It's a Wonderful Tangled Christmas Carol (Tangled, #4.5) (7)

Her jade eyes round with surprise. “Oh, nothing as drastic as that. If things became that desperate I wouldn’t be doing a very good job. I’m here because you’re starting down the wrong path, Drew. We need to nip your behavior in the bud; get you back to where you should be.”

With a chuckle, I sit down in my chair and roll closer to the phone.

Her head tilts to the side, regarding me. “You don’t believe anything I’m telling you, do you?”

“I’m sorry, but no, I don’t.”

She’s unperturbed. “That’s all right. No one believes at first.”

You’re probably wondering why I’m not getting the hell out of here. I’m a fantastic judge of character, and in this case, I’m just not feeling the psycho vibe. In fact, despite the words that are coming out of her mouth, she seems completely harmless. So I play along.

“For argument’s sake, let’s suspend reality for a second and say that you are my guardian angel. I think I should fire you. You’ve done a shitty job. Where were you when I thought Kate was cheating on me, and I pulled that stupid stunt with the stripper? That would’ve been a good time to show up, kick me in the shin, and say, ‘Hey *, it’s not what you think.’?”

She nods sympathetically. “It was difficult to watch you go through that. But I couldn’t intervene. It was a lesson you could only learn by living through it. Kate, as well.”

“But you’re here now?”

“That’s right.”

“Because I’m about to commit some grievous sin?”

“Because you already have.”

I brace my elbows on the chair, clasp my hands, and rest my fingers against my lips. “You’ve got your wings crossed, honey. I haven’t done anything. I work hard every single day to be a good father and a devoted, thoughtful husband.”

She raises a doubtful eyebrow, reminding me of Kate.

“Thoughtful? Really? Were you being thoughtful when you came to work on Christmas Eve, even though Kate asked you not to?”

I roll my eyes. “This is a onetime thing. It’s not a big deal.”

“It’s never a big deal, Drew. Until it is. Do you think the Grand Canyon was created in a day? No. It happened in increments—one small grain of soil at a time. Tonight is how it starts. Then you’re missing birthdays, basketball games, anniversaries, simple but crucial quiet moments. You mean to make it up to them later, but later never comes.”

I put up my hand. “Hold up—that’s . . . that’s not gonna happen. I would never do that.”

“Just like you would never leave Kate to put together your son’s gifts all alone on Christmas Eve?”

Bull’s-eye.

She has a point. A completely impossible, unrealistic point—that makes me feel like dog shit all the same.

“The first step downhill is the hardest, Drew. After that . . . sliding is easy. Taking our loved ones for granted works the same way.”

I stare at her for a moment. And she looks so sincere, I almost believe it . . .

Until I come to my f*cking senses.

I laugh. “Did Kate put you up to this? Are you a friend of Dee-Dee’s? An actress?”

She sighs. “Tonight, you will be visited by three spirits.”

“Wow, a foursome. Will they all look like you?”

That makes her chuckle. “No.”

I pick up the phone from my desk. “While this has been memorable—and totally bizarre—I have work to get done.”

“They will come to you one by one—the spirits of Christmas past, present, and future—to show you what you will never again forget.”

“Since it’s Christmas Eve and all, it seems only fair to warn you—I’m calling security.”

“Good luck, Drew. It was a pleasure meeting you, at last.”

I look down at the phone and punch in the extension for the security desk, then glance back at the couch. But—you guessed it—she’s gone.

What. The. Fuck?

I stand up and look out the door. No trace.

“Can I help you, Mr. Evans?” Sam asks through the receiver.

“Did you see . . .” I clear my throat. “Have you let anyone up to our floor tonight? A woman?”

“No, sir. It’s been quiet down here.”

I knew he was going to say that.

“Well, if anyone comes by, make sure you call before letting them up. Okay, Sam?”

“Sure thing, Mr. Evans.”

I put the phone in its cradle and stand there, brow furrowed. What the hell was that?

My cell phone chimes with an incoming email. It’s Media Solutions’ lead attorney, confirming our conference in . . . damn it, in two hours.

I brush off the uncomfortable, eerie feelings left from the crazy woman’s little visit, and sit down at my desk to focus on what’s really important. What I came here to do—pissed off my wife to do.

Close this major f*cking deal.





chapter 3


Here’s where shit gets weird.

Weirder.

Ten minutes later, while I’m detailing the projected profit margin in my proposal, I hear a giggle from the hallway.

A feminine, familiar giggle.

And a second later, my niece Mackenzie comes breezing through my office door.