Chapter 9
NINE
Jim
I curled around Avery, pulling my wife closer to my chest, letting her warm body relax me after the latest whirlwind of bullshit I’d somehow landed myself in.
Maybe I should’ve stayed in the guest room for the night and tried to sort through it all, but Avery and I had a rule never to go to bed angry or sleep apart.
So even when she tried to insist that I’d be sleeping somewhere else, we both knew that was never going to happen.
Even though I wasn’t actually banned from the master suite—or worse, from sleeping with her in my arms—it didn’t mean that I’d fully given in to her side of the argument.
How many fucking balls and benefits could a damn company host in the span of a few holidays and weeks?
Hell, I was still full from the turkey and stuffing I ate at Addy’s Thanksgiving benefit.
Now, I would be staring down endless amounts of ham, prime rib, and pies, and if Avery had her way, Cat Veléz would have sugar plum fairies dancing around the room while we stuffed our faces.
I kissed my firecracker of a wife on the top of her head, then gently slid out of bed.
If everyone suddenly needed the holidays to be celebrated on a grand scale instead of just enjoying Christmas in their own way, then I needed a plan not only to rein this shit in, but also to derail my wife and keep Cat from turning Los Angeles into some small Swiss village at Christmas.
I walked down the steps and headed toward my liquor cabinet. Bourbon would help turn off my brain a lot quicker than digging into numbers to save my wife from calling that over-the-top event planner for a damn holiday celebration.
Bourbon would help me sell that story to myself. I poured two fingers of the amber liquid into a crystal glass, eyed it, and downed it. Who the hell would’ve thought holiday planning would drive me to drink harder than mergers and acquisitions?
On my way to my office, I noticed the glow of the kitchen light. Ten o’clock. Only one of my kids would be up and prowling for sweets.
Sure enough, I found Izzy standing at the counter, spoon in hand, digging into the ice cream carton. “Stealing my ice cream?”
“Dad!” Izzy jumped back, nearly dropping the container. “You scared me.”
“You, never cease to amaze me, you little sneaker.”
She grinned, “Want some?”
“Absolutely,” I said, grabbing a bowl. “How about we share since it’s late and now we’re both about to get banished to the guest room.”
She giggled, “Mom busted you, huh?”
“Grab me a spoon,” I said, arching an eyebrow at her as I scooped the ice cream, “and meet me in my office.”
She trailed after me, plopped into a chair, and swung her legs as if she hadn’t just been caught red-handed.
“So,” I said, flipping on the computer and taking a bite of the fudge brownie ice cream, “what do you want for Christmas this year? Seems everyone is already talking about it.”
She took a bite and smiled at me. “Perhaps a charity ball for the children,” she said in her most posh accent before laughing and taking another bite.
I rolled my eyes and brought my attention to my logins on the computer. “Lord,” I said. “Anything else your mom told you to say if I dare bring up the holiday?”
“Just that you are Ebenezer Scrooge this year,” she shrugged with a sassy grin.
“Is that so?” I dipped my spoon back into the ice cream, “Well, if that’s the case, then perhaps you’re not my adorable daughter, but the Ghost of Christmas Future?”
“No, Dad,” she rolled her eyes. “That ghost kills you when you don’t learn your lessons about Christmas.”
“Kills me?” I chuckled. “Dang, Christmas just took a dark turn.”
“It’s true.”
“It’s not true. You misunderstood the show,” I said.
“Then why is that ghost the scariest, and why does it always end with Scrooge in the grave?”
“Okay,” I said, exhaling, “this isn’t quite the direction I saw this conversation going, but allow me to help you understand because I believe you never saw the ending.”
“I did. He figured out not to be a stingy miser to his employees at Christmas, and the ghost let him live.”
“To his employees? Oh, brother. Okay,” I shook my head, “perhaps, we should throw a beautiful Christmas celebration to remove these images from your mind.”
“That will just save you from the ghost,” she smiled.
“Allow me to assure you, my morbid daughter, who’s apparently watched one too many Halloween horrors with her Uncle Jake this year at Halloween.”
“Go on,” she said, taking another bite.
“Scrooge just needed to be scared a little, that’s all. He was a selfish and greedy man. He had to learn that his money wasn’t all there was to life, and he would eventually die a lonely, miserable man if he didn’t see the true meaning of giving during the holidays…and not only to his employees.”
“Still dead, either way, Dad.”
“Okay, fine. Let’s make sure Dad doesn’t get haunted by the ghost of Christmas horrors this year, shall we?”
“Mom already called that pretty lady. She’s planning it.”
I narrowed my eyes at her. “You just ate all our ice cream and also knew Mom hired the coordinator?”
“Cat,” she confirmed.
My damn kids were way too smart for their own good sometimes. But no one outsmarted me.
“How’d you know about this sneaky little thing Mom did, but I had no clue until tonight?”
She gave me the sassy Izzy grin. “I heard mom talking with Aunt Laney, Aunt Nat, and Aunt Ash when we were at Aunt Jessa and Uncle Cam’s tonight.”
“That’s certainly a mouthful, isn’t it?” I said, narrowing my eyes at the treachery all my friends’ wives were participating in with my wife.
It seemed I would need to squeeze Izzy for information to stay ahead of the army of wives coming after me and my company’s shares to host a damn Christmas celebration.
Hell, at this point, the only person still talking to me was Izzy. Even the husbands were pissed at my ass and would love for this shit to steamroll me in every way.
“I’d like to scold you for eavesdropping on grown folks’ conversations, but tonight, it’s been very helpful.”
“Why, because mom’s gonna kick your butt?”
I needed another shot of bourbon.
“Something like that. Want to be on Dad’s side? We’ll make it fun and call it our little family Christmas party war.”
“Oh, Dad,” she said with a laugh. “I don’t think we’ll win. Mom has Cat.”
“But we have each other, Izzy Bear,” I said, like a desperate fool. “Mom’s going to make me eat this because I was foolish not to think of those less fortunate for Christmas this year. I need your cute ideas to make this the most adorable, and not over-the-top Christmas event.”
“Now, you’re just manipulating me,” she said.
“You’re too smart for your own good,” I finally said out loud, turning back to my computer to search for some things so I’d have ideas by morning. “And manipulation is more like me offering you more ice cream for more answers.”
“That’s why everyone says I’m like you,” she smiled, kissed my cheek. “I’ll wash and dry the bowl, so Mom never finds out about the ice cream.”
“You’re quite sneaky, you know that?” I stared at her, and she grinned. “I could really use you on my team.”
“I’m sneaky, Dad, not stupid,” she said. “I’m not going against Mom, especially after what she’s planning.”
“What’s she planning?” I questioned.
“Mom said we couldn’t say.”
“Huh? We never keep secrets in this family,” I said.
“I know, but it’s not a secret if it’s a fun Christmas war game, right?”
“I could really use you, Izzy,” I said. “Pretty please?”
“Dad,” she begged.
“Please?”
Her eyes narrowed, “There’s no way we’re winning this.”
“I think with our two great minds thinking alike, we’ve got a good chance up against Mom, Cat Veléz, and everyone in my company?”
“It would be kind of fun,” she said, “but we need Addy on our team. I won’t dare let Addy beat me.”
“I’ll handle sis,” I said with a smile. “All right, tomorrow I’ll let Mom know she’s going up against not just me, but her daughters, too.”
Her eyes widened, and she laughed, “You know she’ll never compete against me and Addy with things like this.”
“It’s a chance I’m willing to take,” I said. “And if she won’t? Then we win.”
She smiled. “You are pretty smart,” she said, then left to clean her sneaky bowl of ice cream.
How the hell else do I run a billion-dollar empire? I thought, knowing if I didn’t get a grip on my wife proving points about me being a cheapskate, then my ass was going to be doing nothing more than signing checks this year for Christmas events.