Page 47 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

But eleven kisses. I’m not sure how I feel about kissing Bonnie. Not sure, as in I possibly enjoyed that first kiss way too much. It feels wrong kissing someone without better intentions—and yet, it’s getting her what she needs and what I’ve always wanted. Right? Can those be my good intentions?

“You up for this?” I ask her—because her closeness and my feelings are confusing me. So, let’s focus on her feelings.

“Of course. Let’s go,boyfriend.” I don’t miss the pitch in her voice and the silliness in her tone—the same I heard when she lied to Brooke Jones and couldn’t remember my last name.

TWENTY-THREE

bonnie

“Now Elliot,”May says, “put your arms around her back. No one stands there like a dead fish to kiss the girl they’re crazy about. Come on, now. Look alive, boy.”

Elliot’s jaw is slack and open. He snaps it shut and blinks from me to his gran. “Does Bill have to be here for this?”

I’m with Elliot. Do we really need an audience for “practice”?

“Yes. I needed another opinion and yours cannot be trusted. What do you think, Bill?” May raises her voice, peering at my friend through her phone.

“When did you learn to make a FaceTime call?” Elliot asks her.

“Just because I’ve never FaceTimed you doesn’t mean I haven’t known for ages.” May sets a hand on her hip. Her eyes skirt back to the phone. “Bill taught me at the center today.”

I smother a laugh because if I don’t laugh, I’ll start sweating and shaking and possibly even crying. Nope, laughing is much better.

“What do you think, Billy?”

“Billy?” Elliot says. He pushes the phone in her hands down so that Bill is now looking at our shoes. “Gran, what’s going on here?”

“I’ve made a new friend?—”

“One you’re suddenly calling ‘Billy’?” Elliot says, real concern in his voice.

“Bill is a good guy. A goodfriend,” I tell him. “He’s quite devoted to the memory of his late wife.” I tilt my head, giving him a knowing look.

Elliot’s creased brow and narrowed eyes study mine. “Fine.” He sighs. “What do you want here, Gran?”

May holds up the phone again. “All right, Bill, any suggestions on his hands? They’re just flopping around down there.”

“Well certainly not at his sides. Come on, One-thirty, is this the first time you’ve touched a girl?”

May giggles. “Oh, Bill. You are a funny one.”

Elliot looks at me again—after all, I’m the one who called him harmless and dedicated to his dead wife. “Ha. Ha,” he says, no emotion in his voice. “Hilarious.”

“Come on, Elliot.” I clap. We can do this now or we can draw it out all night. “Hands,” I say, picking up Elliot’s palms and placing one on each of my hips. A tickle makes its way from my fingertips, his skin on mine, up into my chest.

“That’s progress,” Bill says, his bushy brows furrowing as he tries to study Elliot and me through the small phone screen. “Come on, son, you can do better.”

“Yes,” May says, agreeing with Bill. “Come on, Elliot.”

They’re so hard on him. May is much more critical than she was last night. So, I help the man out.

I lift my hands, latching them around Elliot’s neck. Ialmost feel like Noel as I quietly stroke the nape of his neck with my fingers. May doesn’t see it, and Bill certainly can’t. It’s just something to calm his nerves. Noel sits with her butt on Elliot’s foot and her chin on mine, apparently sensing that we’re both a little uncomfortable.

And holy—we are. This feels as insane as it did the day before. May said it would get easier with time. She was wrong. Somehow I’m more anxious today than I was yesterday.

Elliot peers down at me and we wait for our senior citizen-kissing instructors to spout more directions.

“Arms around her back,” Bill says.

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