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Chapter 9

Asshole.

I haven’t thought of him in years, but the sight of his name in my own jaunty handwriting brings back the hurt and the anger I once felt toward him. Balling up the page, I rip it from the address book and throw it to the ground. Fuck him.

Behind me, strong hands touch my shoulders, and I lean back into my lover’s touch. Jon kisses my forehead, and I feel his smile against my skin. “Everything all right?” he wants to know.

I cover his hand with mine. “My mom wants a Christmas card from us.”

He picks up on it instantly. “Us. She said that?”

When I nod, he laughs and kisses me again, dipping my head back to cover my lips with his. “It’s about damn time,” he murmurs.

I agree.

Holiday Stockings