Page 68 of A Very Bossy Christmas
God, I love it when he talks dirty to me.
“May no one walk in on you when you’re dancing around naked to ‘Come and Get Your Love’—unless you want them to.” I raise my glass and then take a big gulp.
“May you only walk in on naked dancers as hot as I am.” We clink glasses again and take another sip.
I hold the mug up again and say, “May your nonna’s heart always be as soft and warm as her meatballs.”
“May your aunt’s accent always be as thick as her mashedpotatuhs, arright?”
“May the only teeth in your ass belong to the woman you’re banging.”
He almost does a spit take at that one. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Well, I never.”
We stare at each other, smiling like goofballs again. I bring the mug to my lips and take a big gulp of ale to prevent myself from saying anything that might actually articulate these feelings I’m having. I might have to instill another “no talking rule” for the rest of the day. And I definitely think we should sleep at separate apartments tonight.
But I don’t get the chance to bring any of this up because The Pogues’ song “Fairytale of New York” comes on, and a reverent hush comes over all of the twenty or so customers in the pub, followed by everyone raising their glasses and singing along.
“I fecking love this song,” Declan muses just before the music picks up and Kirsty MacColl joins in.
We sing this beautiful, messy underdog Christmas anthem duet to each other like a couple of drunk college kids. If I did a graph of how happy I’ve ever allowed myself to be with Declan, this would be the pinnacle. He’s singing with his entire body and being, and I wish I could have been the one who met him in college instead of Hannah. When he was still made of youthful energy and optimism.
Or maybe I don’t.
Maybe I prefer him this way—moody survivor of a broken heart and full of surprises.
“Ahhh, it’s a grand old song,” he says, shaking his head as the song ends. “You ever been to Ireland?”
“No. Have you?”
“Oh sure.” He gets a faraway look in his eyes and places his hand over his heart. It looks like he’s about to recite a William Butler Yeats poem or something, but instead he says something even more romantic: “I’d love to take you there someday. Italy too.”
The tip of my nose is tingling, and the rims of my eyes are stinging, and I take a deep breath because I’m finally going to say something real.
“Maddie! Ithoughtyou lived around here!” I look up and see Cindy, the receptionist from Sentinel, walking out from the restrooms, only it takes me a few seconds to recognize her, all bundled up in her winter coat and accessories.
“Cindy! Hi.” I stand up to hug her. “What are you doing in these parts?”
“Oh, I was just on my way to my friend’s place on the Lower East Side, and I had to pee, so I stopped in for a quick glass of ale.” She finally sees Declan sitting in the chair next to mine. “Oh! Hi, Mr. Cannavale! I’m so sorry—I didn’t see you there. Happy holidays!”
He stands up to hug her just as she holds her hand out to shake his. “Happy holidays,” he says.
“Oh!” She gasps and wraps her arms around him. “Thank you.”
“Can I get you another beer?” he asks casually. “Would you like to join us?”
“Thank you, no, I’m already late for my friend.”
Both Declan and Cindy are watching me. It feels like my right eye is twitching. “Declan just dropped off my belated Christmas gift, so I invited him for a quick drink,” I explain. “I live right by here.”
“Right,” she says. “That’s great.”
“Right.” Declan looks down at the table. “Welp. Since I’m up, I’ll hit the jacks real quick. Excuse me.” He pats Cindy on the shoulder and heads to the doors that lead to the restrooms.
Cindy and I watch him go. He’s wearing dark jeans, and his butt looks magnificent in them.
“You don’t have to worry about me saying anything to anyone at work, Maddie.” Cindy touches my arm, reassuring me. “My friends and I go out a lot during the day on weekends, all over town, and you wouldn’t believe how many people I’ve seen together from the office. All hungover and post-coital. But don’t ask who, because I won’t tell.” She mimes locking her lips and throwing away the key.
“Really? Wow. That’s an effective policy, huh? But really, this isn’t anything.”
