Cruel Winter with You (Under the Mistletoe collection) by Ali Hazelwood

Author:Ali Hazelwood [Hazelwood, Ali]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Amazon Original Stories
Published: 2024-11-12T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Three

Jamie, are you okay?”

I’m hugging my knees on one end of the couch, as far from where Marc sits as I can possibly manage, trying to ignore the howling of the storm that has intensified to a scary volume, the dangerous sounds of the wind beating against the trees.

I distract myself by staring at the beautifully lit Christmas tree, decorated in the same classic style Marc’s mom has favored since we were kids. Then I notice the swirls of snow traveling furiously past the high windows and have to shut my eyes tight.

I’ve always been a bit of a delicate flower. Scared of thunderstorms. The dark. Nightmares. Loud noises. Back when we were younger, Marc used to tease me about it—but then he’d miraculously be around whenever I showed the smallest signs of distress, and stick to my side until I was done panicking.

“Jamie.”

When I open my eyes, Marc is right there, kneeling next to me, the gray of his irises darkened by worry.

Honestly, he was right. Being outside would be dangerous, and staying put is for the best. Even if, for me, being stuck with him is hell, with just a tiny bit of heaven blended in.

Must be just plain hell for him, a needling voice reminds me. Given the way you treated him last time. Given his reaction to your apology—or lack thereof.

“I saw you on TV last month,” I blurt out. A bit out of the blue, but it’s as neutral a topic of conversation as any.

“Yeah?” He smiles, as if relieved that I’m finally talking to him. “Was it Dateline?”

“Of course.”

“Dammit.”

“No, wait . . . To Catch a Predator, I think.”

“Oh, come on.”

“Okay, fine. It was your testimony in front of Congress. That special hearing for all that . . . Silicon Valley stuff?”

“I didn’t take you for the type to binge-watch C-SPAN judiciary-committee content.”

“Excuse me? I live for gavel-to-gavel coverage of the US Congress.”

“Right. How could I forget.” He gives me a long, affectionate look.

I don’t get it.

“Honestly?” I say to interrupt it. “I came across the footage while looking for the Cartoon Network for one of my patients.”

“Ah. Well, that checks out. You are always working.” There is something in his tone—like he’s riding the thin line between laughing with me and at me, daring me to remember our last conversation.

“Are you really too busy, Jamie? Or are you just fucking terrified?”

So much for safe topics. “Was it fun? Giving the testimony?”

“Explaining why crypto is bad to a nonagenarian senator who has no working knowledge of the internet does have its moments.”

I chuckle. “I bet. And how’s the . . .” I wave my hand, vague. “Stocks?”

“Which ones?”

“Um . . . yours?”

He leans back, amused. His face reminds me of that picture of him at some kind of interview or convention, the one I saw online a few months ago. He looked so good, I decided it must have been photoshopped.

Clearly I was wrong.

“Would you like to know what their market value was at last closing?”

“Um, yeah.

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