Page 2 of All I Want For Christmas Is You

Luckily, three months ago, he’d gotten a consulting gig. Attracted by his résumé, a woman found him on a professional social media app. She needed his expertise to help her develop a lithium trading company. Once they got venture capital money, he’d be the CFO, and Petra would be the CEO, and then, he’d get a salary.

Getting the job had energized him. He’d gone back to the gym and popped out of bed each morning. He’d found his purpose in life. She’d be forever grateful to Petra, a woman she’d never met but who’d offered her husband a lifeline. It might not come with income or benefits, but it came with a massive helping of hope.

On her way up the stairs, it occurred to her that by coming home early, she’d ruin the surprise. She couldn’t do that if Scott had gone to this much effort for her.

Margot: Good news! They let me off early. I’m coming home.

It had been so long since she’d squeezed her babies. Not only couldn’t they afford airfare, but their apartment didn’t have an extra bedroom.

When she saw he hadn’t read the message, she figured he was probably setting up. Maybe balloons or crepe paper, as she’d done for all their birthdays over the years. She could imagine her daughter and son baking a cake together. The mess they’ll make! Dancing to their playlists and fighting over who got to lick the beaters.

Oh, my God, yes. Please. Give it all back to me. All those blissful years of the four of them making cookies and sitting around the dinner table laughing and sharing stories about their day.

She missed her old life so fiercely. Not the house or fancy cars, not any of the designer clothes. Just her family, all together.

Hitching her purse onto her shoulder, she climbed the final three steps. Fortunately, she didn’t need to worry about her clothes smelling like coffee or the makeup that had worn off since it would just be the four of them. Scott was estranged from his family, and her parents had died several years ago. Once they’d moved to this apartment—several towns over from where they’d raised their kids—they’d lost touch with all their friends.

She rounded the corner, and when she reached her unit, she was a little surprised not to see balloons or a sign on the door.

Yeah, but that’s something I would’ve done. They’ll do things their way.

And it’ll be fabulous.

She checked her phone one more time—just in case they needed her to stay away a little longer—but nope. No messages. And then, she shoved the key into the lock and stepped into the apartment.

The stillness hit her first. It smelled like it did every day when they were both at work and left the windows closed: the faint scent of last night’s chicken and the stuffiness of recycled air. Which was odd since her daughter brought her signature coconut and vanilla scent wherever she went. Not to mention her chaos. All growing up, she’d come in shouting, kicking off her shoes, and dropping her hoodie on the nearest chair.

So, had she gotten it wrong? Had they actually forgotten her birthday?

Is Scott still at work?

From the entryway, Margot could see the kitchen. It was as clean as she’d left it last night. Except for that one glass.

One?

As soon as she shut the door, she dropped her purse. “Hello?” Maybe her husband was on his way from the airport? He’d have arranged for their flights to arrive close together. “Scott?”

“Yeah. I’m here.” He sounded tense. Stern.

Her pulse quickened. He’s pretending. They’d probably just arrived and hadn’t had time to decorate. Maybe they’d bought a cake.

Who cares about any of that?

Unable to keep from grinning, she came around the short hallway and into the living area. But her spirits crashed when she saw her husband alone, still wearing his white dress shirt and suit pants.

Tall and fit, he was a handsome man. His graying hair only made him look more elegant. “We need to talk.”

Shit. Something’s wrong. Anxiety squeezed the air from her lungs.

He gestured to the couch. “Sit.”

Oh, God. She needed answers immediately, so she did what he asked. “Just say it. Is it Owen? Tell me Emerson’s okay.”

“What? No. The kids are fine.”

Oh, no. Petra let him go. Despair crashed over her. She couldn’t bear to see him fall back into a depression. “It’s okay. If you lost your job, don’t worry. We’re doing fine. I swear to you, a year from now, things will look different. I don’t have a crystal ball, I can’t see into the future, but we won’t be in this situation. Something’s going to—”

“Stop.” He shook his head and pursed his lips as if he’d tasted something bitter. “Just stop trying to manage me. I’m a man. I’m not your son who didn’t get into Yale.” He drew in a breath, and for the first time, she noticed he had yet to look her in the eyes. “I’ll get to the point. I’ve fallen in love with Petra, and I’m moving in with her. Tonight.”

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