Page 190 of The Christmas Wife

She giggles, "Looks like your friends decided to pay you a visit on Christmas day?"

"Something I can do without." I grouse.

"Weston... Hey...oops. Sorry, man," Damian apologizes.

I turn, glare at where Damian stands in the doorway, face averted.

"I didn't see anything. I promise."

"Fuck off," I growl.

"A bit too late, old chap."

"Where the fuck is the wanker?" Another voice—Arpad's calls out.

"If he thinks he can spend Christmas on his own, he's got another think coming. What's he up to— Oh hell, did we interrupt something?"Is that Edward?

I grab a pillow, throw it in the direction of the doorway. "Back the fuck off, you tossers."

"Sorry."

"Didn't mean any harm."

"You ah—finish what you started. We'll be at your bar."

The voices fade.

"Close the fucking door behind you," I call out.

The door slams shut.

This is what happens when your friends have unrestricted access to your apartment, something I intend to rectify at the first opportunity. I draw in a breath, glance down at my fiancée, "Where were we, babe?"

"We need to get out there." She stabs a finger in my chest.

I lower my head to hers, "In good time."

61

Knock knock!

Who’s there?

Imogen.

Imogen who?

Imogen life without chocolate... (and Weston...)

-From Amelie's diary

Amelie

I walk into Weston's living room just as the doorbell rings.

Weston—who's changed into slacks and shirt— opens it as Saint, Sinclair and Jace walk in carrying a massive Christmas tree wrapped in a net. Weston leads them to the far corner of the room, where they cut off the net and proceed to set it up.

Weston turns to me, crooks a finger. I frown; he smirks. I mentally throw up my hands, walk over to join him. He wraps his arm around me tugs me into his side.

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