Page 71 of Mistletoe, Mayhem & Mr. Grump
"Not all the ingredients," Giuseppe clarifies. "Just the regular ones. Like when I say there's love in the pasta. It's actually oregano."
"Oregano isn't love?" Teddy asks, genuinely disappointed.
"Oregano is oregano," Giuseppe says. "Love is... love"
"The important thing now is Wren is going to the gala alone," Teddy says. "Malcolm will pounce."
"I won't be alone," I say. "You'll all be there."
"We can't protect you from his yacht stories," Finn warns.
"Can we please focus?" I beg. "I need a plan that doesn't involve Holden."
"All the best plans involve Holden," Delia says. "He scored highest in every metric except automotive knowledge."
"And honesty," I point out. "He scored zero in honesty." I remind her. “Besides, I don’t care about your point system. I can’t afford to care anymore.”
"Actually, he scored six point five," Delia corrects, checking her notes. "Points for eventually admitting the truth."
"He only admitted it because that guy, Sterling, outed him!" I protest.
My phone rings. Unknown number. I answer it against my better judgment.
"Wren! Darling!" Malcolm's voice oozes through the speaker like expensive cologne that's trying too hard. "I wanted to confirm that you received my text about tomorrow."
"I received it," I say flatly.
The committee leans in like they're watching a soap opera.
"Wonderful! I'm bringing Anastasia. You'll love her. She's a yoga instructor with her own Instagram brand," he says, like this is an impressive attribute.
"How nice for you," I manage.
"She has two hundred thousand followers," he continues. "Her handle is YogaWithAnastasia. Very clever, right?"
"Groundbreaking," I say.
Giuseppe makes a gagging motion. Delia charts something in her notebook.
"I heard you're dating someone," Malcolm continues. "Some mechanic? How... quaint."
"He's very talented," I say, which is technically true. He's talented at lying.
"I'm sure he is. Does he have a yacht?" Malcolm asks innocently.
"No," I admit.
"Pity. Anastasia loves yachts. We're taking a Caribbean cruise next month. The yacht needs international waters," he explains.
"How nice that your yacht has ambitions," I say.
The committee gives me silent applause.
"Yes, well, I'll see you at the gala. Save me that dance!" He hangs up before I can refuse.
"I'm going to need so much wine," I announce.
"I'll bring a flask," Mrs. Patterson offers.
