Chapter 39
THIRTY-NINE
Avery
The moment that rusted heap of metal rumbled onto the studio lot, everyone around me lost it.
I even had to bite my lip hard enough to prevent myself from bursting into laughter.
The shrill sputter of the engine echoed off the soundstage walls like a dying chainsaw, and the sight of it?
The dented panels, a duct-taped wreath, and Merry Christmas…
Shitter’s Full written across the back, it was perfection.
Collin was behind the wheel, obviously, grinning like a maniac and dressed head-to-toe in Cousin Eddie’s outfit—hat with ear flaps, robe, the whole commitment—and Jake sat shotgun, waving a beer can out the window like a parade marshal from hell.
Snow from the machines drifted through the air, catching the glow of the studio lights as the Victorian London set froze in place.
Carolers halted mid-note, and extras in horse-drawn carriages turned to stare.
Even the kids gasped when the RV fishtailed over fake cobblestone, peeled in, and screeched to a stop.
“Oh. My. God,” Nat breathed beside me, clutching her mulled wine. “They actually pulled this off.”
Ash snorted behind a gloved hand. “Are you seriously surprised, Nat?”
Darcy tilted her head, lips curving. “I’m more surprised we didn’t get a call that they broke down on the 101,” she laughed.
“Can you imagine?” Nat snickered. “I wouldn’t even expect the cops to help them call a tow.”
“I’m shocked the muffler didn’t just combust and take the whole thing with it,” I said. I should’ve stayed composed, but my stomach hurt from trying not to lose it this entire time.
Our girls were pressed to the velvet ropes, eyes wide and sparkling. Addy absolutely lost her shit, along with her sister, when Jake leaped out first and nearly ate it on the fake snow. Then Jim appeared, with Collin behind him, pretending to kick him in the butt.
Pure chaos. Ridiculous, glorious, over-the-top…the kind of spectacle only those two could pull off.
I covered my mouth at the perfection. Jim was the perfect Frank Shirley with an oversized red bow across his chest, those ridiculous pajamas, staring like a man abducted by certified lunatics, which, technically, he had been.
Jake and Collin each took an arm and marched him down the RV steps, phones lifted everywhere to catch every second.
“You thought your husband was breaking the internet before,” Nat said, wheezing a laugh. “This? This is forever.”
“And that’s exactly the point,” Cat’s voice cut in smoothly. “Okay. Jim’s off to wardrobe. Avery, you’ll greet him before he takes the stage.” She flicked that calm, controlled gaze at me, a general with a run-of-show. “Does he have a prepared speech?”
“I hope so,” I winced. “I was busy faking that the party was canceled…”
“If he needs it, I have one,” she said, smirking. “But your husband has salvaged more than one event by giving a speech when another CEO was too drunk. Timing is tight, so I need you in place for his stage entrance.”
When Jim came out of wardrobe dressed as Scrooge, my heart tripped. Devastatingly handsome didn’t cover it. The overcoat and top hat did nasty, wonderful things to my self-control. If I didn’t haul him back into the wardrobe room to prove it, it would be a Christmas miracle.
Before stepping on stage, he declined the paper Cat offered, leaving him without notes or a safety net. Only my husband could get dragged to his own company party as Frank Shirley, be transformed into Scrooge, and still command the room as if none of it fazed him.
He wasn’t Ebenezer up there. He was James Mitchell, shoulders easy, presence effortless, and ready to open our night.
“First of all,” Jim began, motioning toward me, “please give a round of applause to my wife, Avery, who worked tirelessly to make tonight everything you hoped for on Christmas Eve.”
The applause swelled. I waved, enjoying the sight of his employees, business associates, and their families, who were spending this night with us instead of at home in their slippers, and loving that they were happy to be here.
“She’s also responsible for the jets that flew you here, the suites that are decorated even more than our house, and, most importantly, for reminding me that I was at first, in fact…” He paused, brow up. “What was that hashtag again?”
“Billionaire bastard!” Jake hollered, hands cupped like a human megaphone.
“Right.” Jim pointed at him. “Leave it to my brother to memorize every hashtag.”
Laughter filled the area. I couldn’t help joining, reliving the madness of this season that’d finally resolved into something adorable.
“And while the whole brown tree rescue nonsense was just a prank I played on my adorable wife and completely untrue, everything suggesting I was a careless billionaire CEO was entirely fair.” He glanced at me wryly.
“I didn't mean to offend anyone by trying something different this year, like giving fancy charcuterie boards and champagne. But what I’ve realized, especially this past week, is that the holidays should be joyful and uplifting. If you work for a billion-dollar empire, you deserve to be rewarded in a way that feels heartfelt.” His eyes found mine. “Down to the janitor, right, my love?”
“Yes,” I said, warmth climbing my throat. Our first battle line, the one that started this whole Christmas war, still sat with him.
Jim went on to say how I’d planned the party, how he’d refused to be the Scrooge I accused him of being, and how he worked with our daughters to build the event they all attended last night to prove it.
“If you had a few things to say behind my back before the invites went out, trust me, my wife beat you to it the second she found out that this year I only signed off on cheese boards and champagne,” he deadpanned, setting off another wave of laughter.
“Hence my arrival as Clark Griswold’s boss tonight. ”
He swept a hand toward the cobbled streets and glowing windows.
“But I won’t stand here and let tonight be remembered as the night I was Ebenezer Scrooge.
We’re filling the streets of London out of a Charles Dickens’ dream, and before I turn you loose on everything my wife has planned, I’d like to say one thing…
” He paused, smile slow and lethal. “Whatever bonuses you received last year, expect triple.”
The roar cracked through the set. My eyes stung, pride and love and relief crashing together. He really was the best man on the planet.
“I’ll turn the party over to your host,” he said, gesturing for me to step up, “so she can welcome you all and let you explore her amazing venue.”
I took Jim’s hand as I stepped onto the stage, and the roar of applause nearly drowned out my heartbeat. The snow machines continued to fill the air with soft, glittering flurries, and under the studio lights, it almost looked like magic. Honestly, both last night and tonight felt that way.
“Wow,” I started, glancing at the crowd.
“I didn’t think we were going to pull this off, but we did, and I’m so grateful to every one of you for being here tonight,” I said, smiling.
“Even though my husband and I had a very interesting month with our party planning war, all of this has doubled my appreciation of him and all of you—those he works hard for and those who work hard for him. The season is about joy. About how this company, this family, comes together every year and creates something bigger than any of us could do alone.”
The lights shimmered over the crowd—the set staff, employees, and their families, and the crew that had worked around the clock to turn a studio backlot into Victorian London.
“When Jim and I started planning this—”
Jim coughed dramatically.
“Correction, when I started planning this,” I said, to another round of laughter, “the goal wasn’t just to throw a party.
It was to remind everyone, including my husband, that you can be successful and sentimental.
Ruthless in business and softhearted at home.
You can lead a billion-dollar empire and still believe in the magic of Christmas. ”
The applause swelled again. I looked at Jim, his expression softened, that quiet look that always undid me.
“And while tonight may have started as a prank war between my husband and me,” I continued, “it ended as proof that he’s exactly the man I fell in love with.
He’s the man who would rather make people laugh than impress a boardroom, who’d triple your bonuses without hesitation, and who is always giving back to those who help make his vision a reality within the empire he works tirelessly to run.
He truly is selfless. Despite being worn out by parties and galas, not only did he arrange for us to have two this year, but he made sure both would bring everyone the laughter and happiness this season is meant for.
He may have started on the wrong foot, but that’s what this little wife of his is for: to give him a gentle nudge and remind him it’s truly about the smiles I see here tonight.
That’s what makes this year so different and special to me—with all of you. ”
I smiled while everyone applauded, and I let the warmth of it sink in.
“So, before we turn you loose on the streets of London, please raise your glass—hot cocoa, champagne, whatever you’ve got—to each other for your hard work throughout the year and the people who made this magic possible.
To our staff, our families, and to every crazy, messy, wonderful person who makes this company what it is.
” I paused, holding Jim’s gaze. “And to my husband, who reminded me that even Scrooge deserves a second chance.”
Jim grinned, kissed my temple, and the band struck up a jazzy version of God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. The lights dimmed to create the most enchanting Christmas in London set ever, and the servers swept through with trays of champagne as snowflakes drifted through the air.
“A very merry welcome to the Mitchell and Associates Christmas Gala,” I said into the mic. “Let’s make it a night we’ll never forget.”
The applause came like a wave, steady and real. Not polite, not performative. It was joy breaking loose, and the whole street of our London set came to life as if we were in the enchanting movie itself.
Snow fell harder—fake, but perfect. Gas lamps flickered against frosted windows. Servers stepped out with trays of champagne and mulled wine, and the sound of laughter rolled through the square like music.
Jim’s hand brushed my lower back as I stepped off the platform. “You handled that like a pro,” he murmured.
“We both did,” I said, smiling up at him.
The laughter around us filled the air. Even the board members standing near the bakery building couldn’t help but grin with the magic in the air.
Jim slipped his arm around me and leaned close enough for his breath to warm the top of my ear. “You realize,” he said quietly, “even with all of the crazy bullshit we’ve gone through this season, we really did put a smile on everyone’s face.”
“We sure as hell did,” I said with a laugh.
For a moment, we just stood there, watching his employees turn into kids again under the falling snow, the sets glowing gold, our daughters twirling in their Victorian dresses.
At the same time, all of our friends were being roped into some impromptu caroling circle near the carriage, their kids dragging them there with pleading expressions.
It was chaos and charm and everything I didn’t know I needed this Christmas.
“This feels different,” Jim said after a beat. “Like…the point wasn’t just winning.”
I looked up at him. “It never was.”
He held my gaze for a long moment, then nodded, almost to himself. “Good thing you’re on my team now, Mrs. Mitchell.”
“I always was,” I said, and meant it. “That’s why you’ll be trending nicely over the internet by morning.”
“Is that my Christmas present, my love?” He smirked.
“Oh, you know exactly what your handsome ass is getting for Christmas this year,” I arched an eyebrow at him.
“If only we could leave our own party early,” he winked, then pulled me in close to him.
I laughed, the sound getting lost under the swell of the orchestra and the distant chime of church bells piped in through the set speakers.
Snow drifted through the air, catching in his hair, melting on his collar. For one perfect heartbeat, the chaos, the rivalry, the weeks of planning, our fake fight—all of it—fell away.
There was only us. The man who once swore he didn’t have time for Christmas and the woman who refused to let him forget why it mattered.
And for the first time in a long while, James Mitchell looked like he had found peace in running his company and sharing it with his family.
Our sweet and silly Christmas miracle turned out to be so much more than I ever imagined, and as I stood here, watching everything unfold around us in happiness and fulfillment, I truly felt its magic.
From our Happy Holidays to Yours…
We wish you all the joy of giving and enjoying
your holiday season with friends
and family.
’Tis the Season to be Merry and Bright!
—The Mitchell Family
The End