Page 63 of Unwrapping Romance

“As a matter of fact, I was. You’re crazy for making me go shopping on Black Friday.”

“As I said, buy yourself something nice to compensate for the hell you’ll go through tomorrow.” He winked and left the kitchen.

“Don’t you worry about that, Mr. Atlas,” I whispered.

“Did you say something?” He popped his head back in.

“No. I didn’t say anything.” I smiled.

We had a nice dinner at The Ellington, along with others who opted to dine out instead of cooking for Thanksgiving. Ellie’s eyes scanned the restaurant, taking in the Christmas décor —the elegant garland with twinkling lights and the flickering of the red and gold candles that sat on each table.

“I feel like I’m in a damn Hallmark movie,” I said, sipping my wine.

“I know. Me too. And there’s nothing worse than those cheesy, unrealistic Christmas movies.” Jack tipped his drink to his lips.

After we finished eating and stepped out the restaurant door, snowflakes steadily fell. Ellie held the palms of her hands up and giggled as the snow fell onto them.

“I am so sick of this snow already,” Jack said, picking Ellie up. “Where is Eric?”

The Escalade pulled up. Jack opened the door and put Ellie inside.

“I’m sorry, Jack. There was an accident, and the street I needed to turn down was blocked. I had to go a different way.”

“It’s fine, Eric. Take us home.”

While Jack put Ellie to bed, I poured him a bourbon and myself a glass of wine. When he walked into the living room, I handed him his glass.

“Here’s to surviving this treacherous day.” I held my glass up.

“You mean barely surviving.” He sighed, tipping his glass to mine.

We took our drinks and sat on the couch. Jack stretched his legs and placed his feet on the coffee table while I tucked mine under me, sitting sideways and facing him.

“What were Thanksgivings like for you growing up?” I asked him.

“Same shit. Different holiday,” he said. “I do remember a couple of Thanksgivings as a family before my mother passed away.”

“I know today was hard on both of us since we hate the holidays, but it’s a memory that Ellie will have for the rest of her life. You did good, Jack.” I smiled.

“You mean the memory of her spending Thanksgiving without her mother?” His brow arched.

“I wasn’t talking about that. I was talking about the first Thanksgiving she spent with her father.”

His phone rang, and his eyes narrowed when he pulled it from his pocket.

“Who is it?” I asked.

“It’s a restricted number. Jack Atlas here.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jack

“I want to speak to Ellie, Jack.” I heard Claire’s voice on the other end of the phone.

“She’s sleeping. How dare you call me after what you did.”

“Jack, don’t make this harder than it already is.”

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