Page 61 of The Holidays with Mr. Mitchell
“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.
Jimneverstressed 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’veneversaid such a thing about me and meant it. To James Mitchell, I could donowrong, andthatwas 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 eatinghim 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?”
“AndI’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.”
