Page 62 of A Very Bossy Christmas
“You’re only pretending for the holidays?” my mom asks. “What then?”
“Good question, Mom,” my sister says. “What then, Maddie?”
I wave them both off. “It’s just for the holidays. Everybody behave!”
“What is happening? Maddie, do you have a boyfriend? Is your boyfriend comin’ inside?” My aunt fusses with her hair and apron and starts skittering about. “Aw shit! I wasn’t expectin’ company.”
“What are you talking about?We’recompany,” my dad says.
“I meanmalecompany.”
“What are we, chopped liver?” Bex’s husband asks.
“Basically.” Bex plops down on his lap, kisses his cheek, and then steals a bite of his Rice Krispy treat, and they are so cute together it hurts. What they have, it’s secretly all I’ve ever really wanted. Even before I knew about the ferry sex.
“Oh calm down, Mel!” my mom yells as she frantically straightens up the pillows on all of the sofas and armchairs in my aunt’s living room. “The place looks terrific. What man doesn’t love being surrounded by bargain-priced glittery Christmas ornaments and starfish with Santa hats? Especially lawyers?”
“Yeah,” Piper says without any irony whatsoever. “You’ve got a cute stuffed raccoon in a wool cap and scarf on the mantle. He’ll love it! But Declan will only have eyes for Maddie anyway.”
I grab that kid’s sweet face and kiss her on the top of her head before going to the door to pull my boots on.
“Don’t let him in yet!” my aunt shrieks. “It smells like roast chicken farts in here! Open a window! Open all of the windows!”
My dad and brother-in-law point at each other, and I crack open a window because she’s not wrong. But all houses smell like that at holiday dinners, right? If Declan can’t deal with my family’s chicken farts, then he can just go straight back to the office.
I open the front door and step out onto the porch, hugging myself tight and jogging in place. Not because it’s cold as fuck but because my heart is racing, and I have so much nervous energy I feel like I could outrun the Polar Express right now. This is so unlike me, but these past few days have been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced or imagined myself. There isn’t even anything fairy tale romantic or extraordinary about it, and that’s what makes it even more surreal.
Declan Cannavale is walking up the driveway to my aunt’s house. Where my family is gathered. In Staten Island. And I didn’t have to get him to sign a contract or offer a few days off in return, either. Talk about a Christmas miracle.
I wait for him to walk up the steps, and then I do the dumbest thing yet—I hold my hand out to shake his.
He stares at my outstretched hand for a second and then says, “Oh. Okay.”
I had my mouth on his penis this morning, and now it feels awkward to hug him, so this is what’s happening.
Declan Cannavale has broken my brain.
“Nice to see you. Happy Christmas,” he says like an uptight British guy.
I swat at his hand. “Oh shut up. I’m nervous.”
“That’s adorable. I’m not. At all.” I can tell he is, though. He totally is, and we’re so fucking cute I want to hug both of us.
But I don’t.
“Whatcha got there?” I nod at the bag in his hand.
“I had the driver drop me off at a gift shop,” he says, shrugging and grinning. He holds up a plastic bag from a souvenir and gift shop on Fifth Avenue, and I want to French kiss that dimple on his stubbly cheek. But not in front of my dad.
“You got my family New York souvenirs. That’s funny.” I hold my hand up for a high-five. “That is really cute.”
“Well, I’m fucking adorable, so what’d you expect?”
We just stand here, staring at each other and grinning like goofballs for a minute.
“Hi,” he says, pushing a strand of hair out of my face.
“Hi.” I rub the scruff on the sides of his face. I think this is how happy I would have felt if I’d actually gotten the puppy I wanted for Christmas when I was eight, except this puppy has a law degree and looks like an underwear model. Goddammit. My heart feels so full right now. And the rest of me is horny. Really, really horny. “So you have a car?”
