Page 67 of Wrapped with a Beau

“I didn’t name them,” Ves says defensively, not wanting to get into Maeve’s celebrity crushes. “Actually, it’s good you called. You saw Dominique’s email about the arrival of my author copies?”

“Yup, I’m cc’ed on everything.”

“Do you think you can get her to send me some books early? And if you go to my apartment, grab some of the first two and mail them to me here?”

“Yeah, don’t see why not. Are you doing a school visit or something? Aren’t schools already out for winter break?”

“The Chocolate Mouse runs a toy drive and I thought it would be nice to offer some of my books.”

“Damn, you’re a regular Christmas elf and a cat dad,” teases Arun. “I’ll toss in some of my other clients’ books, too, if that’s okay? I have some of the sweetest picture books.”

“That would be great,” says Ves. “You’re the best.”

“This can’t possibly be the first time you’ve come to this conclusion.”

“Lifetime or in recent memory?”

Arun laughs. “You shithead.”

“You called me Veselin, asshat. I haven’t heard that in years.”

“Mea culpa. I will never again insult you or your fur babies.”

Ves cringes. It sounds like the kind of thing that goes in social media captions. “Never say that again, either. I’m imagining Gizmo from Gremlins now and I. Blame. You.”

“Fine, fine, whatever you want. Keep me updated on the pet sitch, though? I’m still trying to convince Cade that we should get a corgi, so I’ll be living vicariously through you for now.”

“Done,” Ves says with a grin.

“Anyway, the other reason I called,” says Arun. “I know it’s kind of late notice, but I had this idea for our first married Christmas together that we’d throw a super-sophisticated, aspirational dinner party. And, of course, it’s not Christmas without our best friend! Next week. Do not try to get out of it, none of this third-wheel nonsense. You’re coming and that’s final. That way you can save me some shipping and collect the books yourself.”

“You’re holding my donations hostage?”

“I’m a good agent and even better friend,” Arun says smugly. “Let’s call it incentivizing my client.”

Ves doesn’t even need to think about it. “I’m there,” he promises, and he hears the breath of relief all the way from Arun’s home office.

“And definitely bring Elisha,” says Arun. It’s less of an ask and more of an edict. “You know,” he continues, a smirk in his voice, “the girl you aren’t falling for.”

“We’re not that kind of couple,” Ves says distractedly.

He pauses in front of an antique shop window, gaze snagging on a vintage trinket jar. Amber glass with a metal top, polished to a brilliant gleam, and sporting a pretty finial.

But what captures him the most are the dozens of rusty old keys stuffed inside. The shop is closed for lunch, which isn’t a problem, because there’s something he needs to get first.

“Not the kind of couple who eat? Who socialize?”

“She has to work. This movie is really important to her. Production starts here in mid-January.”

“I respect the work ethic, but don’t count her out. This girl is something special. She’s got you cooing over cats and bitching less and less about being away from the city. It’s practically a Christmas miracle.”

Ves inhales pine and snow and what smells like fresh bread baking in a nearby restaurant. His next exhale is pure patience. “It’s nothing of the kind. I do not coo and I do not bitch.”

Arun laughs. “Wrong and so wrong. Come on, man. You never date over the holidays, but now you’re abandoning your golden rule for this one girl? I don’t remember the last person you dated who lasted more than three months! How long is that feasible or are you waiting to exhaust every woman between eighteen and eighty?”

“Leave it, Arun.”

“No, I won’t. I know you’d probably prefer that I butt out,” Arun says frankly. “But what kind of friend would I be if I let you miss out on having the kind of love you’ve wanted your whole life?”

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