Page 17 of My eX-MAS Emergency

Admittedly, it made Tristan feel guilty. He often thought of himself before others, unless it was Quinn. She was the reason he was enduring the torture of being in her aunt’s presence, even though Calista was hell-bent on ignoring him. It bothered him more than he thought it would. He wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted. And he was realizing how badly he wanted Calista. He swore she’d pranced around last night in a nightshirt that showed off her delectable legs just to torment him. It was working.

All he could think about as he lay in bed the night before was how he longed to glide his fingers down those silky babies. He’d even be happy to warm her cold feet. Tristan loosened his tie some more, feeling like he was suffocating. He was sure there was no Christmas miracle on the horizon. Calista had made it abundantly clear she wanted nothing to do with him. Even after they’d accidentally touched a few nights ago, she’d had no reaction other than to cringe like it revolted her. Meanwhile, he’d had to force himself not to pick her up off the couch and beg her to let him kiss her until there was no breath left in either of their lungs. She probably would have decked him for it, but it would have been worth it just to hold her again.

Yet … he couldn’t help but think about how she’d kept the skis he’d given her for Christmas several years ago. The revelation had shocked him. Clearly, it embarrassed her that he knew. It wouldn’t surprise him if he found them in the trash sometime soon. Even so, he wondered why she’d kept them. It was so unlike her. She’d had a hard time accepting them in the first place, knowing how expensive they were. He had to swear he got them at a wholesale price from one of his company’s vendors. He would have paid anything for them, though. The amount of fun they had skiing that season was priceless—to say nothing of the fun he’d had warming her up afterward.

He ran a hand through his hair, nervous energy consuming him. He had half a mind to blaze a trail to the hospital right now and profusely apologize and beg her to forgive him. To find out if she kept the skis because a part of her still remembered he was a decent man and not just the guy who hurt her.

“Tristan,” his mother’s shrill voice interrupted his agony. He reluctantly turned to find her standing there, in a blue chiffon dress, holding a glass of chardonnay. More and more, she was reminding him of Cruella de Vil. And more and more, he could see why Calista thought it was ridiculous to dress up like this for holiday dinners. Did they expect England’s royal family to join them?

As a family, they should have been in mourning. Or at the very least, comforting each other over the loss of Jonathon. It was as if his parents didn’t wish to acknowledge their perfect son was anything but. Better just to sweep it under the rug and move on. Not even all their money could save him. Oh, they had tried. But Jonathon’s drinking and drug use prevented him from getting the new liver he needed. No amount of money could get him on that transplant list.

“Yes, Mother,” he sighed.

She approached him with shrewd eyes. “Your tie is in disarray.”

Tristan fixed it, knowing it was pointless to argue that he couldn’t care less. Especially since it was only him and his parents there. Hopefully, Quinn and Stella would arrive soon. At least Quinn would offer him some sort of reprieve. Stella, on the other hand, was beginning to really worry him. The night before, Calista had had to beg her to stay in and help them make decorations. Not that she’d been much help. Half the time she’d been on her phone texting. It was no wonder that Quinn gravitated toward Calista and him. If Stella wasn’t careful, she was going to lose the best thing in her life.

“Why so glum?” Cordelia asked.

It surprised Tristan she could read his emotions. But what a ridiculous question. Shouldn’t they all be a little down, considering their brother and son had just died? Not to say his angst came from his brother’s death. He was still trying to come to terms with the fact that his own brother had slept with his former wife. There was a time when Jonathon’s death would have devastated him, but that was a long time ago. Before Jonathon started showing up late every day to work and missing meetings with vendors and investors, forcing Tristan to cover for him. Before he started treating his wife and daughter like afterthoughts.

Tristan shrugged off his mother’s question. She would never understand the wonders of Calista Monroe and how she penetrated his very being.

“Please don’t tell me it’s that girl.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Do you mean Calista? Dr. Monroe?”

“Doctor,” she scoffed. “She’s a shame to the profession.”

Anger bubbled up in Tristan’s chest. “How would you know that? Are you a patient of hers?”

“Certainly not.” She quaked at the thought. “She only got the position because of that Deidra Zane.”

“I highly doubt that,” Tristan countered.

Cordelia almost dropped her glass. “Don’t fall for her again,” she warned.

He’d never gotten up from the first time he fell for her. Not that it mattered. The best he could hope for now was to be her friend. Even that was a long shot. “Why?” he asked, to perturb his mother.

A look of horror washed over her. “You can’t be serious? She’s nothing but trouble. Besides, I doubt she’ll be here very long,” she said confidently.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Tristan demanded to know.

Cordelia arrogantly smiled. “Only that this wrong will soon be righted.”

Tristan took a menacing step forward, his blood boiling. “If you do anything to jeopardize her position at the hospital, you’ll lose both your sons.”

She flushed red, momentarily at a loss for words. “You wouldn’t dare walk away from the business.” Of course that was her primary concern—not their relationship.

“Watch me.” He marched off toward the balcony, needing to cool off. He threw open the door with force, a blast of cold air hitting him before he slammed it shut behind him. Not caring about propriety anymore, he undid his tie and tossed it aside. Feeling like he could finally breathe a little easier, he went to the railing and leaned on it, looking toward the other side of the lake. The side he felt happier and freer on. He remembered his holidays spent there. He’d never laughed or loved more. Never got in more trouble either, but at least he’d been happy.

Tristan wondered if he should try to warn Calista her job was on the line. Not that she would listen to him. She was smart enough that she was probably somewhat suspicious already. No doubt she knew the risks in returning to Aspen Lake. This town had been anything but kind to her. He was the worst offender of all. No more. He would be damned if he let his parents or anyone else hurt her.

The door opened, but he ignored it.

“Son,” his father said.

Great, another lecture, he thought.

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