Page 85 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show
“Your path to true love?” Ella suggests brightly.
Luke nods. “Exactly. I’m debating the merits of Flora versus Willow and I have some new insights I would love to put on camera as soon as possible.”
Ella’s eyes round. “You do?”
“Uh...huh.” He nods multiple times. “In fact, that’s probably why I’ve been distracted. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about them.”
He gives me a meaningful glance, but it’s hard to believe it’s meant for me when he’s literally talking about true love with two absolutely gorgeous and eligible women all of America would rejoice if he picked.
“It can probably wait...” I say, because hearing Luke expound about another woman’s qualities isn’t exactly what I’m up for.
“We want content,” Ella says firmly. “And Luke is so rarely inspired...”
Luke’s skin pinkens.
“Maybe you can give us a preview?” Ella suggests. “See if it’s important.”
“Oh.” Luke swallows hard, his Adam’s apple rolling. “Right. So you see...”
Everyone stares expectantly at Luke.
Luke’s cheeks move from a pale pink to a more robust pink pink, the kind they use in ungenerously sized cardboard coloring boxes.
“It’s just...” Luke straightens. “Well, the fact that Flora will one day be a dentist is appealing. It would be so great to know I could open my mouth at any time, and she could be able to diagnose any teeth issues.”
“She probably would need more tools than just her head,” Oskar mutters.
Luke slides an irritated glance at him, much like a spy might who finds a Grindr hookup at a secret event.
“Fortunately, very fortunately, I have the funds to purchase my own dentist chair and any, um, equipment she might require. Like those metal pointy things.”
Daniela’s eyes widen, but Luke nods, clearly getting into the spirit of things, and he waves his arms around in total LA-style and I wonder if maybe he’s spending too much time with Ella.
“Oh, yeah. Like long toothpicks but silver. Not actual silver. Just—”
“Fake silver?” Oskar suggests, one eyebrow quivering dangerously close to a higher region of his forehead than his other one.
“Something like that. A dentist would know.”
Ella’s eyes soften. “Like Flora.”
“And we could have one of those pointy things with a mirror on it made from the same material.”
“Fake silver?” Oskar supplies.
Luke gives Oskar a grateful nod, like Oskar has just shown him a silver vein in nineteenth century Nevada and given him a pickaxe.
“And those fluoride creams in rubber teeth molds that almost make you gag.”
“You know a lot about dentistry,” Ella says.
“I’ve been giving it a lot of thought.”
“Well, this is about you finding true love. Your happily ever after. Your Juliet to your Romeo. Your Cleopatra to your Antony. Your Elizabeth Taylor to your Richard Burton.”
“None of those relationships ended well,” Oskar says.
“At least they all didn’t end in violent death,” Daniela muses, ever the optimist and glass not just half full but practically full expert.
