Page 53 of My Favorite Holidate

Leo tips his forehead toward the living room. “Better join my sexyMean Girl,” he says and makes his way toward Charlotte. She’s wearing a short red dress and a Santa cap like, I brilliantly deduce, a character in that movie wore. Orcharacters, since Josie and Maeve are dressed the same, which would never happen by accident. Everly’s here too, but she’s in a red cape over a black-and-white dress. I don’t recognize her costume either.

Brady turns to me, slugging my biceps, and goes back to his normal accent. “So I hear you and I both have good taste.”

I stare at him blankly. “What do you mean?” To be clear, I know what he means. I just can’t believe he’s going there, and my feigned confusion keeps me from throttling him. But, oh, how I want to.

“Dude. I hear you picked up my former girlfriend.” He wiggles his brow as he elbows me. “Good on you.”

If he weren’t my best friend’s cousin, I’d go to jail tonight for pummeling the smirk from his face.

Or not. That’s only an impulse and not how I do business. I play chess all day. No one can devise a sharper strategy. This asshole does not know who he’s dealing with.

I open by moving a pawn, remembering his offer the last time I saw him. “So, back at Thanksgiving, you wanted to see if you could manage my funds.”

The look on his face is Christmas morning joy. “Yes.You gave me thatnoted,and I’ve been jonesing to talk to you more about it.”

While the other guests discuss dresses and bouquets, string quartets and deejays, Brady blathers on about how I should invest in tech.Really? Tell me more.I try to give him the same courtesy I’d give anyone who came to my office.

Focus.

Well, I don’t give audiences to men who cross the woman I’m a little obsessed with.

When he’s done, I nod, soberly absorbing all that keen insight while I move my final piece toward checkmate.

I didn’t invite his insight or actually say I wanted to hear more. I just needed to let him run on until I was ready to close the conversation, which I do now with finality.

“Thanks for all that insight. And I didn’t have a chance to tell you then because Leo had just proposed to Charlotte.” I pause, clap his shoulder like a good old sport, and relish this moment. “But I’m all set on the portfolio front. Such a shame we can’t work together.”

Then I leave him, and I head to join my fake girlfriend in the living room.

A small victory is still a victory.

“Nois just the first stop on the road to yes!” Brady calls after me with agood one, palchuckle. “I’ll convince you over Christmas, Wilder. Mark my words.”

This guy is relentless. For now, though, I ignore him.

When I reach Fable, I don’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her waist, to lean closer, to sweep her hair away from her neck.

I don’t check to see if the jackass is looking or worry that he’ll see through the ruse. Because nothing’s fake when she leans into me, her scent tickling my nose, hernearness frying my brain. Turning closer, she whispers, “You’re good at that, sugar plum. No one can tell.”

Yes, I am good at this, and I don’t want to stop. Reluctantly, I break away from the private moment and focus on the party, on being a good host. All my attention goes to the guests.

Right until Fable heads to the kitchen and Brady follows her.

17

SO VERY FUCKABLE

Fable

Brady is Alan Rickman fromLove Actuallybecause only a person with zero self awareness would pick that character. The cheater. The Alan Rickman who broke all our hearts in his square glasses, a thin black scarf, and a black jacket. The Alan Rickman who got Emma Thompson a Joni Mitchell CD instead of the necklace she deserved. The most hated character in Christmas cinema.

I want to kick him in the knees and watch him fall to the floor. That guilt I felt when I first fibbed to Charlotte about being with Wilder? I don’t feel an ounce of it now. Because of Brady.

Nope. I don’t want him to feel sorry for me. Ever.

I’m in the kitchen, freshening up a charcuterie board like a good hostess, when he strides over, leaning an elbow on the counter. “Wow, Fabes,” he says. “I didn’t realize you’d moved on so quickly.”

He’s one to talk. “Quickly?” I whisper-seethe under mybreath. “Not any quicker than moving on to someone while still being with someone else.”

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