Page 33 of 12 Days of Mistletoe

Holy smokes.Mom. This may have been my worst idea yet. One I started and one Gran is determined to see through.

Me: I don’t know her schedule.

This time I am smart enough to delete those words because shouldn’t a boyfriend know his girlfriend’s schedule? So, I make something up on the spot, and when I reread it, I decide it’s good enough to hit send.

Me: I’ll see if she can change her work schedule.

That way, if she’s working, I’ll say she couldn’t switch her schedule around. If she’s not, I’ll say she made it work and she’ll be even more of an angel in my mother’s eyes. Is that going to make me the devil when we break up?

Mom: Good! Make it work, Elliot!

One little messy breakup with a girl my mother didn’t approve of and now Bonnie is at the top of her favorite people list. I’m not sure Bonnie wants to be at the top. In fact, I’m pretty sure she thinks Marlene Eaton is loco.

Mom isn’t crazy, but overzealous. She really likes playing an active role in her children’s lives, and sometimes that active role involves a sleigh and live reindeer. She’s intense. But sweet. Should I tell Bonnie that?

I pick up my cup and lift it to my lips, cautious, knowing how hot that liquid inside my cup is. Another text lights up my phone—I am extra popular this morning—and I casually peer down to see what else Mom is insisting on. But this time, it’s from Bonnie—which has me sloshing more hot liquid over the edge of the cup.

I set the dangerous mug to the counter and decide I will not be caffeinated for the day.

With my right hand under the sink once more, I pick up my phone and read:

Bonnie: Bill will be at the center today. You should bring your gran by. We’re playing pirate bingo. It’s a fan favorite.

Me: The seniors like that? They don’t find it too juvenile?

Bonnie: It is juvenile. That’s why it’s fun.

SEVENTEEN

bonnie

I did not addpink lip gloss to my lips today because Elliot Eaton and his gran are coming by the center. No, I did not. I often wear lip gloss. All the time, in fact.

And yet?—

“What’s on your face?” Bill says the minute I’ve reached his table. Right after my not-so-true pep talk to myself.

“I don’t know what you mean.” I know exactly what he means. I never wear lip gloss. Who am I trying to kid? What possessed me?

Bill says nothing. He knows I know.

“Fine,” I growl, but it’s a fake growl. I’m not mad at Bill. I’m more annoyed with myself and the need for pink bubble gum lip gloss. “So what? I’m not allowed to wear lip gloss?”

“Maybe.” Bill shrugs. “I don’t know. You trying to get your lips noticed, Bon Bon?”

I tug on Noel’s leash. It’s completely unneeded; she is a well-behaved girl. Still, I tug her closer, and because she’s also the most patient pup, she comes without complaint, lifting her head into my left palm.

“Well, that’s—Pfft. No,” I moan. “I felt like a little gloss today, okay? That’s it.”

Bill harrumphs, telling me it is not okay and he doesn’t believe me for one second. I don’t really believe me either. The thing is, I haven’t had a boyfriend in a long time—real or fake. It’s making me question things, like when to wear lip gloss and when not to. Also things like—is it normal to feel flutterings when you kiss someone? It is, right? Real or not. That’s just normal. And it all goes away—in eleven days.

Another glance from Bill answers all lip gloss questions. Is a fake boyfriend time for lip gloss? No, he is not.

Each table in the hall is blessedly set with napkins in the center. The people who come for meals eat here as well as play games, make crafts, and listen to live music. I snatch up one of those white paper linens that never leave the table—no matter the event—and wipe at my mouth as if I’ve been eating BBQ ribs.

So long bubble gum lip gloss.

“You think that’s gonna fool anyone?” Bill says without even looking at me. “So, I assume yourboyfriendis coming by, then?”

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