Page 24 of My Favorite Holidate

When we’re done I say goodbye, then head home, nearing a bell-ringing Santa on the next corner. I reach into my purse for some bills, then drop them into his shiny red bucket.

“Ho, ho, ho, and Merry Christmas. May all your Christmas wishes come true,” the jolly man says.

“And yours as well,” I say to the guy in the red suit and long white beard. Once I pass him, I wonder though—what are my holiday wishes? Simply to survive the wedding without feeling like a doormat? Sure, that’s definitely one. To make a point that I won’t let people think they can walk all over me? Yes, definitely. But Wilder also said the otherday in his office that he’d like to show my ex how a man should treat a woman. And I’d like him to show me as well. I suppose maybe that’s a secret wish of mine now too.

To know what that’s like.

No.

It’s my wish to know how Wilder Blaine treats a woman.

Even if we have to keep it a secret from my sister, I want this wish to come true. I need to tell someone. This secret is clawing at my heart, nagging at my brain. Then, like a cartoon anvil landing on my head, I know who to tell. My friends Josie and Maeve, and of course Everly too. Josie’s a librarian, Maeve’s a painter, and Everly is the publicist for the Sea Dogs, one of the city’s hockey teams. They aren’t connected to Wilder’s world, and we’ve spent a lot of time together since Josie moved to San Francisco last fall. Plus, Maeve has been insisting she had a feeling about him ever since we ran into him in the lobby of his hotel one time and he offered to comp us a room. We didn’t need one, but when he left, Maeve promptly declared,Someone has a crush on you.

That’s Maeve for you. A little wild. But also wrong. I denied it then, I’ve denied it every time she’s brought it up since, and I’m denying it now. Still, I know they’ll be the perfect audience. I text them and since they’re all around, we hop on a video call the second I walk into my apartment.

And tell them I do—every single detail of my holiday romance, true and fake.

Maeve chuckles. “I told you so, I told you so, I told you so.”

“He does not have a crush on me,” I say.

“Mark my words, friend,” Maeve says, emphatic. “I saw it in his eyes.”

“Maeve, you think everyone has a crush on everyone,” I say.

Josie laughs, her head tipping back. “Can confirm. She does.”

“I can’t help it if my crush radar is finely calibrated and picks up the tiniest details.”

“Or maybe you want everything to be a crush,” Everly suggests to Maeve. “You are a bit of a hopeless romantic.”

Maeve’s aghast, her jaw down near her black shirt. “A bit? Only a bit?”

“Fine. You’rea lot.”

Josie laughs. “We’re alla lot.” But then she adds in a stage whisper, “But I hope Maeve’s right.”

“Shut up. She’s not.” She has to be because I can’t go there.

I stuff the idea of his crush in a far corner of the closet. I won’t entertain the notion at all.

When I end the call, I find there’s been a delivery to my building, and it’s so thoughtful, it makes my chest flip.

See? That’s real. I don’t feel like such a liar as I dig into the ice cream Wilder sent. The very real ice cream.

On Saturday evening, the banging on my door is so loud it’s like her calling card.

“Coming, Josie,” I call, hurrying over to look through the peephole. Waves of chestnut hair are piled on top of her head in an effortless bun I know isn’t effortless at all. Black-and-white cat-eye glasses frame her heart-shapedface, and her fair skin is flawless—well, my girl rocks the skin-care routine.

I swing open the door. “You have the most recognizable knock in the universe. It sounds like an elephant stampede.”

“Nice to see you too,” she says, then steps inside, lugging a couple of red-and-white-striped canvas shopping bags stuffed with gifts—books from An Open Book, toys for her little nephews, and records, it looks like.

“Hello, Mrs. Shopping Claus. Let me guess. The albums are for Wesley.”

She smiles, her eyes twinkling. “Yes. Wesley’s on his way home from a road trip, so I’d better wrap them tonight. I have a feeling he’s the type to look for his presents in advance.”

That’s her hockey-playing boyfriend, who she’s been with for almost a year—but only after a twisty, turny romance. They were roomies first, and Josie’s brother is the captain of Wesley’s hockey team. Talk aboutforbidden.

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