Page 47 of If You Give a CEO a Chance

Fallon: That doesn’t sound so bad.

Harrison: Try getting stuck in a snowdrift with a bunch of kids and lugging a giant candy cane so large it could be a walking stick for giants.

Fallon: Those poor kids.

Harrison: I’ll have you know I’m a pro with them. My niece Lola adores me.

Fallon: Do you bribe her?

Harrison: Sometimes.

Harrison: Did you check the fridge?

Fallon: Yeah. Thanks for replacing the tuna.

Harrison: It was the least I could do.

Harrison: What about the pot?

Fallon: It was very thoughtful.

Harrison: Is it what you had in mind?

Fallon: It’s perfect.

Fallon: Why’d you do all this for me?

Harrison: Everyone deserves a little holiday magic.

My body shivers at his unexpected kindness, leaving me breathless.

Damn him for being so unpredictable. One minute he’s being a jerk, and the next he’s playing Santa, going out of his way to make sure I have a good Christmas. It’s downright frustrating. Before, the line between us was clear, and staying mad at him was easy. Now that he’s playing the nice guy, I’m thrown off balance, at risk of the defenses I’ve carefully built to start crumbling.

Fallon: This doesn’t mean I forgive you.

Harrison: Likewise.

Fallon: Goodnight, Harrison.

Harrison: Have a merry Christmas, Fallon.

I should get rid of the tree and be done with it. I’m only staying with Harrison until I’ve saved enough to cover a few months’ rent for a small storefront where I can open my first restaurant. My past with Harrison should be nothing more than a reminder never to trust a hockey player.

But I can’t bring myself to toss the tree. The smell of pine transports me to Christmas morning as a kid. My parents wouldlet me open one gift before breakfast, and then we’d make my mom’s famous eggnog pancakes together, paired with her homemade cinnamon syrup. She would patiently help me pour the milk into the bowl and fold in the flour, making sure I didn’t overmix the batter. Her hands would gently cover mine, guiding my every move, leaving me with a memory that stays close to my heart.

I brush away a tear as Cat enters the living room. My body stiffens when he notices the tree, but instead of reacting, he hops onto the couch and settles into the blanket in the corner,

meowing loudly as he looks at the TV.

“Seriously?” I ask with a raised brow. “You can’t comfort me like a normal pet?”

He meows louder, clawing the blanket, giving the TV another purposeful glance, clearly wanting me to turn it on.

“Fine, but don’t think I don’t see through your innocent act. You’re plotting an attack on the tree, and I’m not letting that happen.” After we watch a movie, I’ll move it into my room to avoid it getting destroyed. “You might be sorely disappointed,” I warn Cat. “Tonight, we’re watchingElf.”

Caught in the Christmas spirit, I decide once I turn the movie on for Cat, I’m going to whip up a batch of my mom’s pancakes for dinner. I’ve avoided her recipes in the past because it’s been a painful reminder that she’s not here with me. However, tonight feels like the right time to give myself permission to enjoy the holiday spirit that I’ve been missing since my parents died.

And, though much as I hate to admit it, I have Harrison to thank for that.

---