Chapter 8: Cold Feet and Christmas DecorationsTristan’s blood threatened to boil. Burning hot, it bubbled inside him, making him squeeze the fork hard enough to hurt his hand. He ground his teeth, and it was all because Aiden was there, because he sat picking at the omelette Jen had made especially for him. But it was more than the picking. Tristan’s skin tightened because of the look Aiden had in his eyes. It was not a look he wanted to see there. He looked defeated, and Tristan didn’t like it, didn’t like it at all.
“Did you get hold of who you needed to?” Why the f**k was he asking? It was obvious things hadn’t gone the way Aiden had hoped.
“I think I’ll just have to head back home when the roads have opened. I can stay in a hotel, if you want.”
Tristan choked on his coffee, then he
