Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
Avery
To say I 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.”
“You didn’t go through with that nonsense, did you?”
“I did. They made me feel heartless if I didn’t.”
Nat gave me a slow, sly smile. “Then he deserves every ounce of this backfiring on his ass. If Spence turned our daughter against me to parade a brown tree in front of all of Malibu, I wouldn’t speak to him until he begged for forgiveness.”
“Well, I just—”
“No, honey.” She cut me off. “You did nothing wrong. Jim asked for this attention—one, for stalling you and Cat, and two, for using the girls to manipulate his bullshit.”
“I just don’t want it to hurt his business,” I said, deflated.
“You’ve gotten too soft in your motherhood years,” she teased. “Let the stories run and watch him eat his words.”
“I did have Cat arrange to swap his tree for the real one I’d pranked him with,” I admitted. “Maybe he’ll get that the games are over.”
“You broke first?”
“I didn’t break. I just don’t want to fight with my husband over holiday bullshit.”
“Sweetie, that’s literally the point of the holidays, families fighting over stupid bullshit.”
“We don’t.”
“Then you’re not normal.” She returned to her salad. “Spencer and I fight all the time, and the makeup sex is stroke-level amazing. Sometimes I start the fight just to get it.”
“You’re insane,” I said, finally laughing for the first time in days.
“No.” She pointed at my phone. “A man rescuing dead trees while trying to cheap out on his employees with champagne and cheese boards, all while scrapping bonuses—that’s insane.”
“Yes, but we were fixing that with our parties.”
“And in the end, it’ll all work out,” she said, smiling. “Your husband is the biggest softie of them all. He can’t stay mad at you longer than a day.”
“It’s been three.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Three days? Shit.”
My chest tightened. “I know.”
“No, you don’t.” Her lethal gaze flicked past me, then back. “Jim’s doing this on purpose.”
“Doing what on purpose?”
“Acting upset. It’s how he ends the pranking. As long as you’re falling apart, he’s going to use it to hand you your ass on the party planning. You don’t really think a couple of viral tweets is going to ruin your husband’s empire, do you? Be serious, darling.”
She had a point. “Okay. So, what do I do? My anxiety’s already soaring.”
“Let Cat handle everything for your party. That girl brings magic without you having to hover. And we,” she smirked, “are going to get these bastards back.”
“I’m done with games,” I said, exhausted.
“Jim’s not. I guarantee he’s got all our husbands in on something.”
“What do you think they’re planning?”
“God knows,” she said. “But I’ll wring it out of Spencer tonight.”
I half smiled. “I hope you’re right.”
“Oh, I’m always right. Jim had his PR department fix that nonsense five seconds after everyone left his office; make no mistake about his ability to manage a potential crisis. He’ll use his parties to make himself Saint Christmas—and you saved his ass by forcing his hand.”
I twisted my lips. She wasn’t wrong.
“Av, trust me. That man can’t stay upset with you or the girls. This is killing him, but his stubborn streak won’t quit.”
“I just don’t know what my next move should be,” I said.
“Turn it on him. Pretend you’re upset. Make him squirm. Jump on top of his prank the way he did yours.”
I sighed. I wasn’t sure if I had the nerve for it, but I did know the Mitchell brothers loved messing with everyone, especially their wives. Jim never stayed mad for more than a day; that much was true. He wouldn’t even sleep in another room, no matter how heated an argument got.
Maybe Nat was right. Maybe he wanted me to squirm. And maybe what kept his little fire burning was me feeling awful about something his PR team could make disappear in an hour.
That man. Maybe I’d make him squirm for a change. I just wasn’t sure my nerves could handle it.
That evening, I sat on the sofa, and because the girls didn’t have homework, they were catching up on some of their favorite shows together in the theater room. I sipped my wine, watching another Hallmark Christmas classic, and tried to process how to beat my husband at his own game.
And right on time, I’d heard him walk in. He appeared in the doorway, suit jacket off, sleeves rolled, tie undone but perfect—like a man who could buy the world if he was in the mood.
He set his phone on the desk with deliberate precision. “Do you have any idea,” he said quietly, “how many people have tagged me in a tree-rescue meme today?”
“I saw some of them,” I answered, studying the man, and noticing now that he was playing me.
Jim never stressed about anything. Anything. This was all an act.
“Some?” He gave a humorless laugh. “My PR inbox looks like Santa’s graveyard. The board wants a statement. Investors want reassurance that I haven’t lost my mind. And, apparently, I’m now the face of holiday hypocrisy.”
I started to speak, but he held up a hand.
“Don’t,” he said. “I’m still deciding whether to fire my communications director over all this. I don’t know who’s made me look stupider, you or her.”
That’s when I decided to play Nat’s hand.
Jim had just made it too easy with that last comment.
He would’ve never said such a thing about me and meant it.
To James Mitchell, I could do no wrong, and that was the biggest fact in the world, making it so obvious that he’d just tipped his hand.
I knew my husband better than anyone, and I could guarantee that it was probably eating him up that his brother had jumped into this situation and was forcing Jim to pretend like he was mad at me.
Jim would’ve always blamed Jake before me. Jim would’ve blamed anyone and anything before he blamed me.
Oh, my God, this man.
“I think you’re over-reacting,” I said, “and if you hadn’t noticed, I had Cat’s team swap the brown tree out for your crown jewel of a Christmas tree before you got to work this morning.”
“I know,” he nodded, “that’s why I’m being mocked even further. Now, I’m betraying my noble cause for the brown trees…”
“Well, I guess we can’t save them all, can we?” I said, standing up. “Listen, I’m not going to sit around this house and deal with your moods since this all happened. You’re taking all of it out on me, even when you know your brother and VP had everything to do with it going viral.”
“And?”
“And I’m sick of this shit,” I said. “Have your damn PR team fix this shit, and quit trying to make my cute little joke out to be something that burned you and your company to the ground.”
He paused. I bit back a smile. Now, the tide changed, and it was up to Jim if he wanted to keep this shit going or kiss and make up.
I watched him glance past me, then saw the refocus in his eyes when he brought his attention back to me. I noticed out of my periphery that the girls were watching this, and I hated to fight in front of them, even if it was just a fake fight.
“You’re sick of it?” Jim questioned me, shocking me by continuing this in front of the girls. “How do you think I feel, Avery?”
Oh, no cute pet names, huh? Interesting.
“I don’t know how you feel, but I know how I feel. I’m taking a bath and not hearing another word of this shit. I’m done, James.”
“Cute, Avery,” he said. “Just run away from your problems.”
I kept walking with a smile on my face because Jim never argued with me like this. He was stumbling through the fight because I caught him off guard. Perhaps playing with his stubborn ass just a little could be fun. I may have broken a little in the beginning, but now it was his turn to squirm.