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I don’t answer.
“You’re gonna go home to the two alpha male badasses who love you and you’re gonna let them deck your halls,” she says. “That’s what Christmas is all about.”
I chortle. “Deck my halls?”
“Fill your stocking. Jingle your balls. Fuck your brains out. Woman, you get the idea.”
“You’re right,” I say with a nod. “I’m just a little rattled by it, that’s all. I mean, I love them. They love me. We’re happy, but I can’t seem to shake the feeling that it’s all just... temporary.”
“Aw, Phoebe,” she says, dripping with sympathy.
“How long can something like this really last?” I ask. “Honestly.”
Jackie presses her lips together. “I don’t know, girl, but...” she shrugs, “can anyone answer that about any relationship? Quote unquote normal or not?”
“I guess not.” I eye my desk. “Sorry I interrupted your holiday tryst.”
She waves a hand. “Eh, it was worth it to see him stutter out that excuse. Old dudes can be so adorable sometimes.”
I chuckle. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“Well, we’ll get out of your hair.” She rests her hand on the doorknob. “Unless you want me to stick around for some girl talk.”
“No, you leave. No reason why your halls can’t be decked today.”
“Damn straight.” She flashes a wink. “Merry Christmas, honey.”
“Merry Christmas,” I repeat.
She leaves, quietly closing the door behind her.
I pat the seat beside me, offering it to Stinky. She hops up and lays her head on my lap, easily sensing my unhappiness with her doggy senses.
I let out a deep sigh. “It’s okay, girl,” I tell her, hoping she’ll believe me.
Because I sure as hell don’t.
Chapter Four
Max
In my line of work, there’s no better feeling than keeping a well-known, dangerous man behind bars.
However, today, I may have stumbled on something even better.
Like keeping a well-known, dangerous man behind bars in front of his amoral, sadistic shark of a lawyer…
And my father, Keith Monahan.
Merry fucking Christmas to me.
“Max.”
I hear his low growl beneath the murmur of passersby as we spill out of the judge’s chambers. I continue forward, pretending to ignore it. This ain’t Los Angeles.
He’s on my turf now.
I keep my stride in the hallway, casually making my way toward the elevators. “What’s up, Dad?” I ask as he matches my pace beside me.
