Page 78 of The Love Losers

“The mistletoe in this place doesn’t like to stick around either,” I mutter.

I explain Anthony’s concerns about our safety as she finishes preparing the pot of tea, adding none of her “fun touches,” thank God. My mind is screwed up enough without the help.

“Only a man who loves you would care that much,” she insists in a self-satisfied tone.

A knock lands on the door as she’s pouring tea into our cups, and we exchange wide-eyed looks before she picks up her cast iron pan and heads toward the door.

Realizing I’m letting my seventy- or eighty-plus roommate lead the way, I push my way in front of her and look through the peephole.

It’s Damien, dressed in a dark overcoat and jeans.

“No friendly fire,” I tell Joy over my shoulder before opening the door.

He steps inside, and Joy sets the cast iron aside on an end table and says, “Let the mistletoe do its work.”

“I’m starting to think you only put that there so you can kiss every attractive man who comes into this apartment.”

She smiles at me as Damien gamely stoops to kiss her cheek. “Let me have my fun.”

“Joy, you dog, did you just kiss my husband?” a disembodied voice shouts from Damien’s coat.

Smirking, Damien shuts the door and pulls his phone out of his coat pocket. On his screen, Nicole points at Joy before shifting her attention to me. “I’m here in PA. I may never leave. I spent half the day at Hershey Park, terrorizing your ex-boyfriend. It’s been one of the highlights of my life. I never realized there were so many ways you could make a man’s life miserable at a theme park. I paid this clown to pull him out of the audience and use him in his show, and he got, like, fifteen cream pies—”

“I don’t care about him,” I snap, surprised by how much I mean it. But Nicole drove all the way to Pennsylvania to try to unfuck my life, so I owe her more courtesy. “I mean, thank you, obviously. I appreciate that you’re over there fighting the good fight, but what about my fingerprints?”

Damien nods toward the couch, indicating this will be a longer conversation, which is not a great sign. He, Joy, and I all pile onto the couch. Damien’s in the middle, holding the phone facing toward us so Nicole can see everyone.

“So, the good news is that I managed to get the file, no problem. It’s gone. Poof. But there’s the slight problem of all this shit being archived.”

My hands start shaking, so I wrap them together, one finger finding my bare ring finger. “So you can’t do it.”

Nicole’s already shaking her head. “Oh, ye of little faith. Of course we can do it. We have a hacker friend of a friend who wasbornto do it. But it’s also Christmas, and he has a family, and all of that shit. So I’m guessing it’ll be a few days. No problem, though, this will all be sorted out soon.”

Fresh worry coils inside of me. I need to tell Anthony about this, because it has graduated from a former problem to an ongoing problem.

“Youaremarrying the hot rich guy, right? My pep talk wasn’t for naught?”

My face feels hot. I haven’t talked to anyone else about this. My brothers don’t know. Claire doesn’t know. Lainey doesn’t know. Jake doesn’t know either, unless Anthony told him. But I nod slowly. “I told him I’d marry him.”

“Hell, yes, you did!” Nicole hoots from the phone while her husband smiles at her like she’s the alpha and omega.

“I knew we had reason to celebrate,” Joy puts in. “Mortimer told me.”

If Damien, who presumably doesn't know who Mortimer is, is fazed by this, he doesn’t let it show.

“Anthony doesn’t know about any of this though,” I add, my gaze on Nicole. My heart is thumping almost painfully. Because this really could put an end to us. “I need to tell him. He has to be the one to decide if he feels comfortable with moving forward.”

“It’s almost twelve million dollars,” Nicole tells me, not unkindly. “He’d probably marry an inanimate object if they’d let him. Much better to marry a hot blond with a few legal problems.”

“It needs to be his choice,” I repeat, maybe because I feel like I already took it from him. If he chooses to bring someone else to that altar, there’ll be problems for him, and that’ll be my fault.

“Sure, sure. Are you going to tell the rest of the crew, or is this, like, a New Year’s surprise? Maybe it should be. We can see how many people will object at the altar. It’s too bad your brothers are going to be in New York City.”

She seems excited by the prospect.

“Honestly, I’d prefer for no one to object.”

“Ah,” Damien says, “but at least one person is likely to object. That website’s still up and running.”

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