Page 80 of One Touch

Sometimes I’d still pretend to be annoyed and like I wasn’t sucking in a breath to hold her scent in my lungs a while longer.

“Okay! I got it!” Kate broke me from my thoughts as she bounded down the porch steps with a duffel braced against her shoulder and a garment bag slung over her back. She’d needed to return to the house to pack for our overnight stay in Chicago.

I stepped forward, taking her bags from her and guiding her into the passenger seat. After stowing her bags in the back, I climbed behind the wheel.

Kate let loose a heavy sigh.

“Ready for this?” I asked.

She chewed her bottom lip, and my nerves fizzled in my gut.

Please don’t back out. I don’t think I can make it through this without you.

“Definitely not,” Kate said, but immediately laughed.

I chuckled and shook my head. “They know you’re coming. I called Declan to give him a heads-up, and he sounded ... indifferent.” I laced my fingers with hers. My brother was a fucking moron to have ever let Kate go. I’d at least have the decency to mourn my loss when this was all over. I sure as hell wouldn’t be as epically stupid as my brother.

She pressed her lips together. “Sounds about right.”

I shifted to face her. “Hey.” Her soft eyes lifted to mine. “We don’t have to do this. Say the word and I will call my parents and back out.” I shrugged. “Fuck ’em.”

That made her laugh, and the band around my chest loosened. She swallowed hard and shook her head. “No, it’s okay. You’ve done so much for us. It’s the least I can do. What’s one family Thanksgiving?”

I let out a gentle laugh. “Christmas, actually.”

Her brows pinched together.

It was a minor detail I had intentionally left out. “Mom is using the rare occasion we’re all together to stage her Christmas photos, but don’t worry. She’ll be so busy being the center of attention that she’ll forget all about us.”

Kate blew out a steady breath and faced the windshield. “Awesome.”

* * *

It was not awesome.

I gripped Kate’s hand as chaos erupted in front of us. My parents’ house, a five-thousand-square-foot Tudor along Chicago’s Gold Coast, looked as though the North Pole had vomited all over it.

Swags and garlands hung across every available surface. Tasteful orchestral Christmas music blaring over the in-home speakers could even be heard outside, and the array of cars lining the driveway told me theintimate family gatheringmy mother had promised was anything but.

A woman with a headset and iPad was directing people to their designated spots as she attempted to coordinate the chaos.

My mother had hired acoordinator.

A low throb hammered behind my eyes.

I tightened my grip on the steering wheel. “Let’s just go. I can get us back in less than three hours, or we can stay at the penthouse. I don’t care. Anything is better than this.”

Kate looked over and smiled. It was the kind of demure, put-together smile I’d remembered from the holiday or two she’d arrived on Declan’s arm.

Not her real smile.

“It’s fine.” She gently cleared her throat and left me in the truck as she held her head high and opened the back door to retrieve her clothing. “You coming?”

“Yep.” I climbed out and stifled an annoyed grumble.

As we walked up to the house, my mother, adorned in a long, body-hugging green velvet dress, spotted us. She flapped her hands in excitement but didn’t leave the front entryway, and she let us walk to her. “You made it!”

“Mom, what is all this?” I gestured to the chaos around us.

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