Free A Magical Christmas by Heather Graham Page B

When Jon pitched in, he was great at it. It was just that he pitched in when he felt like it, on his terms.
    Maybe she was wrong, maybe she did whine too much, maybe she should get a grip, and get going. Lots of women maintained homes under muchworse circumstances. Some husbands didn’t lift a finger to help.
    Sometimes she thought she was crazy to be so hurt and furious over something that had happened so long ago.
    But that was just it. Something had been shattered, and it made all the little molehills turn into mountains. Sometimes she looked at him and hated him, and then there were times, like last night, if he’d just been a little more persistent, she would have wanted to be held and cherished and loved.
    As she drove across U.S. 1, Cruddy-Disgusting-Joe was ambling along the sidewalk once again, his feet shuffling as he moved, his eyes downcast. He looked up at her. His colorless eyes were bleak. He paused so that she could turn into her workplace. She shivered.
    She realized, entering her building, that Cruddy-Disgusting-Joe had looked at her in much the same way Jon had earlier that morning.
    The Vinzetti case wasn’t scheduled to be back in the courtroom until after the holidays. Jon had a lot of cleanup work to tend to in his office—he’d made a promise not to be available during their Christmas holiday and he meant to keep that promise.
    Even if it all seemed incredibly futile now anyway.
    It had looked like the perfect escape for all of them. Snow, snowmen, snowball fights, a roaring fire by night. Of course, a ski lodge would have provided that entertainment, but they would have all been off skiing by day, avoiding one another as they did every day of their lives.
    Was this holiday going to matter?
    Probably not. There had been something about the way Julie had cringed when he’d touched her last night. Damn, he’d been wrong, but it didn’t seem right that he should spend the rest of his life feeling like a slug because of it. He was suddenly exhausted with trying to make things right again when it seemed he made his wife’s skin crawl.
    “Hey, Jon!”
    Trent Ragnor stuck his head into Jon’s office, grinned, and came on in.
    “Hey, Trent,” Jon responded.
    Trent perched on the corner of Jon’s desk, smiling. He arched a brow. “You coming for drinks this afternoon?” he asked. “It’s getting closer to the holiday, you know. It’s time to be merry, merry, merry, and you’re walking around looking more and more like Uncle Scrooge.”
    “I’m just tired. Looking forward to some time off.”
    Trent looked surprised. “Oh, yeah? You’re going to go off and do the family thing? Old man Bentley gave you the time?”
    Old man Bentley was the senior partner in the firm. He frowned on anything that was a distraction from the firm, and a distraction from the firm’s quest to acquire money and prestige. Jon had wanted the holiday with his family badly, and he’d put a lot at risk when he’d stood fast in asking for the time off.
    Now he was wondering if he wasn’t a massive fool. He’d risked his job and reputation to be with a woman who cringed when he touched her.
    It was for his kids, he reminded himself.
    For kids who didn’t want to be with him either. Except maybe for Ashley. And maybe it was worth it just for Ashley’s sake.
    “Yeah, I’m doing the family thing.”
    “Great,” Trent acknowledged, but he grimaced. Trent was about to turn forty-five. Despite the fact that he was smooth, blond/tanned/beachboy handsome, he was taking middle age badly. On his twenty-first birthday, he’d married into money, the daughter of a now retired senior partner from the firm. His wife played tennis, golf, scheduled plastic surgery, and planned social affairs. They had two children in out-of-state colleges. There would neverbe a divorce, and they’d never much notice what the other did.
    Jon didn’t want Trent’s life.
    But once in a while he envied Trent’s freedom.
    And his ability to