Page 1 of Mistletoe Kisses

Prologue

ARLO

Sitting upside down on the couch with my head hanging off sometimes cut through the worst of my anxiety in moments of high stress, like reliving an awkward moment at work in painstaking detail, an unexpected bill threatening to blow my careful budget to smithereens, or the wind blowing in the wrong direction. It turned out that getting laid off during the holidays triggered too much anxiety for my go-to remedy to handle. Instead of helping the chest flutters ease, they got worse on top of blood rushing into my skull.

I lifted my head to stare at Keaton—my roommate, best friend, andformercoworker—sitting next to me on our couch. I fixated on the patch of hair he’d missed shaving under his chin. It was easier to focus on that than how I would pay my half of the rent once my severance ran out.

I couldn’t believe Winchester Publishing was laying off a fifth of its staff. At least they’d given us a two-week notice on top of the severance to buy us some time to find new jobs.

“What are you staring at?” Keaton asked as he wiped at his mouth and then ran his fingers through the mop of loose dark curls on his head.

“You missed a spot.” I pointed to the location on my own chin.

Keaton shook his head and laughed. His brown eyes twinkled with affection. How was he not panicking? Right. Keaton would find something else. He always had. Heck, he’d only been at Winchester Publishing for six months compared to my five years.

“We just got laid off because of some bonehead publishing decisions that failed, and you’re worried about me missing a spot while shaving.” Keaton dropped back against the couch and let out a rough sigh. “So that really happened, right? It’s not a shared fever dream from us spending so much time together?”

I lowered my head again and frowned. “I guess we’re about to not spend as much time together.”

My body jostled from Keaton pushing my leg.

“Too soon!”

It might be, but naming it was the only way I could start to process it. Keaton was my safe space. Most people would surely hate spending so much time with the same person, but not me. Keaton was the one person I could fully relax around. He didn’t mind when I was being particular, he filled my introvert silences, and he never expected more from me than I could give.

“What are we gonna do?” I asked after a long silence.

We still had six months on our lease and needed new jobs to keep the place. What about health insurance? I had an appointment in January for my annual teeth cleaning. The thought of starting over with a new job and having to meet people, get to know them, andtalk to strangers? No thanks. And if my new job came with new health insurance, would I need to find new doctors? I groaned, and Keaton patted my leg.

It wasn’t like I’d loved my job. I’d expected to when I started working at Winchester Publishing over five years ago because I’d wanted to work with books since I was a kid. Getting my foot in the door at a publishing house was a dream come true. Even though my job was an administrative position and not directly involved with book development, I loved being around them. Though the job wasn’t what I’d hoped it would be, I appreciated the stability and routine.

I wasn’t worried about Keaton. He could convince a hermit to hire him as a live-in personal assistant. The man had more charisma in his pinky than I did in my entire body. Finding a job for me was another matter entirely. Job interviews required touting my strengths. Aloud.To people. Not to mention having to figure out what those strengths were. Shudder.

I’d have to start searching for a job, fix up my résumé, and ask Keaton to do practice interviews with me so I had half a chance to score a second-round interview.Oh no. I have to tell my mom.I squeezed my eyes closed as my stomach sank. I hated the idea of worrying her. She worked hard and shouldn’t have to add my livelihood to her worry list.

“I know what we’re going to do. We’re going to get drunk and not worry about it tonight. We’ll be all responsible and shit tomorrow,” Keaton suggested.

I latched onto his idea like Rose to that damned Titanic door. I wasn’t much of a drinker and couldn’t promise not to worry, but I could try to minimize it as best I could. At least until tomorrow.

“I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but drinking is a good plan.” I did a mental inventory of our pantry and fridge. “Those canned seltzer things in the back of the fridge aren’t going to do the job.”

He scrunched his face, which made his lavender eyeshadow sparkle in the overhead light of our living room. “Bundle up and go out in the snow again to get booze? Hell no. I hate Minneapolis in the winter so fucking much. Why can’t we live in a place where it’s sixty degrees at Christmas instead of cold enough to freeze my balls into ice cubes?”

Keaton despised the snow, but I didn’t mind it. Though the winter weather was a pain much of the time.

His face lit up. “Oh! I have a bottle of tequila in my closet that I smuggled out of my parents’ house.”

The blood rushing to my head was making me woozy, so I tipped away from Keaton to flip myself around and sit upright. “Is that what you were doing when you sent me to ask your mom for leftover stuffing at Thanksgiving? I saw you sneak off to the pantry.” His mom’s mission at the holidays was to send everyone home with enough food to feed them for days.

I’d been friends with Keaton for long enough that his enormous family treated me like one of their children. They were the opposite of my quiet micro family of only me and my mom since my grandparents had passed away over the last few years. Time with my mom was filled with quiet conversations while watching nature documentaries. Time with Keaton’s family meant multiple loud conversations happening at once.

He aimed his devilish grin at me. “Snatching it was merely payment for suffering, my friend. Having to sit through an extended meal with that many people should be a crime.”

If tequila was our only option, I needed to jazz it up. I didn’t hate tequila, but it neededsomething. I supposed we could make an Instacart order for limes or a margarita mix because I wasn’t too keen to throw on my cold-weather gear either.

Then, I remembered our most recent grocery shopping trip. “The pad Thai limes!”

Keaton sat straighter. “Do we still have some?”

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