Page 16 of Holiday Hoax

“Sure.” Her eyes light up. “When are you thinking?”

“When is your next day off?”

“I’m off on Mondays when the gallery is closed.”

“Monday, then?”

“This coming Monday?” She seems surprised.

“If you already have plans, I understand. It can be next week or whenever you’re free.”

“No plans, I’m just surprised at how quickly you want to get started.”

“Once I set my mind to something, I don’t waste time.”

“Focused. I like that.”

The driver stops at the door to her building. I open the door and stand so she can get out onto the sidewalk. She lets me help her out but stops me when I lean into the car to tell the driver I’ll be right back.

“You don’t have to walk me up.”

“It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“If it were a real date, yes.” She smiles teasingly. “It’s not like you’re going to give me a goodnight kiss.”

But looking at her berry-colored lips, it’s all I can think about again. “True,” I concede with a nod as I walk her up to the door. “But at least let me open this for you.”

“I can do that.” She wraps her arm around my waist in a brief hug. “Good night, Ian.”

“Good night, Mia. I had more fun with you than I can remember having with anyone else in a long time.” I return her hug and then pull the door open.

I watch her walk past the security desk and to the bank of elevators. It’s not until the doors slide closed in front of her that I walk away. The drive back to my apartment is spent reminding myself over and over of all the reasons I shouldn’t pursue something real with her. Maybe the repetition will help erase the delusion.

CHAPTER 6

MIA

“I havesomeone I want to set you up with,” Mom says as she stirs a pot of sauce on the stove. “And taste this, it needs something.” She shoves a steaming wooden spoonful of marinara sauce at my lips.

I take a taste because there’s no telling her to back off. “Needs more salt.”

“Can’t use more salt. Dr. Carver put your father on a low sodium diet.” She turns back to the stove. “I’ll just add more garlic.”

“How did his appointment go this week?” I lean a hip against the counter while she stirs.

“Still thinking they might have to put another stint in, but that wouldn’t be until after the holidays. If I can keep him out of the sweets. I had to hide the Halloween candy in the cabinet above the washer.” She points at me with the wooden spoon. “Don’t you dare tell him that.”

I raise my hands, knowing full well I don’t want to be on the bad side of Theresa Mattia. She’s five-foot-nothing of absolute ferocity. I could sweet talk my dad out of anything growing up, but one disproving glance from Mom, and I’d fold like tissue paper. We all would.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

She hums, unconvinced. “Do you remember Barb and Jerry from church? They have a son who went through confirmation with Nico. Name is Bradley.”

“I think so.” I remember a guy with red hair and freckles, but that’s about it.

“He just moved back to Chicago. Lives in River North and works at a market.”

“He works in marketing,” Dad yells from the living room. “Not at a market.”

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