Cooped Up for Christmas - Sabrina York Page 0,35

Olivia and Wren were already serving. They hadn’t waited for me.

OMG. They’d taken initiative. My babies! I think I felt my heart grow six sizes just then.

Naturally, I didn’t make a fuss when I came in. I just quietly asked Wren, “How’s it going?”

“Good,” she said.

And then, I had to add, because it was coming out no matter what, “Great job, you two.” In tandem, they blushed.

I rode that I’m-a-great-boss high all through brunch. So it was especially wonderful that—at the end of that elaborate meal—Olivia Ann Tully, Samantha “Wren” Parker, and Jed Wentwhistle (like wet whistle, but with an N), witnessed one of the most spectacular moments to occur in all of human history. At least, according to them.

They saw—with their own eyes—actor Jamison Smith go down on one knee and propose to Farley. The Farley.

I mean, really. A celebrity proposal.

I was especially proud when Olivia didn’t faint.

Farley gave a teary acceptance and the two shared promises and apologies they’d written out, making clear this was a staged presentation.

What a pity there were no cameras to catch it all.

Perhaps they hadn’t been thorough enough in their planning—

Oh. But no. There she was. Carmella. Catching it all on her camera phone from the corner.

When they finished reading their proposal…vows?, they kissed, and after that everyone flooded in for a hug.

I barely grabbed Wren in time when she followed.

“Perhaps we should get some champagne ready,” I suggested which sent them all running for the Baccarat. In my head I yelled, No running with the Baccarat! But I thought it really loud. I think they must have heard me, because they slowed down. A little.

Someone warm and yummy-smelling sidled up behind me, and I eased back into him.

How did I know it was him? His scent? His energy? Our chemistry? I don’t know. Maybe all of it. Or maybe I was just drawn to him like filings to a magnet. This is where I belong, my soul sang when I was near him. This is where I can be me.

He felt like home.

“So. Do you think they’re ready for marriage?” he whispered into my ear.

I glanced back at Farley and Jamison, surrounded as they were by well-wishers and sycophants. “They look happy.” It was…an answer.

“But do you think they stand a chance? Honestly?”

“Nope,” I said. “No way.”

“Really?” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Why?”

“Look at them. They’re too young. Too immature. Why? Do you think they have a chance?”

“You never know,” he said with a kiss to my hair. “You never do. If things had been just a little different for us we might have made it.”

“Just a little different?” That was implausible at best.

“If I hadn’t left. If you hadn’t told me to go…who knows what might have happened?”

“But it’s a moot point. The past is the past. What’s done is done.”

“What happened to the woman who believes in second chances?”

“I believe you’re talking about Farley.”

His hold tightened, just incrementally. “Don’t you believe in second chances?” The poignancy in his tone struck me.

I turned around and found myself in his hold. “I suppose I do.” Untrue. I only hoped. And it was the hope that usually undid me. Hope was a scary thing sometimes.

I was saved from further exploratory probing when Farley cried, “Oh yes. Yes!” from amidst her knot of admirers. Then she looked over at me and my heart dropped like an anchor. Because I knew that look. She was about to ask for something impossible.

“Could you do that?”

As this question was definitely directed at me, I smiled and said, “Do what?” because—call me crazy—I prefer specifics in situations like this before I say yes.

Farley’s eyes shone. “Can we have the wedding here? Tomorrow?”

Oh. A wedding tomorrow? Is that all?

“Of course, we can do that for you.”

Olivia did faint then, but fortunately, she was next to Jed and he caught her.

Teamwork. Yay!

All right. Today was Christmas day. They wanted a wedding tomorrow. Tomorrow.

My smile kind of froze on my face. How on earth was I going to pull this off?

First of all, I needed to get out of here. I asked my staff to cover for me and headed back to the servants’ quarters to panic in private.

Coop followed me back to our kitchen. When I dropped into a chair with my head in hands, he was right there with me.

“They want a pastor and a string quartet. Where am I going to get a string quartet on Christmas Day?”

“Be glad they didn’t ask for doves,” he said,