Page 17 of Storybook Christmas

But after he speaks, something shuts down in his eyes, and he looks away.

By the pained expression he’s desperately trying to hide, it seems there’s more to his answer than his words.

“So,” he says, after a beat of silence, “Why do you want Joshua back? He’s a schmuck.”

I sit frozen, shocked at Finn’s brazen words about his boss—and my ex, for that matter. When that wears off, I fight to put my thoughts into a simple answer. “I don’t know anyone else but Joshua—he’s all I’ve ever had. For six years, he’s been by my side, supporting me. We graduated from college together. We got this job together. He’d rub my feet as we’d sit in bed and watch movies most weekends. We’d go grocery shopping together, and he’d take one side of the store, and I’d the other. He knew exactly what I wanted in the cart.” Sadness ripples through me when I say, “He was my best friend, you know?”

“That makes sense.” Finn looks down. “I’ve never had that, so I guess it’s hard for me to understand.”

“No serious relationships?”

“I mean, I’ve had girlfriends.” He purses his lips. “But nothing like that.”

I find myself oddly jealous of these old girlfriends. Brushing away that feeling, I say, “Ever since Joshua got promoted, he’s different.” I blow out a jagged breath, relieved to be finally saying the words out loud. “I guess I’m waiting for him to have this light-bulb moment where he realizes what he’s become and turns back into the old Joshua. The one who wanted to marry me. The one who’s not a schmuck.”

Finn meets my gaze. “Well, I don’t know about any of that. But I do know you deserve to be happy. So, I hope you get what your heart wants.”

“Thank you. And you deserve that, too.”

“I better have a long chat with my heart, then. Figure it out.” A lopsided smile spreads across his face, the usual sparkle returning in his eyes. “So. Your parent’s firm’s holiday party is tomorrow, right?”

“Ugh. Don’t remind me.” At the thought, I’m done eating. I swallow my last bite of sandwich, a thought flashing through my mind. But then I push it away—I can’t ask Finn to go with me to the party. That’s absurd.

He raises a brow, that sexy twitch in his jaw flashing when he says, “I could be convinced to become your plus one.”

His words, the twitch, send a tingle through me. My eyes go wide when I say, “Like, as a date?”

“Well, yes, but a fake date. To help you get through the night without your parents playing matchmaker.”

“It’s just my mother.” I release the tension in my shoulders that shows up whenever I think about my mom’s dire need for me to be married so I can give her grandchildren. “That’s not a bad idea. I have someone to share in my misery. It used to be my sister, but lately, she’s become one of them.”

“Moved to the dark side, eh?”

“Yes, apparently.” I smile, but it fades when I say, “She’s become so short with me the past few months.” We were so close, and stayed that way, even after she married her now-husband, Harrison. But something changed, and I don’t know why. “Eleanorisputting in seventy-hour weeks, so I’ve chalked it up to her being overworked.” Not wanting to discuss that further, I say, “Anyway, if you come as my fake date, you’ll get to dine on a five-star meal.”

“Can you be more specific, please?” He puts on his negotiation face.

“Lobster tail. Filet. Fresh oysters. The whole deal.”

Finn exhales out a long breath. “Okay, I want to play hard-ball with you, but I don’t have it in me.” He stares into space, dreamily. “Fresh oyster? You’re not lying?”

“Nope.” I extend my hand, then yank it away. “Oh, and you have to tell Joshua you need the evening off for the Callahan & Callahan holiday party.”

Finn taps his fingers together. “Ah. He’ll know I’m your plus one—and get jealous. A proven technique for getting exes back.”

“Right.”

Finn groans. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

“It was your idea.”

He extends his hand. “Pearl, my oldie-but-goodie white Honda, and I will pick you up at six-thirty.”

When I say, “You can’t wear jeans, Finn. Or Vans,” he yanks his hand away.

Finn groans again, more dramatically this time. “Fine, but the dessert better be off the hook.”

We shake on it.

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