Page 142 of My Favorite Holidate
I’ll start with my friend. Maybe because that’s the easiest, but sometimes that’s how you have to begin.
I return to the main living room, march down the hall to Leo and Charlotte’s cabin, and lift my fist to bang on the door. Before I knock, though, I call out, “Look, I fucked up. I should have told you. But don’t fight with your bride because of?—”
The door swings open, and a disheveled Leo appears, tugging on a sweatshirt, hair a mess, a cocky grin on his face. “What were you saying?”
I blink, taking a beat to process the obvious. “I thought…you and Charlotte were…”
The corner of his lips quirks up. “Fighting?”
“Yeah, you seemed pissed earlier,” I say.
He shrugs. “I was for a minute. But then she explained that some shit went down with her sister and my cousin, and that was all she needed to say.”
Oh. My brow furrows. “It was?”
A voice calls out from beyond the door, “Yes, it was!” Charlotte adds, “We’re all good. I mean, we’re great. Really great.Ohso very great.”
“Clearly.” I breathe my first real sigh of relief. “I thought I messed things up for you two.”
Leo scoffs. “Impossible.” He calls over his shoulder, “Be back in a bit, sweetheart.”
“Don’t take too long,” Charlotte warns in a sensual tone that hints at another round of makeup sex.
“I won’t.” He shuts the door, claps my shoulder, and nods down the hall. “Deck and scotch?”
“A perfect pairing for tonight.”
A few minutes later, we’re parked on the outdoor couch under the stars, the electric fireplace on, drinks poured. Leo holds up a glass. I don’t feel much like toasting, but the way I feel isn’t important, so I clink back and say, “To your wedding tomorrow.”
He shakes me off. “You don’t need to toast my wedding tomorrow. It’s going to be great. We’ll toast to you telling me the truth.” My nice, happy-go-lucky, charming, green-flag best friend who’s kind to everyone shoots me a stern look. “What really happened with my cousin?”
I pause, debating how much truth to tell him, pinch the bridge of my nose, then sayfuck it. Half-truths won’t fix this mess. Avoiding the real story because it might cause awkwardness in the wedding party won’t help anyone. “I didn’t want to tell you. He’s your cousin and a groomsman. You looked out for him growing up. He’s family.”
But Leo just beckons with his fingers. “Serve it up.”
Gladly. Fucking gladly. “At my Thanksgiving dinner, he hooked up with the caterer at Aunt Bibi’s house, sneaking off with her to the wrapping room, where Fable found them right while Brady was singing ‘Joy to the World’ while Iris hummed along with her mouth full.”
Leo freezes for a second, then the glass falls from his hand.
Our hustle to clean up shards of glass on the deck feels like a fitting metaphor for tonight.
49
NO TRESPASSING
Wilder
It’s not my place to saylet’s kick him out.But it is my absolute pleasure to agree when Leo declares, “Let’s kick him out.”
I drop the last dustpan full of glass shards into a sturdy paper bag, then put it in the outdoor garbage bin, saying, “More than happy to.” Tossing out that fucker might be one of the best Christmas presents ever. It’s also the next thing I need to fix in the long list of mistakes I’ve made.
“Yes, but we need a plan.” Leo strokes his chin in the universal signal forI’m devising a brilliant scheme.
But brilliant schemes are right in my wheelhouse. The perfect strategy has come to me fully formed.
I explain it to Leo, and his eyes light up. “Let’s do it now.”
First, I make a few phone calls, arrange a handful of details, and enlist some troops. As I do, Charlotte calls Leoand tells him she forgives him for being late. She also has juicy new info about the gingerbread competition.