Page 82 of Holiday Vibes

Evie peeks around the corner, catching my eyes and giving me a hopeful look. Celia’s looking for something in the fridge, so I grab the cookies and quickly hold them out to her. She takes three, smiles at me shyly, and darts away. Before I can put them back, Timothy strolls in and grabs the container.

Celia closes the fridge with her foot and carries two bowls of salad to the island. Timothy’s not fast enough to hide the cookies from her.

“Dinner is almost ready,” she says irritably.

“So?” Timothy says with a mouthful of cookie.

“So don’t ruin your appetite.”

“Timothy.” Amanda’s voice snaps like a whip as she steps into the room, Evie trailing behind her. “Stop giving the kids cookies right before dinner.”

“I didn’t!” He points at me. “It was Nic.”

I raise both hands in the air. “I would never.”

Timothy’s expression turns faux-murderous. “Better sleep with one eye open tonight, Fontana.”

“I’d rethink a midnight murder, Timbo,” Jessie says. “You might see something you don’t want to see.”

Timothy gags. “Never mind.”

“Timothy and Amanda, set the table,” Celia calls out. “Jessie, clean up your corner. Evie, sweetie, you can put the napkins out. Nic, get the wine. Dinner’s ready in twenty minutes.”

It’s closer to forty minutes before everyone is sitting around the table, since getting all the Foleys together in one place can be a bit like herding cats. Conversation flows, everyone laughing, eating, and giving each other a hard time, and I can’t remember a better Christmas. Ever.

Jessie and I hold hands under the table, and every time she looks at me, I smile.

Some future Christmas, Jessie’s going to bring another boyfriend home to meet the family. A husband. Their kids, if they have any. I’ll have to sit at this table. Make small talk. Smile. But every time I catch Jessie’s eyes, she’s going to remember this Christmas with me. I’m going to make sure she never forgets.

Chapter twenty-eight

Jessie

Everyonegoestobedearly. We’re all exhausted from last night’s Folly and a big Christmas dinner. Nic’s already gone to bed, but I ignored his hint that I should join him. I want to stare at the tree for a little bit. Think about today.

Painting felt right, and it’s taking all the self-control I have not to spend the night with a brush in my hand. I think I’m going to take a shot at that commission from Gretchen Torres. I’m going to paint her little ‘pieces of eroticism’ the way I’d like to paint them. And never show them to her, because even if I love what I create, I can’t see myself putting my work under her critical eye. She’ll crush my heart and make it that much harder when I pick up the brush next. This is too new, too fragile for rejection.

My phone chimes.

Merry Xmas WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU AND NIC OMG?!?!

Lauren

Honestly, I thought the news would spread faster through the extended family. Lauren spent Christmas Eve with her mother’s family, so she missed the drama of the Folly, but still.

It’s just a fling. Nothing to tell.

Me

Oh, no. Not buying it. Your flings have made it so much easier to do my job. There has to be something you can share.

Lauren

Lauren is the resident sex-pert at Sploosh!, handling advice about sex and relationships as well as products in blogs, videos, and social media posts. I used to do that job, but as I moved more into marketing, Lauren took over. And there is no way I’m giving her anything that might end up online.

We’ll catch up—off the record—when I’m back in the city. Get a package (??) for xmas?

Me

---