Page 115 of The Holiday Hate-Off
“What was today’s challenge?” she asks, smiling slightly.
“To count the number of reindeer decorations I saw on the way to work. Forty-five.” I smile back at her. “You always know how to make things fun. I’ve enjoyed all of my challenges.”
“But I failed you with Santa Speed Dating,” she says sadly. “I’ve been fretting about it for days. And Iwashoping that something glorious would blossom between you and Hudson. It would be such a thing for one of my girls to marry Erica’s son.”
“I don’t think he’s my type,” I say honestly.
“No, I expect not.” She gives me a knowing look that makes me shrink into my seat. “I was really hoping to find you a nice man by Christmas.”
I twist my mouth. “Maybe I’ll go back to the Wishing Bridge to make another wish.”
“The bridge always gives you what you need, Lucy,” she says seriously, “especially if you go with an open heart, and most especially at this time of year. But what you need might not be what you think you want. Remember that.”
Her words rattle me, but I can’t fully process them. Not yet. So I change the subject. “Uh, so Francesca wants to bury the hatchet?”
“She told me all would be forgiven if I help her find life partners for her grandchildren.”
Having just taken a sip of my latte, I almost spit it out at her. “All four?”
She smiles. “All four.”
“Is there a time limit?”
She releases a sigh. “She’d prefer for it to happen before she leaves this mortal coil. Francesca is very dramatic.”
“What did you say?”
“I said yes, of course.” She smiles at me, every inch the beauty queen she once was. “There’s nothing I enjoy more than a matchmaking challenge. If you want to know the truth, it feels like she gave me a beautiful Christmas present.”
“Let me guess,” I say, trying to act calm even though my pulse is racing. “You were already going to play matchmaker for all of them anyway?”
She tilts her head, gazing at me with a glint in her eyes. “Would you like to help?”
“I still don’t think you should try to find someone for Enzo,” I say, my mouth puckering. “He doesn’t want to be in a relationship.”
“Some people don’t know what they want until they’ve had a taste of it,” she says pointedly. “It’s like the Wishing Bridge. It may grant you your wishes, but not necessarily in the way you thought it would.”
The front door creaks open, and I glance over, half expecting it to be Enzo. But it’s Charlie.
Of courseit’s Charlie. I’m honestly surprised she didn’t show up sooner, but the hollows under her eyes suggests she’s even more hungover than I am.
She gasps the second she sees me. “You’ve had sex,” she accuses. “I knew it.”
“Yes,” Eileen says, unable to hide her amusement. “I rather think we were getting to that.”
I bury my face in my hands. “I didn’t want you to find out like this.”
Charlie hurries over to us and pries one of my hands away from my face. “You didn’t want us to find out at all.”
“That too.”
Eileen is beaming at me, and Charlie’s watching me with sharp interest. I feel like a slide under a microscope.
“It happened this morning, not last night, right?” Charlie asks. “Because otherwise Enzo’s a dead man.”
“Definitely this morning. He was…” I sigh, hating the necessity of admitting this, “a perfect gentleman last night.”
“Good,” Charlie says. “So…tell us more. Tell useverything.”
