Page 59 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell

“Avery was playing with my reputation,” I chuckled, “and I’m simply going to make her feel as though she’d taken this all too far.”

Titus arched an eyebrow, “What the hell are you planning?”

I leaned back in my chair, “I want to take this down a road where the Mitchells just might not survive until Christmas.”

“You’re going to make her squirm; however, like Cam said, this could seriously backfire on you,” Spencer said.

“It won’t,” I smiled.

“I’ve dated countless women, and even I know you don’t fuck around with the fake bad moods, or your ass is toast. They hold onto grudges, man.” Spencer looked adamant that this was a horrible idea.

“Countless women,” Collin rolled his eyes as Jake threw his head back in laughter. “I don’t know about all thecountlessothers, Monroe, but I do know that your wife is a master at toasting your ass.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Spencer added with a chuckle.

“I say we do it,” Jake said, smiling like he couldn’t wait to see me fall on my face. “My brother, who doesn’t know how to prank worth a damn, is trying this shit on and believing it will work.”

“I got your asses last year, didn’t I?Thatprank was certainly worth a damn,” I said.

“Now,thosewords are the truest ever spoken, friends,” Collin said. “All right, Jimbo. Let’s see what we can do to get back at your feisty wife for making you trend in the worst way on social media.”

“That really was my idea,” Jake said.

“But you got the idea when you heard her talking about the damn rescue tree,” I arched an eyebrow. “That was ground zero for all this bullshit.”

I internally laughed at how perfect my retaliation was going to be, and I was confident that after I was finished, my wife would never try to prank my ass through my company again.

Oh, the holidays—nothing like a bit of family chaos and double-crossing to keep things interesting.

TWENTY-THREE

Avery

To sayI felt like dog shit barely covered it. What I’d hoped would blow over in a day had only escalated. My husband was the internet’s punchline, and it all started because I tried to embarrass his goofy ass with that damn “rescue” tree.

“Av.” Nat snapped her fingers from across our lunch table. “You still with me?”

“This shit has to stop.” I turned my phone so she could see. “Look at this.”

Nat pinched her lips, then burst out laughing. “Oh, God.POV: You give your employees cheese boards instead of bonuses, then save dying trees to prove you’re generous. #BillionaireLogic.” She shook her head, looking at the meme—an AI picture of Jim holding a charcuterie board next to that dead tree.

“It’s everywhere,” I said. “I have no idea how to stop it.”

“Jim isn’t a child, and he wasn’t born yesterday,” Nat said, forking through her romaine. “He’s probably had his PR team put out worse fires by seven a.m.”

“I know, but he’s barely talking to me. When he does, he won’t look at me.” I rubbed my temples. “I even tried to hint about the party planning. He didn’t seem interested.”

“Well, Spence hasn’t complained about him being an asshole at work, and my husband helped that whole thing go viral.” She arched a brow. “If Jim’s mad at anyone, it should be Spencer for the double cross.”

I stared out at the ocean, looking for calm in the glittering water. My skin crawled with the need to fix this, and there was nothing I could do.

“Av, honey, let it go,” she said. “By the time Christmas is over, it’ll be a distant memory. And who knows, maybe people will rescue all the brown trees from the chipper?” She snorted. “Oh, dear. It really is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s Jake and Collin’s bullshit,” I half-laughed. “Jim escalated it while stalling the permits Cat sent over.”

“Hold up.” Nat’s fork froze. “You’re telling me that man actually rescued a brown tree?”

“Yep. Made a big deal out of it. Got the girls on his side, said we needed it on our Malibu porch.”