Page 72 of The Holiday Ex-Files

Mara closed her eyes and shook her head. “Please just tell me this is like a midlife crisis, or something that will pass.”

I put my arm around her and gave her a squeeze. “The good news is that with the way she’s moving at her age, she’ll probably need a bottle of Advil tomorrow and to lie in bed all day. It will be a good reminder for her.”

Mara groaned. “I just hope no one is recording this.”

I hoped not either. “Come on, let’s go show everyone how it’s done.”

Mara took another peek at her mom and cringed, but then some Justin Timberlake came on and Mara’s face lit up. She could never resist a Justin song.

We found a spot on the dance floor toward the middle and got our figure-eight sways on like our hips were born for swinging. You know who else had some moves? Annika. Several feet away, I saw her up close against Noah like this was Dirty Dancing or something. I’m sorry, but she was no Baby. But Noah seemed to be enjoying himself, like Patrick Swayze, judging by the stupid grin on his face.

I had to turn around and avoid the scene. I was being ridiculous. Noah was my friend. I was happy for him. Annika was a good person, even if her shiny hair was extensions and her boobs were fake. She was always the first to volunteer, and she was a family lawyer; her life’s mission was to help kids. She was perfect for Noah.

She also keeps a photo of her impaling her ex on her nightstand, Sparkles reminded me.

Well, we can’t all be perfect.

You know who is good for Noah? Me.

I pushed away her thought, my thought. I didn’t know whose thought that was, but it didn’t belong in my head—or worse, my heart. My heart that was beating wildly out of control, and not because I was shaking my hips like a Shakira wannabe. I had made a vow to stay a born-again virgin. I screwed up so badly last time. And now here I was, having feelings for a man whose heart belonged to another. I had serious issues and obviously could not be trusted in matters of the heart.

When the song was over, I told Mara I needed some water. I slipped away and found a quiet table in the back to be alone with my thoughts. More like I desperately tried to push them away, but the sparkly side wasn’t backing down. She demanded to be heard, to be trusted. She wanted grace to learn from her mistake. Let’s be honest—our mistake. Okay, my mistake. I had to stop feeling like two people. I knew I had to decide who I was.

While I contemplated this complex issue, Noah threw himself in the chair next to me. All smiles.

“I’ve been looking for you.”

“You have?”

“Why do you sound so surprised? We’ve hardly been able to talk.”

I scanned the room to find Annika at the auction table. “It looks like you were having fun with Annika, or should I say Elena?”

“What a weird coincidence, huh?”

“Totally weird,” I lied.

Noah laughed. “She was an even bigger fan of those books than you were.”

“How funny,” I said, strained.

“Anyway.” He leaned toward me. “You look great. I love the costume. It’s you, Gallagher Girl.”

My cheeks pinked. “I’m surprised you know what that is.”

“Are you kidding me? Don’t you remember when we . . .” He cleared his throat.

I knew who the we was.

“. . . helped you move back home after you graduated? You made us take extra special care of those books. Then you proceeded to give us a play-by-play of the entire series on the drive back to Nevada. That was a long ten hours,” he teased.

“Excuse me. You seemed to be awfully interested in chicks who went on kick-butt missions.”

He tugged on a strand of my hair. “I was definitely interested.” His voice turned low all of a sudden, which sent a streak of heat through me as if I’d been struck by lightning.

I gripped the table, feeling stupid and vulnerable. “Well, I appreciated you indulging me.”

“Anytime.” He grinned.

I inched away from him as far as I could on my seat without looking like an idiot. “So, did the boys have fun trick-or-treating?” Noah had taken them because Shanna wasn’t feeling well and Adonis wanted to stay with her.

“We crushed it. Four big bags,” he bragged.

“I’m sure Shanna loves that.”

“Not so much.” He laughed his infectious laugh.

“How is she feeling?”

“Better. Except she’s blaming you for her addiction to pumpkin cupcakes.”

I smiled, not only because Shanna liked the cupcakes I’d dropped off to her yesterday, but because I had remembered how much she’d liked them in the past and thought to make her some. It was very sparkly of me.

“I’m proud to be your friend,” Noah added.

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