Page 52 of My Favorite Holidate
But I’m looking. And I’m liking this. “You’re holding my hand,” I whisper.
He starts to let go. “I was…practicing.”
“We’re getting good at that. Practicing.”
There’s a slight hitch in his breath, then he grits out, “We are.”
I grab hold tighter on his hand so he can’t stop. “Keep practicing.”
He blinks, and for a few dangerous seconds, I swear I see something real flash in his eyes.
But that can’t be. He’s just very, very good at everything he does, including this game. And soon, it’s showtime.
16
HAVE YOURSELF A MERRY LITTLE PAYBACK
Wilder
The number of men here in undershirts with smudge on their faces is…well, there are too many. At least that’s better than adults in bunny jammies.
“Grown men in jammies,” I say to Leo. Leaning against the kitchen counter, we watch the guests drink mimosas and discuss their costumes. “Things that should not be allowed in public.”
“Even for a Christmas costume party, jammies are too much. Also, I don’t like the word jammies.”
I laugh. “So don’t use it.”
“That’s it. Done. Never saying it again.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Besides, Ralphie detested the pink bunny pajamas made famous inA Christmas Story. Memorializing the kid’s humiliation, even a fictional kid…?
“That’s just wrong,” I say, nodding to the not one but two guys dressed in pink flannel.
Leo tips his chin toward a man in a Scrooge costume—a nightshirt and a robe. “Another costume that’s an excuse to wear pjs to a party. Wrong too.” He turns to me. “Does that make us scrooges?”
“If we are, I’ll die on Scrooge Hill. You shouldn’t wear slippers, bathrobes, or pajamas out of the house. Ortosomeone else’s house. It defeats the basic premise and promise of pajamas,” I say, then eye Leo’s getup—John McClane, AKA Bruce WiIlis’s character fromDie Hard,in the classic tank top. “But you’re okay.”
Leo gestures to his action hero attire. “It was either this orElf.”
“And you picked McClane because you don’t look good in tights?” I ask, with a straight face.
He laughs. “Man, I’m not sure anyone does,” he says as my gaze strays again to the door. It’s been doing that often as I await the inevitable.
The arrival of the jackass ex.
As if the alarm system read my mind, the panel by the door buzzes. Leo and I head to the foyer and check the screen. I grit my teeth at the sight of Brady, but I let him in, anyway. He strides inside and—that’shis costume?
Of coursethat’s his costume, glasses and all. It’s so fitting.
“Leo, my man!” he says. I think I detect a British accent. Or really, Brady’s attempt at a British accent? Guess he’s committed to his character. “Are you counting down the last days of bachelorhood?”
Leo laughs, shaking his head. “More like counting down to the most wonderful day of all.”
“Right, right,” Brady says, all jovial and cousin-y.
It takes every ounce of restraint not to give him a pieceof my mind. I know what he did. And he’s scum. He hurt Fable.
There’s also part of me that’s keenly aware that if she hadn’t walked in on him, we might not be faking it. And so far, this fake romance is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.