Page 116 of The Holiday Hate-Off
“Look, it’s no big deal,” I say, embarrassed, especially since Eileen is listening with interest. “It’s only a physical connection.”
Charlie lifts her eyebrows. “I beg to differ. Itisa big deal. He’s the first person you’ve ever slept with.”
Damn it. I didn’t think she knew that. I’d sidestepped the topic for years.
“Oh,really?” Eileen says with far too much interest.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I insist, even though the wrenching feeling in my chest suggests otherwise. “I wanted to get it out of the way, and Enzo offered himself as tribute, and that’s all there is to it.”
“A lot of people would have offered,” Charlie points out. “I suspect a lot of peoplehaveoffered.”
I shrug. “The timing was right. Like I said, Enzo isn’t looking for anything, and he definitely doesn’t tick all the boxes on my mom’s checklist. Besides, we barely tolerate each other.”
“Remember what I said about that,” Eileen interjects, and I realize her pep talk about the beginning of her relationship with Murray was more pointed than I’d thought.
“Besides, it definitely didn’t look like you hated each otheryesterday,” Charlie says. “You were dancing cheek to cheek at the candy shop, and he treated you like you were a ninety-year-old with brittle bones when he swooped in to take care of you last night.”
“I don’t want to be treated like a ninety-year-old with brittle bones. I want to be treated like a woman capable of making my own decisions.”
“You weren’t last night,” Charlie says. “You were three sheets to the wind.” She lifts a hand before I can protest. “So was I, so I’m in no position to judge. But, you know, he was actually pretty cool about everything.”
“Because he liked being in control,” I say, clutching the edge of the booth like it’s a lifeline. That’s partially true, but it doesn’t feel fair, exactly. He has reasons for seeking out control.
“Remember the story of the Wishing Bridge,” Eileen says again, tapping the side of the table.
“I know what you’re implying,” I say. “You’re telling me Enzo might be exactly what I need, and I agree with you. He’s exactly what I needright now. There’s no future, and there shouldn’t be. He’s an egotistical jerk half the time, and he’s desperate to leave Hideaway Harbor.”
“Perhaps he simply hasn’t realized that he’d like to stay,” Eileen says with a sweet smile.
“Can we please talk about something else?” I ask. “I’m begging you. Let’s go through your list of single people.”
“I’ve got you covered,” Charlie says, lifting up a finger. And she pulls up Eileen’s Google doc, which she’s shared with both of us, on her phone. “Ooh, I see you’ve got something cooking for Audrey today?”
I glance at the wall separating our business from Making Whoopie, wondering what Audrey has waiting for her. Audrey’s a workaholic, but I can tell she’s lonely, and both of us have groaned about the horrors of single life around here.
“Yes,” Eileen says, her eyes glittering. “There’s a very handsome lawyer in town?—”
“Mark Parks?” I ask in horror.
“Oh, no, not him. This young man is a friend of Amanda’s, as it happens. We sense some delicious tension between him and Audrey.”
“What are they doing today?” I ask.
“A gingerbread house building competition.”
“Why aren’t we doing that?” Charlie asks. “It sounds fun.”
“Have you ever tried to build a gingerbread house?” I ask. “It’s not fun. You have to hold the pieces in place forever to get them to stick, and even then, they don’t stick. I think those gorgeous houses people make must be made by wizardry.”
“But Audrey will kill it,” Charlie says, stealing my latte. “She’s already a wizard.”
I nod, stealing the phone from her to check out the rest of the list. Wren Wilde’s on there, with the name Hawthorne next to hers, followed by a question mark. Fredrik, the bookstore owner is also on there. As well as Lumi, the postmistress, and half a dozen other people.
I scroll to the bottom of the list, smile at Eileen, and add three names: Giovanni Cafiero, Nico Cafiero, and Aria Cafiero.
But I don’t add the fourth, and Eileen doesn’t comment on it. She simply peers at me with a knowing smile.
When I get backto the little turquoise cottage with its weird collection of taxidermied animals, I gasp at the sight of a wrapped package sitting on the doorstep. Its wrapping paper is covered in little leaping cats.
