Page 51 of The Love Losers

ROSIE

The night before my bucket list date with Anthony, Nicole swings by my apartment unannounced while Joy is making brownies.

“This may be the best day of my life,” Nicole says as she stops in the doorway and sucks in a deep inhale of the chocolatey air. Under her fuzzy coat, she’s wearing another sister-in-law shirt:My Sister-in-Law’s Cold,with a drawing of a popsicle underneath it.

Does she get them custom-made?

“If you eat more than one of those, you’re going to trip balls,” I warn her, stepping back so she can come inside. “Trust me, I’ve learned the hard way.”

“I can make a special batch if we have company,” Joy says with a sweet smile from the kitchen part of the open floor plan. She’s wearing an apron and appears so wholesome she should be on a misleading cookie label.

The whole apartment looks like it was attacked by elves in the night, with a golden plastic Christmas tree decorated with real pine cones and popcorn strands, a multitude of pine garlands, and mistletoe. We’re the only two people who are usually here, so we’ve kissed each other’s cheeks about a dozen times.

I’ve always loved Christmas—it’s bright and fun, and there arepresents—but part of me hates it now. It’ll always remind me of my mother, and my mother is gone forever. So the joy I get from walking into a winter wonderland is usually edged with sadness. For some reason it’s different here, though, maybe because Joy has made such a big deal about the two of us starting new traditions, like moving the mistletoe and making each other mystery hot chocolate.

Joy came into my life randomly. I needed a place to live that wasn’t my brother’s cabin, and she’d just started looking for a roommate. But the way we found each other has convinced me that some things in life really are meant to be, because we were definitely meant to be best friends. Fifty-year age gap not-withstanding.

I grin at Joy. “And by special, she means this batch will bewithoutdrugs.”

“When you put it that way, it soundsunseemly,” she says with a smile as she waves Nicole inside. “I make the other kind for my arthritis, although I always share, of course. You should have come by yesterday. Rosie’s suitor sent enough ice cream to feed the whole building.”

Because I’d told him I was the cherry and not the sundae.

Because he’dlistened.

I couldn’t believe it when a deliveryman showed up with ice cream from one of the local shops.Goodice cream. Fancy-pantsy ice cream. Five gallons of it. The dried ice had wafted enough white mist to make it look like a magic show, and there were cherries and rainbow sprinkles and tons of whipped cream.

The only thing missing was Anthony himself.

I’d hoped he’d step out of the box, shivering and in need of a warm-blooded woman to heat him up. I’d told him I needed space, though, and he’d respected that need. That, and he probably had to go to work for his real job.

Of course, half of the ice cream melted and most of the rest was eaten by grubby children up and down the hallway, but his gesture had made me feel the same way I did as he waltzed me through that dirty, smelly warehouse. Like I was special to someone. Like both of us could see behind the haze of what was there to what could be, because we were looking together.

My hand lifts to my chest and I press it down, as if the pressure will help me control what’s going on inside.

I feel a phantom tug in my chest, just like I did when I got Dom’s message a few minutes ago:

I’m about to blow your mind, Rosie. Anthony’s the OWNER of this building. I’m sorry, but I think he might be with the Illuminati.

Will try to interrogate him for information.

If you don’t hear from me within the next 24 hours, tell my story.

That means Anthony must be at The Peanut Bar right now.

Which means I could go to him…

We could hang out with Dom, convince him that Anthony’s not in the Illumanti—or maybe that he is, just for fun—and drink flat beer and talk about our bucket lists, and—

“Can I speak frankly in front of Joy?” Nicole asks, lifting her eyebrows as she runs a hand through her bright pink hair, somehow making it messier. She follows up by tugging off her coat and slinging it on the coatrack. “Because I have no intention of leaving this room until both the special and non-special brownies come out of the oven.”

“Yes,” I say, glancing at Joy, who’s already started another batch of brownies.

I’ve told Joy everything. I can’t tell my brother, or Claire, or Lainey, and the information needed to burst free for someone. Itdoesn’t hurt that Joy is the most accepting and least judgmental person I know.

“I’m going to Pennsylvania this weekend to handle the fingerprints situation for you,” Nicole says, which is an answer so vague she didn’t actually need to ask whether it could be delivered in front of Joy. “I plan on paying a little visit to your ex too, just for funzies. I think I should deliver him some Christmas joy, don’t you? It would be the neighborly thing to do.”

“I should be the one who does that,” I say, even though I wouldn’t have the first idea how to go about erasing my fingerprints from the national database. “It doesn’t feel right to sit back and let you clean up after me.” I won’t tell her she shouldn’t bother with Jay. It’s touching that she wants to avenge me, and he deserves the hassle.

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