Page 31 of Flown in for Christmas

Darcy and I stand off to the side while they get their family photo taken. Izzy wails her little head off when Natalie hands her to Santa for a picture. I take a few candid shots of the chaotic moment on my phone when a notification pings.

It’s an email from the airport about my luggage. I gasp. “They found it.”

Darcy raises a brow.

I shake my head, beaming. “I lost my bag between Dallas and LA, but the airline found it. Finally.” I skim the rest of the email. “They’ll be dropping it off at the house this afternoon.” I sigh in relief. Not only from getting my luggage back, but the clothes inside—including a few options that would work perfectly for tomorrow’s party.

Maybe even something worth Nick going ‘wild’ over.

Fifteen.

Nick

I hand my fathera glass of orange juice and set a bottle of water on the end table beside him. “Did you want anything else?” I ask. “Mom and Aunt Sara are putting together some fruit and cheese trays for tomorrow.”

He sips his juice with a huff. “If I’d known being old and frail would get this kind of treatment, I would’ve aged faster,” he grumbles.

Uncle Allen chuckles from his place on one of the two sofas in the spacious family room.

Their eyes are glued to the football game playing on the wide, eighty-inch flatscreen mounted on the wall. The warm glow from the sixteen-foot Christmas tree causes a glare on the screen from where I sit, but I don’t complain. Getting to spend the day withmy dad watching the game and catching up like we used to—even if my uncle is here shouting for defense to get off their asses and Grandpa Frank is passed out cold on the other couch—it’s been fun.

The home team scores another touchdown and my family hoots and hollers at the screen. I can’t help but laugh when Grandpa Frank snores louder—his form of celebration.

“What time will the girls be back?” Dad asks.

“Soon.” Hopefully. I stare at the clock on the wall. 4:17 PM. My sister assured me they’d be back before dinner, but then again, it is the day before Christmas Eve. I can’t imagine the time it took just to find a parking spot.

I wasn’t thrilled with the idea of Joy going anywhere that involved Darcy without me, but she assured me she could handle it. Martina also pulled me aside and told me that she’d keep an ‘extra eye’ on the situation, much to my relief.

Rich and Leah join us in the family room a short time later. They’d spent the day visiting friends and doing a bit of running around themselves. We’re in the middle of discussing end-of-the-year details for DSG—quietly, so my father doesn’t hear—when Rich says, “Leah was reading an article last night about airport thieves. I had no idea how common they were this time of year. I’m glad they were able to find Joy’s bag. I bet she’s relieved.”

My brow furrows. “They did?”

He nods. “We passed the airport van when we pulled in. I figured they must have delivered it.” I didn’t hear anyone knock. Unless someone else got the door. Rich must see my confusion. “We saw them pull out of here.”

Surely Mom would’ve come in and let me know if they’d dropped off Joy’s luggage? If she noticed it, anyhow. I stand and head to the front door. I scan the foyer and walk outside to check the front steps, but I come up empty. I try the kitchen where my mother and aunt assure me they didn’t see any deliveries come in.

I’m walking back to the family room when I hear a pull of a zipper and a muttered, “Shit,” from the dining room off the entryway. I round the corner in time to witness Eric attempting to open a piece of luggage with a purple ribbon tied to the handle.

Joy’s luggage.

“Hey,” I bark, striding to him with a clenched fist. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

He straightens, letting the bag tip over onto its side. His expression goes from caught to snake-like in an instant. “What the hell do you care,cousin?” he says, the last word said with a hiss of hatred.

I scowl at him as I reach for the bag.

He kicks it out of my grasp like the fucking child he is.

I’m in his face a split second later.

He’s roughly five inches shorter than me, so I make it a point to stare down my nose at the slimeball. “Touch my wife’s things againand I’ll make sure you never see a fucking dime of inheritance,Eric,” I sneer.

Eric’s chest puffs up and he cocks a crooked grin. “Wife, huh?” His laugh is bitter and forced. “Far as I can tell she’s just some actress playing the part of a dotingwhore.”

My fist rears back before my mind has time to process the action.

I’m blinded by rage as my knuckles connect with his jaw. All the pent-up anger I’ve been holding onto for months exploding in a single hit. His body falls to the ground with a weighted thud and crash as he takes one of the dining chairs with him.

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