d orchestrated this entire day for one purpose: to stall her.