“How can you say that?” I whisper, feeling myself start to break. I try to stay strong, but sometimes even the hardiest of us have our breaking points. “If she’s your kid, you have a right to know. She has a right to know. You’re a better father than a thousand Adam Carmichaels. His money doesn’t make him a good person or a good dad, and you know it.”

“Better for her to have a young, healthy absentee father than no father at all. Marnye, I hate it, too. I do. But what good will it do to break up their family? Isabella loves the man she’s always thought of as her dad, and she’s well-taken care of. Jennifer, too, and Marley. You have a place there now, and—”

“I love you, but I’m tired,” I blurt, cutting off the conversation and standing up to give Charlie a kiss on the forehead. I can only handle so much at once without breaking. “Do you want me to help you into bed?”

He laughs, but it’s a sound that’s equally mixed with melancholy and mirth both.

“I can put myself to bed still, Marnye-bear, don’t you worry.” I help him up off the couch, and he gives me one more hug before bed. “Think about what I said, okay? Sometimes things aren’t perfect, but we do the best we can with what we have.”

He heads off down the hall and closes his door behind him.

I sink down on the ground in front of the Christmas tree and look at that ornament, tears streaming down my face. After a while, I can’t take it anymore. I get my phone and text Zack, slipping out the front door to meet him when he pulls up in his orange McLaren.

“I can’t go anywhere, I don’t want to leave him alone, but I can’t take it. Zack, I can’t do it. I can’t just sit here and watch him die.”

Zack folds me in his arms and pulls me close, holding me so tight that for the briefest of moments, I feel shielded from the ugliness in the world. How weird is that? The boy who was once the source of much of my darkness is now the light that chases it away.

“You can, Marnye, you’re strong enough for that. And if for some reason, you feel yourself faltering, I’ll be that strength for you.” I bury my face under Zack’s letterman jacket, hiding the freezing tip of my nose from the cold, winter air. He smells like grapefruit and freshly laundered clothes and maybe a little like apple cider and cinnamon.

“You smell like Christmas,” I whisper, closing my eyes. Zack strokes his hand over the back of my head, running his fingers through my hair.

“My mom and sister heard about me cooking on Thanksgiving and demanded a repeat performance. We made molasses cookies from scratch and drank cider.” There’s a pause and Zack exhales as I step back and look up at his face. He’s all serious and shit until he notices the reindeer antlers on my hood. “Are you … dressed up like Rudolph?” He flips the hood up over my head, and then leans down to peer in at me with those dark, brooding eyes of his.

“Rudolph would imply a red nose,” I grumble, reaching up to rub at my own. “Is it that red already? Because I seriously thought I was just dressed up like Blitzen … or something.”

Zack laughs, this low, soft sweet sound that’s so at odds with his big, broad shoulders and imposing stare that I smile. Despite everything, I actually smile.

“Come on, let’s get inside before your nose starts glowing. Cute as it is, I’d rather hang out with you than watch Santa hook you to his sleigh.”

“You still believe in Santa, huh?” I ask as Zack opens the front door for me and ushers me in. The delicate whisper of Christmas carols drifts from the kitchen, and Charlie’s loud snores reverberate down the hall. His snoring used to bug me, so much so that sometimes I’d sleep with ear plugs or put a pillow over my face. But now … I wish I could fall sleep to that bear-like grumble forever.

“Duh. Who doesn’t? You want to invite Krampus in to wreak havoc?” I head toward my room, but Zack pulls me into the kitchen instead. “Do you mind?” he asks, pointing at the fridge, and I nod, noticing that small but important difference between him and Windsor.

The prince just waltzes around like he owns the world. He opens cabinets and fridges without even thinking to ask. I like that about him, but I also like that Zack, at least, has learned some humility. Other people’s boundaries actually mean something to him now.

“Go right ahead.” I watch as Zack gathers ingredients from around the kitchen and lays them out on the counter. “You believe in Krampus, too, huh? Scary.”

“So scary. But not as scary as the epic fights between my dad and grandpa.” Zack pulls his phone out, looks up a recipe, and sets it aside before he moves to the sink to wash his big hands. Mm. Football player, rich boy, baking Christmas cookies in my house at midnight on Christmas Eve-Eve, that is, the day before Christmas Eve. Maybe I’m the only person in the world that calls it Eve-Eve?

“What were they fighting about this time?” I ask as Zack pulls me forward and puts an egg in my hand. There’s a bottle of molasses on the counter, so I’m guessing we’re recreating the same cookies he made with his family. None of the lamps are on in the house, just the colored strands of lights on the tree, and the single white strand wrapped in garland over the sink.

My house, my sink, I remind myself, my lips curving into a private smile. The last thing Dad needed was the stress of a move, or an overbearing landlord. Harper du Pont is going down, and going down hard. When I come at her, the whole world will know.

“All sorts of things. I mean, there was the usual stuff: politics, religion, whatever. They got into this heated verbal brawl over whether the sweet potato dish I made should have marshmallows on it or not. That’s when I knew things were getting bad.” Zack’s low, rumbling voice seems right at home in the tiny space. Although he looks a bit like a giant in a dwarf’s kitchen, he takes up the space admirably, like he belongs there regardless.

I crack my egg into the bowl and toss the shell in the trash. I’m not going to tell Dad about the house, not just yet. If I do, then I’ll have to explain why Windsor bought me a house without sounding like I’m living some teen version of Fifty Shades of Grey, like oh, Mr. Sexy Man, I love that you own the place I live in. Control me, dominant me. Bleh. I shiver as I think about the prince fucking me in the barn. Ugh. Yeah, no, it’s best if I just don’t tell Dad until he … until he gets healthy again.

“Did they fight about me and you, too?” I ask, and Zack doesn’t answer right away, stirring the dry ingredients together and then reaching up to rub his hand over his forehead, smearing it with a streak of flour.

“They both see me as their legacy, their pawn, some piece to move around a board.” Zack and I combine our bowls, and soon we’ve got a sweet-smelling, sticky dough that Zack puts in the freezer to firm up a bit. When I move over to the sink to wash my hands, he steps up behind me and curves his arms around me, helping me cleanse the dough from under my fingernails. “They want me to marry Kiara Xiao.”

“The girl Tristan—” I start, but that memory is too much right now. I can’t handle it. “No.”

“No,” Zack breathes, turning the sink off and pulling me against him. “She’s not right for me.”

“Yeah, because she’s a spoiled rotten brat who fits in so well with the Harpies I can’t tell her claws apart from the rest of them.” I turn around, so close to Zack that the swell of my breasts brush up against his chest. I bet I look pretty ridiculous in my outfit, but not him. He doesn’t look ridiculous at all, just … gorgeous, like the front cover of some sports magazine. It’s his lower lip that really does it for me, so full and ripe. My thumb comes up of its own accord and traces the shape of it. Zack shudders and sighs under my touch, like I’ve somehow managed to put him in a thrall.

“Well, all of those things, and also … because she isn’t you.” He shrugs his shoulders and steps away from me, like he’s trying to extricate himself from the tension between us. Not sure why. Doesn’t he know I’m going to ask him to stay the night? “You could leave the dough in the fridge overnight, and bake it in the morning so the cookies are fresh.”

“I could do that,” I say with a nod, folding my brown-furred arms over my equally brown-furred chest. “And you could try to sneak out in the morning before Dad knows you’re here?” I look up at Zack’s face and watch as his tight expression loosens up a little.

“You sure you still want me, after Zayd and Windsor?” He pauses, frowning slightly. I didn’t have to tell the guys about me and Windsor because, well, Wind did it for me before I got a chance. And then I jumped in the pool and stayed under just long enough to make them all worry. But just a little. A little angst is fun. Too much gives me a stomachache.

“Why would you think I wouldn’t?” I ask, and Zack shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair.

“I don’t know. I mean, how long do you really want to put up with all of us?” He looks at me like he’s certain I’m not going to pick him, like our time together is short-lived.

“As long as I can?” I respond, and then I reach down and take his hand, pulling him toward the bedroom and closing the door behind us.