Page 1 of My Ex for Christmas
CHAPTER 1
HADLEY
“Why didn’tyou tell me you were coming home, bitch?”
I sigh as I step back into my suite after another long day. With my phone in one hand and my bag in the other, I have to kick the door closed with my foot. “I was a little preoccupied getting everything sorted for Mr. Oliveira’s takeover of the ski resort.”
On the other end of the line, my sister makes a noise of protest. “After all these years, he still makes you call himMr. Oliveira?”
“No,” I reply, a little defensively. In fact, my boss often tells menotto call him Mr. Oliveira. He prefers Thiago. “I just like keeping things professional.”
I can practically feel her eye roll through the phone. “Hadley.”
“Samantha.”
“Please tell me you haven’t been pulling twelve-hour days.”
“I haven’t been pulling twelve-hour days.”
They’re usually sixteen. But at least I take a break for lunch. That has to count for something, right?
She snorts in disbelief. “You’re at a beautiful resort in the mountains!” Sam says, which she only knows because I was forced to send her pictures this morning. “At least promise me you’ll do more than rot in your hotel room every night.”
“I do notrot,” I say with a scoff.
She ignores me. “Do something fun! Go out, have a drink. For me. Please?”
I haven’tgone outin a long time. Probably not since university. Even then, my wild nights were few and far between. I much preferred staying in to study, and sometimes on the weekends I would venture out to immerse myself in the Brazilian culture. I hadn’t wanted to take a minute of my studying abroad for granted.
But I know that if I don’t throw my sister a bone, she’s going to keep pestering me. She might even resort to driving up here from her new place in Nanaimo and physically dragging me outside to have her definition of fun.
“Ugh.Fine, I’ll go.”
“You better not be lying! I’ll know if you are.”
Unfortunately, she’s right. She has always had this uncanny ability to sniff out my lies and pry the truth from me. In some ways, she makes a better older sister than I do.
I sigh as I set my bag down on the love seat in my living room. My suite is essentially a small apartment. “I’m going, I’m going.”
One drink, I promise myself. I’ll go for one drink. Then I can successfully say I followed Sam’s orders, and I’ll never have to do it again.
“And while you’re at it, maybe you can get yourself laid or something.”
“Sam!” I chastise. My cheeks flare at the insinuation—that I haven’t had sex in a while—and I ignore the fact that she’s right. Again.
I can just imagine her satisfied grin. “Okay, I’ve gotta go, but you have a blast! And don’t think this conversation is over. I still want to know why youreallydidn’t tell me you were moving back.”
Me, too.
“I love you the most,” I say.
“I love you the mostest,” she replies. “Bye.”
I hang up the phone and glance down at my clothing. A wool sweater, black slacks and knee-high suede boots. That will have to do. Not exactlygoing outattire, but I’d rather not waste another outfit. The less time I have to spend worrying about laundry, the more time I have to keep on top of things for Thiago.
Pulling out my phone, I search for the nearest bar. Something tells me Sam wouldn’t appreciate me getting my drink from the resort. She’d call it cheating. According to Google, there’s one singular bar in Sugar Peak, which is about half an hour down the mountain. Fitting for such a small town.
I bundle myself up in my coat, toque and mittens, and then I venture through the resort. The lobby is all floor-to-ceiling windows and dark wood, with a stone fireplace as a focal point. Thiago certainly spared no expense. It makes sense, considering the whole point of him buying this place was to create a vacation spot for himself.
