Page 141 of The Holiday Fakers
Even now,at twenty-eight, when things go wrong and I’m hurting, I want my mom. However, I didn’t expect to have to share her with a guy in his sixties who reeks of cologne and whiskey, and is having a “come-to-Jesus” moment.
We’re all gathered in a booth at Love at First Sip, Brody by my side, and Mom and Marv across from us. Eileen took us to her coffee shop after we dragged Marv out of the bookstore, and is currently fussing over him as much as Mom.
“I brought back pulla for you,” Eileen says, placing an entire loaf in front of Marv like a religious offering. “And considering your current state, Lucy’s made you a Heathcliff. It’s our strongest black coffee.”
She sets a mug down in front of him that looks like crude oil. “It’s dark, intense, and a little dangerous. But you’re a New Yorker, so you can handle it, right?”
“I’m a shitty person!” Marv wails, tears tracking down his cheeks from under his sunglasses.
“No, you’re not, honey,” Mom says, stroking his back. “Whatever’s happened, we can fix it. It’s gonna be okay, I promise.”
I grind my teeth as I gaze at them. This was meant to bemypity party, but Marv’s stealing the presents and eating all the cake.
“I’m so sorry!” he continues, then grabs a handful of napkins and blows his nose with the dexterity and grace of a toddler.
“There, there,” Eileen says, quickly cutting slices of Pulla. “Your blood sugar is just a little low and you’re tired and emotional. This should help.”
She pushes a plate toward him. “Go on, eat.”
Hand shaking, Marv picks it up and takes a bite.
There’s a brief moment of quiet, then he lets out another wail, his mouth stuffed with bread. “Ih astes oh ood!”
From Mom and Eileen’s delighted reactions, you’d think he’d just walked on water.
“There we go! Pulla makes everything better!”
“Chew and swallow, sweetie, then have some more.”
Lucy brings over the rest of our drinks, and I cup my Lord Byron cinnamon latte, the scent taking me right back to Espresso Yourself and the first time I met Marv. I can’t help being moved by how upset he is, but I’m also furious with him.
And I’m reeling from what Brody said:he loves me.
Mom’s still rubbing Marv’s back. “So, what’s happened? You know you can tell us anything.”
His head lifts, and I see the shadow of his eyes behind his shades, then he drops his gaze back to the plate of pulla.
“Piper had drawn pictures of me that were private,” Brody says, his voice hard and clipped. “Marv took my phone, most likely when I was recovering from rescuing Billy, sent them to himself, then posted them to my social accounts last night.”
Mom and Eileen’s eyebrows nearly reach their hairlines as they exchange a knowing look.
“Oh,” Mom says, then swallows. “And, uh, thesepictures… were they?—?”
“They weren’t nudes!” I snap.
Mom gives a relieved laugh. “Well, whatwerethey then, honey?”
Brody gazes across at me as if asking my permission.
I nod. The damage is already done, and at least I’m not trying to hide my feelings for him anymore.
He passes his phone to Mom, who scrolls through the carousel while Eileen peers over her shoulder.
Mom sighs with pride. “Oh, sweetie! These are brilliant!”
“And they’re private,” Brody growls.
“I don’t understand why,” Eileen says, her brow furrowed. “They’re wonderful!”
