“He what?” Anna Victoria asked. “Is it bad? Does he have a girlfriend?”
“Or a secret family stashed back in England?” Temperance offered.
She shook her head. “No, no. Even worse. He hates Christmas.”
“Hates Christmas?” Anna Victoria frowned. “What do you mean? Who could hate Christmas?”
“Exactly.” And she proceeded to tell them what happened during the ride over. “And then he went all cold on me. Like, he just shut down.” And if she were honest with herself, that probably annoyed her the most. “I don’t think this is going to work out.”
The two women looked at each other. “Surely it’s not that serious,” Anna Victoria said. “You’re mates, you should be able to work it out.”
“But it’s Christmas.”
“Gabriel told me how this season means a lot to you,” Temperance said. “And why.”
“So did Damon.” Anna Victoria nodded. “And I understand, believe me.”
A lump began to form in J.D.’s throat. She didn’t mind that her best friends told their mates, it wasn’t like it was a secret. “Then you know why it’s so important to me.”
“He doesn’t,” Temperance pointed out.
She swallowed the lump, and her throat loosened enough to allow her to speak again. “I didn’t have time to tell him. But I didn’t think he’d be so against the holiday. What if he hates it so much that he won’t ever want to celebrate it? Do you think he’s maybe part of one of those weird cults that don’t observe any kind of special holidays? What about birthdays and—”
“Slow down, J.D.,” Anna Victoria chuckled. “I’m pretty sure he’s not part of any cult. But”—she reached out and put a hand on her shoulder—“being mates, or any relationship for that matter, involves compromise.”
“And communication,” Temperance added.
“You guys just met yesterday, cut yourself some slack,” Anna Victoria said. “And you know, I’m so proud of you guys, being so mature and taking things slow and wanting to get to know each other. This is part of that. And arguing and fighting and pushing each other’s buttons.”
“But in the end, it’s all worth it, right, Anna Victoria?” Temperance said with a wink.
“Definitely.”
The two shared a look again, but this time, both had that glow of happiness she’d only seen when they were talking about their mates. A pang of envy hit her—she wanted to someday have that look on her face too.
She gave a resigned sigh. And though she knew her pride would take a hit, she knew she had been unreasonable for throwing a tantrum and blowing things out of proportion. “Comprise. Communication. Okay. Excuse me, ladies.” Rolling up her sleeves, she marched back out to the living room.
The three men were already sitting on the couch, drinking beers and watching football on the huge flatscreen TV. Typical, she thought. She marched over to Cam, who was right on the edge of the sectional, a beer in one hand. He looked up at her as she stood over him, face inscrutable. Though they kept their heads turned to the screen, Damon and Gabriel’s gazes flickered to them.
“Is this seat taken?” she asked.
“Go ahead,” he gestured to the empty spot next to him.
Instead of sitting next to him, she planted herself on top of his knees.
“That’s my lap.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “Did I stutter, Spenser?”
Damon sighed and got up. “Let’s go check on what the girls are doing, Gabriel.”
The lion shifter rolled his eyes. “Right.
As soon as the two men left, Cam opened his mouth. “J.D.—”
“Wait.” She held a hand up. “Let me go first. So, I may have overreacted a little about the whole Christmas thing. And I’m sorry for being overdramatic.”
He looked at her, surprised. “I didn’t think you would apologize.”
“Yeah, well.” She let out a huff. “It seems to me there was a lack of communication between us.” Her shoulders sank. “Now, I’m not telling you this because I want you to feel sorry for me, okay? All I want is for you to understand. Why Christmas means so much to me, I mean.” She sucked in a deep, calming breath. “My mom, she loved the holidays. Like, a lot.”
Her chest tightened. It had been so long ago, and if it weren’t for the pictures she had around the house or the home videos her father had kept, she wasn’t sure if she would remember the details of Ivy McNamara’s face or the sound of her voice. “When Christmas rolled around, she would go all