camera!” Morticia reminded me.
“These should be in the same category as sex,” I said, shaking my head. “You should only eat one of these cinnamon buns in bed with a special someone and not in front of an audience.”
“If you’re going to get cream cheese frosting all over your face, then yes.” Morticia huffed.
Cindy Lou leaned in to delicately lick my chin.
“Stop that,” Morticia ordered the cat. She swiped my face with the kitchen towel that had been covering the buns. “Belle is going to kill me,” she said.
The condo door opened.
“I’m not going to kill you,” Belle assured her. “Honestly, Jonathan, you said you were coming out here because your cat was having anxiety issues.”
“Cindy Lou is a delicate flower,” I said, standing up.
“I thought you said her name was Princess Muffy.”
“I changed it,” I said, taking another bite of the cinnamon bun.
“What are you eating? Oh my god, I cannot believe you!” Belle exclaimed. “I’m trying to put on a show.”
I silently fed my sister a bite of the cinnamon roll. “You’re welcome,” I said sagely then took the plate with the last remaining one on it and stood in front of the nearest camera.
“Dear America,” I said as Cindy Lou struggled up to perch on my shoulder. “Today I have eaten the greatest dessert in the history of Christmas. This caramel-apple cinnamon bun is life changing. I am a new man!” I held up the last one. “Behold, Christmas perfection!”
I grabbed Morticia and pulled her in next to me. “Now that I am three rolls deep, Morticia, would you like to tell the fans about your cinnamon buns?”
“Secret family recipe,” she said brusquely.
“You sound unhinged,” Belle hissed at me.
I looked down at the plate. “Hey! Who ate all the cinnamon rolls?”
“For f—” my sister began.
“Party games!” Keeley all but shrieked.
I winced. Cindy Lou made an irritated noise. I handed her to a production assistant to put her in my bedroom. Unfortunately, I could not be so lucky as to escape the PJ party myself.
“I think I smashed those cinnamon rolls a little quickly,” I whispered to Morticia.
“Each one is so large that it’s about four serving sizes, so you probably ate two weeks’ work of your daily cinnamon bun allotment in about five minutes.” A small smile played around her mouth.
Maybe she didn’t despise me completely.
“Drink?” Keeley offered, shoving a mug of bourbon hot chocolate in my face.
“Can I just have the bourbon?” I asked weakly.
“But it’s Christmas!” she insisted. “Look! There are peppermint marshmallows in it!”
I handed the mug to Morticia. She took a sip and winced. “There’s peppermint schnapps in it too.”
“And essential oils!” Keeley chirped.
I took the mug back and tasted it. “That’s like a Christmas Long Island iced tea.”
“There’s nothing wrong with it,” Keeley insisted. “Besides, you have to drink while we play spin the bottle.”
I almost spat out the drink. “No,” I said flatly.
“Come on,” Keeley whined.
I looked helplessly at Belle.
“Just one spin. It’s good TV.”
Fuck.
“What happened to being a protective big sister?” I demanded.
“You ate all the cinnamon rolls,” Belle retorted, “then went on an unhinged rant. I doubt we’ll be able to use the footage.”
“I—yes, I did.”
“I thought this was supposed to be a wholesome PJ party,” Morticia whispered to me.
“Not when they’re all dressed like that,” I retorted under my breath.
“You should talk,” she said in a low voice. “You’re not wearing a shirt.”
We settled on the floor as Keeley handed me an empty bourbon bottle. “Whoever it lands on, you have to go kiss.”
“Yes,” Morticia said, “because apparently none of us here has matured past the age of fourteen.”
“I’m sure some of us haven’t,” Keeley growled at Morticia.
Morticia’s mouth was a hard line of blood-red lipstick.
“Go on, Jonathan, spin the bottle.”
I looked around at the scantily clad women who had invaded my space. I didn’t want to kiss any of them. There was a reason I kept very firm boundaries between my personal life, my business, and my social life. The last time I had brought a woman back to my place and had a relationship, it had been like throwing a nuclear bomb into a dumpster fire.
I didn’t want any of these women to think they had some sort of a chance with me. I would never settle down. Even if I did wish I could have a family and the traditional Christmas with the kids and presents and cinnamon buns in the morning, that was all it was—a dream. But all these women waited breathlessly, like