Total pages in book: 34
Estimated words: 32533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32533 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 163(@200wpm)___ 130(@250wpm)___ 108(@300wpm)
Footsteps sound in the hall.
“Christian?” I say.
My smile falters the instant Brittany enters the living room.
“Wow,” she says, smacking her gum. “I don’t think this place has seen a Christmas tree in over a decade.”
“Hello, Brittany,” my mom says kindly. “We weren’t expecting you.”
“Why would you? It’s not like I called.” She pulls off her white beanie and shrugs off her perfectly tailored coat. Honestly, she looks like she just stepped out of a Burberry winter catalogue. If she wasn’t such a garbage human, I would tell her she looks nice. “You guys certainly didn’t waste any time leaving your mark on the place.”
“Christmas has always been a special time for our family,” Mom says.
“Whatever. It’s not like my dad will care.” Brittany’s gaze, which is almost fond while looking at the tree, hardens when it lands on me. She smirks. “Have you lost weight, Eden? That shirt looks loose on you.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “I wouldn’t know. Your dad doesn’t have a scale.”
“Maybe you should order one online at whatever bargain-basement department store you got these decorations from.”
Mom crosses her long legs and twines her fingers on her knee. “If you’d like to help us decorate, we could go shopping at one of your preferred retailers.”
Brittany tilts her head like she’s thinking it over.
“Nah, I’ll pass. You guys clearly have it covered. And why wouldn’t you? This is your house now, too.” Her words say one thing, but her tone is clearly warning us not to get too comfortable in her space.
“Wow,” I say flatly. “Thank you for acknowledging that, Brittany. I’m sure it was difficult for you.”
Shifting her weight to one foot, Brittany pops her hip out. “Yeah, it was.”
“What can we do for you, Brittany?” Mom asks with a sigh, already tired of her stepdaughter’s sarcasm.
“Oh, my dad didn’t tell you? I’m going to be staying here for a couple of weeks.”
My stomach drops at the prospect of having to reside under the same roof as this wannabe Gossip Girl for that long. “You can’t be serious—”
Brittany’s phone rings, cutting me off.
“Speak of the devil.” She answers her phone with a high-pitched, “Hey, Dad! …Yeah, it was great. …Uh-huh, totally.”
I try not to make it obvious that I’m listening in on her conversation now that I know Christian is on the other end. Sadly, subterfuge was never one of my strong suits. She catches me watching her out of the corner of my eye.
“I’m here with both of them now, unfortunately.” Scowling, Brittany steps out of the room, taking her one-sided conversation with her.
“She’s always so…pleasant to be around,” Mom says, shooting a side-eye my way.
I place the stocking I’ve been holding on the mantel and then rub my eyes. “Yeah, she’s a real peach.”
We get a few minutes of blissful quiet before Brittany struts back into the room.
“It’s settled. Dad’s coming back tonight, and I’ll be staying through Christmas. I’m going to go unpack my stuff. Don’t bother me, okay?” She smiles like a hawk that just ripped apart a forest mouse, and then walks out of the room.
Once my frustration has a chance to dissipate, my mind finally registers what’s just occurred.
Christian’s coming back tonight. But is he coming back for me, or for Brittany?
“I’ve never thought I’d be so grateful for all four thousand square feet of his apartment,” Mom quips.
I hum my assent as apprehension and excitement swirl in my stomach. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t ecstatic about the prospect of seeing Christian again, but I’m nervous about how things will be between us. There’s still so much we need to talk about, and now that Brittany’s going to be staying here, we’ll have to be even more cautious.
Assuming he hasn’t changed his mind about us…
One thing’s for sure, this is going to be a very different Christmas from what I’m used to, in more ways than one.
CHAPTER 9
CHRISTIAN
I grip the steering wheel so tightly that my knuckles turn white. I’ve been parked in the underground garage for the past ten minutes, trying to gather the strength to take the elevator to the penthouse.
What keeps me glued to the leather interior of my Aston Martin is the knowledge that Eden will be there. And the second I lay eyes on her, I won’t be able to recall why indulging this obsession with my stepdaughter is a terrible idea.
But I can’t stay in this parking garage forever. Furthermore, I won’t leave Eden and Petra to contend with my daughter’s attitude on their own.
When Brittany called to tell me she wanted to spend Christmas with me for a change, I knew she must’ve had a fight with her mother. I didn’t want to say yes, but what practical reason did I have to say no? I settled for a stern reminder that she would be a guest in what is now Petra and Eden’s home.