Page 66 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell

“Oh, yeah? Well, Dad is also trending as the billionaire who could save dead trees but couldn’t save his marriage,” I said, taking a sip. “God only knows how they’d crucify him for letting you drink coffee.”

“Please,” Nat said, “there are nine-year-olds out there drinking Starbucks mochas and lattes like they were born coffee drinkers.”

“Well, according to anything my husband does online, it’s never good—only bad.”

“That’s because he’s a CEO billionaire, honey,” Nat countered. “The internet will never praise those men, no matter what they do.”

“She’s not wrong,” Laney said, walking back out with fresh apple-cinnamon muffins. “I mean, I never would’ve imaginedthat someone rescuing a dead tree from a chipper could be twisted into a bad thing.”

“Until it was my husband who did it,” I said.

“I have an idea,” Ash said. “What if all of us—guys and gals—just unplugged and went to that retreat Jake and I always go to in Newport Beach?”

“Huh?” I said. “When are we going to have any time for something like that?”

My mood was edgy, to say the least. I just wanted to get this shit over with. In fact, today, I’d planned to work all this bullshit out with Jim because I wasn’t in this to make the man sick inside. It had all gotten blown out of proportion, and now? Well, now it was worse than before.

“Trust me,” Ash said. “It’s kind of like the retreat we went to last year, minus the bullshit of Jim pranking his brother and Collin.”

“Do you honestly think Jim will trust anything at this point?” Nat chuckled, taking a bite of her muffin.

“I think Jim and I should just fucking run away at this point,” I said, defeated.

“Oh, hell no, you don’t,” Nat stood. “Ash, arrange for everyone who can go to join you. It’ll be splendid, and I could use a damn massage after this past week at work. Besides, we still have these two monumental Christmas parties that Jim and the girls—and you and Cat—have arranged for all of us.”

“What do you think, Av? Nothing but relaxing, massages, and fun.”

“No pictures,” I said. “And only after Jim’s PR team puts out these newest fires. And, of course, that assuming Jim even wants to go.”

“Jim will want to go,” Laney said. “Collin told me he cried into his bourbon last night because you two weren’t speaking. Said he fucked it all up.”

“Well, thank Godthosepictures didn’t make it to social media,” I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Ash, are you okay taking the girls? I need to go make up with my husband.”

“Always,” Ash smiled at Addy. “John has his basketball tournament today, and Kaley and I were going to make fudge and Christmas cookies.”

“That sounds fun,” Addy smiled at Ash, then looked at me. “I’m glad you’re the one breaking first, Mom. Poor Dad.”

“I’m not necessarily breaking,” I answered her.

“You’re ending the fight, right?” she argued.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m breaking.”

“But it does mean Dad won!” she laughed, and I arched an eyebrow at her.

“Excuse me?” I questioned.

“Yeah, Izzy and I made a bet that Dad would lose the fake fight. Turns out, you’re raising the white flag first,” she taunted.

“Well, whatever,” I answered. “Honestly, I don’t care if I lose this battle. I miss Dad.”

She chuckled. “You guys are both love crazies.”

“Call us what you want,” I said, then looked at the ladies. “I’ll talk to you tonight after Jim and I are?—”

“Honey, if you talk to us tonight at all after making up with Jim and enjoying that marvelous makeup sex that’s waiting for you, then Jim really is in his ‘I messed up, and she took the kids’ era!” She laughed.

“The girls can sleep over,” Ash winked.