A Very Bossy Christmas - Kayley Loring Page 0,54
sofa. “Is my neighbor throwin’ his trash in my bins again? I swear to gawd this time I’ll kill him.”
“Dec,” I say into the phone. “What are you doing here?”
“OMG, is he here?!” Piper jumps up and runs over to the window next to me.
“Is who here?” My sister comes over to look.
My niece’s hands shoot up in the air as she does a victory dance. “It’s Declan! He’s out front! I gave him the address, and he came!”
“Gave who the address? Who’s Declan?” My mother gets up from the sofa to join us. “Dad—pause the movie!”
“Where is everyone going all of a sudden?” my dad asks. “This is my favorite part of the entire film.”
When Declan looks up from the street, he sees my whole family and me peering out the window at him excitedly, like he’s Santa Claus and we’re all finding out he’s real after all these years of being cynics.
“Well, I was in the neighborhood…” he finally says. “There appears to be a group of people staring at me through a window.”
“That’s us. Come inside.”
“Okay, but what did you tell them about us? About me?”
“Everything. They know everything,” I say, and then I hang up.
“You guys—that’s my new boss and I’m pretending to be his girlfriend over the holidays, but don’t make a big deal about it. Okay?”
I look back out the window and watch Declan slide his phone into his jacket pocket, carrying a shopping bag, as he crosses the street to walk up the driveway. It’s dark out, and he’s lit by a nearby streetlamp, but you can still see, plain as day, that he’s the best-looking guy on Staten Island right now.
“Oh, he’s very good-looking,” my mother says.
“Wait till you see his butt!” Piper exclaims.
“You’re only pretending for the holidays?” my mom asks. “What then?”
“Good question, Mom,” my sister says. “What then, Maddie?”
I wave them both off. “It’s just for the holidays. Everybody behave!”
“What is happening? Maddie, do you have a boyfriend? Is your boyfriend comin’ inside?” My aunt fusses with her hair and apron and starts skittering about. “Aw shit! I wasn’t expectin’ company.”
“What are you talking about? We’re company,” my dad says.
“I mean male company.”
“What are we, chopped liver?” Bex’s husband asks.
“Basically.” Bex plops down on his lap, kisses his cheek, and then steals a bite of his Rice Krispy treat, and they are so cute together it hurts. What they have, it’s secretly all I’ve ever really wanted. Even before I knew about the ferry sex.
“Oh calm down, Mel!” my mom yells as she frantically straightens up the pillows on all of the sofas and armchairs in my aunt’s living room. “The place looks terrific. What man doesn’t love being surrounded by bargain-priced glittery Christmas ornaments and starfish with Santa hats? Especially lawyers?”
“Yeah,” Piper says without any irony whatsoever. “You’ve got a cute stuffed raccoon in a wool cap and scarf on the mantle. He’ll love it! But Declan will only have eyes for Maddie anyway.”
I grab that kid’s sweet face and kiss her on the top of her head before going to the door to pull my boots on.
“Don’t let him in yet!” my aunt shrieks. “It smells like roast chicken farts in here! Open a window! Open all of the windows!”
My dad and brother-in-law point at each other, and I crack open a window because she’s not wrong. But all houses smell like that at holiday dinners, right? If Declan can’t deal with my family’s chicken farts, then he can just go straight back to the office.
I open the front door and step out onto the porch, hugging myself tight and jogging in place. Not because it’s cold as fuck but because my heart is racing, and I have so much nervous energy I feel like I could outrun the Polar Express right now. This is so unlike me, but these past few days have been unlike anything I’ve ever experienced or imagined myself. There isn’t even anything fairy tale romantic or extraordinary about it, and that’s what makes it even more surreal.
Declan Cannavale is walking up the driveway to my aunt’s house. Where my family is gathered. In Staten Island. And I didn’t have to get him to sign a contract or offer a few days off in return, either. Talk about a Christmas miracle.
I wait for him to walk up the steps, and then I do the dumbest thing yet—I hold my hand out to shake his.
He stares at my outstretched hand for a second and