Page 24 of A Very Fumbling Merry Christmas

“I need you to find the gift shop and buy your bestie an outfit. We’re in the private conference room down the hall to the left of where you’re at right now.” I can hear her asking him why she needs to buy an outfit for a wine-stained dress. I stifle a chuckle. She’s going to die when she sees the state I’m in.

I grab the phone and speak to her, woman to woman.

“Zee, I look well and truly fucked right now. Literally. Corset ripping, jizz-tastic. I’ll be arrested if I walk out into the ballroom. Can you just go and get me some pants and a shirt already? And get me some wipes. I’m a sex-mussed mess.” Hunter puts his head in his hands, and I’m not sure if he’s laughing or horrified—or both.

When I hang up the phone and hand it back to him, the look in his eyes tells me he’s definitely amused and horrified in equal measure.

“Is there nothing sacred, woman? Did you really have to divulge all that to her?”

“What do you think would happen? You’ve met Zee. There’s no chance that she’d let this slide. Hell, there’s a fifty-fifty chance that she provided me with vibrating underwear tonight. I think that says everything you need to know about the lack of boundaries between her and me.”

“It better have been her. If Coop was responsible for this and was using a remote to give you an orgasm, I’ll rip his nuts off and feed them to him.”

“It was Zee. I’m certain of it.” I’m not really sure, but Hunter looks like he’s about to pop a vein in his forehead at the slightest possibility.

I start talking about Christmas gifts I’ve ordered for everyone we know, attempting to distract him until Zee gets here with something for me to wear. I don’t even want to think about how Hunter’s mom is going to react when I reappear in a different outfit and sex hair.

Maybe we can avoid her altogether. I’m already the worst daughter-in-law on the planet, so I may as well sidestep that landmine on my way out.

When there’s a knock at the door, I jump to my feet, forgetting that I’m not wearing any jizz-catching undies.

“Shit.”

“What happened?”

“Cock snot, snail trail.” Hunter is trying so hard not to laugh at me right now, but I can see the smile creeping in at the corners of his mouth.

“Sit down and wait until I check that it’s Zee out there and not some random stranger about to witness what looks like the set of a porno gone wrong.”

I do as he asks, mostly because I’m not overly fond of the feeling of liquid dripping down my leg. Hunter opens the door a few inches, thinking he can grab the clothes and shut her out. It’s almost as if he’s never met my best friend before. If there’s an opportunity to mock me, she’s going to take it.

Zee can be pretty strong when she wants to be. It’s as if she turns into She Hulk. Pushing the door, she muscles through the smallest gap, and her face tells me everything I need to know about how I must look right now.

“Holy Mother of God. You weren’t kidding when you said you’re well and truly fucked.” She turns and winks at Hunter. “Good work, big boy. Color me impressed.”

“Can you just give her the clothes already?” Hunter looks mortified as he picks up his jacket, buttons his shirt, and puts his bowtie back on. If only it were that easy for me to put myself back together.

Zee hands me a bag, and when I pull out the sweatshirt she bought me, I’m less than enthused. It has a giant Rocky and Bullwinkle on the front. If I thought I was getting out of here without drawing attention, this is the death nail in the coffin.

“What the hell?” She smiles at me with her butter-wouldn’t-melt face.

“They didn’t have a plain shirt?”

“No. It’s a fucking gift shop, Faith. It’s not exactly couture. Now the pants on the other hand, I just couldn’t resist.” Great. I pull the pants out of the bag, and it’s clear that God hates me. Why in the hell would a gift shop want to sell pants with a million tiny Santas on them?

“These are pajamas, Zee.”

“It’s all they had. It was either that or an adult onesie with the button back flap. I figured this was safer. Knowing you, the flap would open, and you would bear your chocolate starfish to the entire ballroom. Trust me, this is the less-offensive option.”

“Fine. Thanks. I’ll be out in a few minutes.”

“I’m assuming you won’t be hanging around for the rest of the evening?”

“You think? And here I was thinking I’ll fit right in!”

“Don’t get grumpy. Should I call a cab to take us back to the lodge?”

“Yes, and tell Coop to make apologies to my mom, so we can avoid her abject horror.”

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