Page 73 of Booked for the Holidays
She laughs. It’s a warm hug on a cool, December night. One that keeps you free from harm and whatever nightmares might plague you. It’s comforting. Encouraging. The best sound I’ve ever heard.
Bridget climbs to her feet and pulls me up with her. I reach out and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. The tips of my fingers ghost over her cheek.
“The pie might be shit,” she says.
“Doubtful. If it is, we can just have a food fight or something. I know there’s a bottle of chocolate syrup in the fridge.”
“Don’t tempt me with a good time. Between Mac and me, we could kick your ass.”
“In your dreams. You’re taking the first bite, by the way. If you die, I’ll know it was poisoned.”
“Maybe I’ve brought up my tolerance, becoming immune to the toxins. Maybe this has been my plan all along, just so I can watch you suffer at the kitchen table and get you to admit your deep, dark secrets. The ones more scandalous than a Blockbuster rendezvous.”
“I’d sleep with one eye open if I were you.”
“Game on.” With a flick to my cheek, she turns on her heel and marches back into my parents’ house. I hear her jovially call out Mac’s name.
It’s kind of like her constant presence in my life these days. She’s determined. Ambitious. And arrived just in the nick of fucking time.
TWENTY-EIGHT
BRIDGET
“Hey,”I say, looking up from the whipped cream I’m piping onto a drink. “I wanted to talk to you about something.”
Theo’s eyes shift from his laptop to me. He’s been working at the end of the bar all morning without saying much, brows knitted and scrunched. His focus has hardly wavered. The only sign of emotion from him was when I set down a cappuccino and blueberry muffin an hour ago. He gave me a bright smile and dug into the pastry.
“What’s up?”
“Remember the book club you invaded last month?”
“Did I do that?” he asks. “I don’t recall.”
“Very funny. I wanted to let you know our next meeting is tomorrow night.”
He sits up straighter. “Thanks for the heads up. What book is on the agenda this time?”
“You really want to know?”
“Of course. Since I got an in-depth listen last time, I’d hate to be left out this go round.”
“Oh.” I run my palms over the front of my apron. I nudge the piping can away and grab a handful of napkins, replenishing the depleted stack in the middle of the counter. My skin is turning pink at his question. I know I could easily ignore it, brush it aside and get back to work. It feels like achallenge, though, like he doesn’t think I’ll tell him. I level my eyes with his. “It’s about… um… this… it's about a married couple who realize they’re both in love with his best friend. They, uh, ask him to watch them. Then join in.”
Holy hell, that was nearly impossible to get out. My cheeks are flaming and my shirt is sticking to my skin, growing damp with sweat.
“What’s the title?” Theo asks.
“Um. It’s calledMore.”
“Cool.” He clicks on his computer, tapping away on the keys. “Just ordered it.”
“You didwhat?” I blurt out.
“I thoroughly enjoyed your discussion last time, so I want to see what all the fuss is about with the next one. It’ll give me something to do when I’m home tomorrow night, not interrupting you.”
“B-but you… Men don’t…”
“Why don’t you finish that sentence? Men don’t what, Bridget?”
