Page 1 of The Holidays with Dr. Mitchell
CHAPTER 1
Jake
Anyone who knows me, knows I’m the best cardiovascular surgeon (and hottest piece of ass) at world-renowned Saint John’s Hospital, and I love every aspect of my job, but that’s not even the best part about my life. The best part is that aside from having the career of my dreams, I have the most fantastic wife in the galaxy and the two coolest kids.
My beautiful brunette beauty of a wife is a talented painter and successful gallery owner, and she forever changed my life from the first moment I laid eyes on her. Of course, I didn’t realize it at the time, but I’d met my soulmate that fateful day when she spilled her fucking green Matcha Frappuccino all over me. That fiasco led to a dozen decisions that would spell out our amazing future and the dream of a life I’d been living with her since we first met.
Meeting her and unexpectedly falling insanely in love forced my ass to grow up in more ways than one. And now, here I was,one happy-ass mother fucker on his way home, daydreaming about her and the beautiful family we shared.
I wanted for absolutely nothing in life. I was content. I was happy. I was fulfilled.
Ring! Ring!
“Sup?” I answered my best friend’s call.
“What are you doing?” Collin asked.
“I just left the hospital fifteen minutes ago, as you well know, since I beat you out of the parking lot. What do you think I’m doing?”
“Sitting in traffic.”
“Bingo,” I said, crawling on the freeway at a snail’s pace during rush hour traffic. “I was also daydreaming about how perfect my life is until you called and interrupted me.”
“Well, you’re not going to think your life is perfect once you hear what our lovely women have planned for our holidays this year.”
“It’s still October. I know we’re not talking about Christmas yet.”
“That’s what I told Elena when she called me as soon as I left the—Fucking Shitbird! Get the fuck out of the way, then!”
I smirked, listening to Collin yell at another commuter who’d sent him to a road rage fit.
“Did you miss your exit?” I laughed.
“Dumb fucking idiot came into my lane where there isno room, slammed on the brakes, and?—”
“It’s called traffic, dipfucker. That’s happened to me about fifteen times since you called, but I’ve kept my mood calm and collected.”
“That’s only because your wife hasn’t yet called you to tell you that you’re taking the kids trick-or-treating this year in Aster’s cute little suburban neighborhood.”
“And she won’t call me to tell me that because she knows I would say no,” I said, changing lanes, trying to get out of this lock-up, and wishing I had a passenger with me to hit the carpool lane to get my ass home.
“You’re so fucked if you think you’re getting out of this.”
“I don’t think, Collin, I know.”
“Yeah, well, I just want to know if you’d like to get drunk before or after the Halloween block party we’ll be attending a week from Thursday?”
“From the bitch fit you’re throwing, I’d adviseyouto drink beforeand after.”
“Pointless talking to you,” he said, annoyed because he couldn’t weasel out of these things like I could.
“Yeah, probably so. Ash knows I won’t be walking around in some rando neighborhood. I’d rather buy the kids candy, put on a cute Halloween flick, and call it a holiday.”
“Let me know what you’re dressing up as,” Collin said, ignoring my self-assuredness.
“Dressing up as? Collin, I’m not doing this shit. If anything, I’ll be at work. Trick-or-treating is for the moms, not the dads.”
“Is that so?” I heard my wife’s voice hauntingly chime through my car’s intercom, leading me to glance around for sight of her.
