Page 21 of Inherited Holiday

“No.” I chuckled. “It was an accident.”

He wiggled his eyebrows. “So she says…”

“Let’s just say it didn’t go according to plan or how I imagined it would.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Here I thought you’d be the one who would understand.”

“Me? Why me?”

“I don’t know. You’re married and have a kid.”

“And that makes me mature enough to understand women? Especially your relationship with your ex-best friend who you’re still obviously madly in love with?”

I didn’t just jerk back, I stumbled. “I’m not in love with her. I mean, I do love her, like her, I’m just…”

He beamed. “In love with her.”

“Fuck you, man. I like her.”

“You like a lot of things.”

“No, I mean—I really like her.I like her so much that I can’t imagine my life without her again.”

“Hell has officially frozen over!” He put his hand up to his ear. “Excuse me? I’m sorry. What was that? Can you say that one more time? I don’t think I heard you the first time.”

“You heard me, dickwad.”

“Oh, come on, this is a monumental moment. A universal standstill. The Grinch is flying all around us. Now admit that you’re in love with her and secretly love Santa, and we’ll call it a day.”

“I came here for advice, and this is what I get from you?”

“You’re right. We should take you to the ER instead. You need a radiologist to x-ray your head on the fact that you’re pussy-whipped, and you haven’t even seen hers yet.”

“Fuck you again.”

“You like her? Like, you want to date her and see where it goes, or you like her and want to be besties again?”

“Besties?”

“That’s what all the cool kids are saying these days.”

“Because it’s important to sound like them?”

“Bet.”

My eyebrows pinched together. “Bet what?”

“Your balls because Noelle already has them.”

I laughed. “You’re an asshole.”

“Bet.”

“Bet what?”

“It means yes, Mr. Saint Clair, master of Mistletoe Town.”

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