A Billionaire for Christmas

It’s never enough unless you’re beside me, but we will be fine. We love you. We miss you. Be safe. I love you, Mr. Stark. Come home soon.

I hit send, hoping that he’ll reply quickly. I anticipate the reply, because I know what it will say: I will. And until then, imagine me, touching you.

I sigh, smiling despite his absence.

But then Not delivered appears beneath my message bubble, and though I try and try to resend, nothing will go through.

My smile morphs into a scowl. A husband who owns a piece of every industry in the world, including telecoms, and I can’t get a simple text through? If I weren’t feeling so sorry for myself, I might actually find the irony amusing.

The cloak of sadness that’s enfolded me loosens a bit when I reach the kitchen and see the pile of Christmas cards from yesterday’s mail that Gregory left on the breakfast table. I smile at the colorful envelopes, then frown when I see the familiar looping style of my mother’s handwriting.

My chest tightens and for the millionth time that day, I wish Damien was here. Before, I’d simply wanted him. Now, I want his strength.

But he’s not here, and I have only myself to rely on.

Get a grip, Nicholas, I think as I draw a breath. Only myself to rely on? Physically, maybe. But that’s all. Because even when he’s not beside me, Damien is in my heart, helping me find the strength I’ve had all along.

And that means that I can handle this. My mother and all the baggage that goes along with her.

I steel myself, then pluck the card up with the same distaste I’d show for a nasty tissue left on the floor. I slide the silver letter opener that Gregory used as a paperweight under the flap, then pull out the card.

The image is simple. A line drawing of a Christmas tree. The contents inside are much more complicated.

Nichole.

I know that we did not part well, but I think this rift has gone on long enough. I want to see my granddaughter. Let me know when I can visit, or when you and the little one can come to Texas.

Happy holidays,

Mother

My stomach twists, and I feel sick. Granddaughter? Singular? Of course that’s what she’d write. Because to my mother, Lara doesn’t count at all. And you and the little one? As if Damien and our eldest simply don’t exist in her world.

Fury rips through me, so powerful and violent I feel physically ill.

What the hell? I mean, seriously. What. The. Hell.

I pace, trying to burn off some of this energy. Craving Damien but knowing I can’t have him, and the knowing makes my chest tighten.

I can’t even seek comfort with my girls. I’m too upset. Too rattled. And they’d pick up on it. I know their sloppy kisses and snuggly hugs would make me feel better, but this isn’t a burden I want them to bear. Not coming from that woman. I want my girls to stay far away from her in every way possible.

The sharp chime of the doorbell pulls me from my thoughts. Evelyn, I think, as relief flows through me. Because right then, with the exception of Damien, she really is the person I want to see most in the world.

“Texas!” Evelyn says as I open the door. “I’m so sorry I missed you yesterday. What did my girls think of the Winter Wonderland?”

“They loved it, and they missed you. So did I,” I add, ushering her in and through the house to the back patio. She takes a seat by the pool, and I hurry to check on the girls and grab a bottle of wine.

In her late fifties, Evelyn has spent a lifetime in the entertainment industry. She was Damien’s agent back when he first started taking endorsements. Now she represents Jamie and any number of our friends. She’s smart and strong and doesn’t take shit from anyone.

She was one of the first people I met in Los Angeles, and definitely one of my favorites. She’s held my hand through trauma and drama, and I’m so glad that she showed up in my life to fill the hole in my heart where my mother should live, but never occupied.

“You’re coming to the gala for the Children’s Foundation tomorrow, right? Lara is dying for you to see her in her costume.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” she says. “And I’ll bring the girls’ presents to your party after.” She takes a sip of her wine, then studies me. My whole life I’ve worn masks. Social Nikki. Beauty Queen Nikki. Science Nerd Nikki. Evelyn is one of the few people around whom I’ve truly let down my guard, and I have to fight the urge to hug myself, because I’m certain that she can see the mish-mash of violent emotions roiling inside of me.