A Very Bossy Christmas - Kayley Loring Page 0,55

then says, “Oh. Okay.”

I had my mouth on his penis this morning, and now it feels awkward to hug him, so this is what’s happening.

Declan Cannavale has broken my brain.

“Nice to see you. Happy Christmas,” he says like an uptight British guy.

I swat at his hand. “Oh shut up. I’m nervous.”

“That’s adorable. I’m not. At all.” I can tell he is, though. He totally is, and we’re so fucking cute I want to hug both of us.

But I don’t.

“Whatcha got there?” I nod at the bag in his hand.

“I had the driver drop me off at a gift shop,” he says, shrugging and grinning. He holds up a plastic bag from a souvenir and gift shop on Fifth Avenue, and I want to French kiss that dimple on his stubbly cheek. But not in front of my dad.

“You got my family New York souvenirs. That’s funny.” I hold my hand up for a high-five. “That is really cute.”

“Well, I’m fucking adorable, so what’d you expect?”

We just stand here, staring at each other and grinning like goofballs for a minute.

“Hi,” he says, pushing a strand of hair out of my face.

“Hi.” I rub the scruff on the sides of his face. I think this is how happy I would have felt if I’d actually gotten the puppy I wanted for Christmas when I was eight, except this puppy has a law degree and looks like an underwear model. Goddammit. My heart feels so full right now. And the rest of me is horny. Really, really horny. “So you have a car?”

“I was drinking a bit earlier, so I had someone drive me here. Sent him back though. I wasn’t sure how you wanted to go back to the city. I mean, assuming you wanted to go back to the city tonight. With me.”

“I do. We’re taking the ferry. We should go inside now.”

“Yep. Let’s do this.”

I take his hand to lead him inside. Not because he’s my fake boyfriend but because I do it without thinking. And I’m not even going to think about what that means. I open the door and peek inside to find Mel running around spritzing apple cider–scented bathroom spray like a maniac.

“Mel! The house smells fine! We’re coming in!”

I pull Declan into the living room, and we’re met with my family’s wide-eyed, sheepish faces and silence because my mom made my dad pause Love Actually again. So all I can hear is the beating of my very confused heart and the train set that’s going around my aunt’s fake Christmas tree.

“Hi there,” Declan says, surveying the room. “I like that raccoon. I have a scarf just like his.”

Twenty-Eight

Declan

HAVE YOURSELF A STATEN ISLAND FERRY CHRISTMAS

It took Hannah three months to convince me to go home with her to meet her parents on Thanksgiving back when we were in college. At that point, we’d been dating for almost a year. Granted, I was nineteen and a total shit, but it felt like a really big deal, and it was. We had our first real relationship-y fights about it. She wanted to meet my family too. I also met that request with all of the resistance of a nineteen-year-old total shit. But we did finally do the family holiday thing. That made the relationship feel more real to me. I felt more like a grown-up. All it really was, was the first time Hannah had met Brady. I thought it was the beginning of something, and it was. Not for me but for them.

It took three days, six lonely hours at the office, four fingers of whiskey, and a text from a thirteen-year-old to convince me to come meet Maddie’s family. And while it may be significant for a thirty-two-year-old semi-shit to do this, I think that I would do anything for Maddie right now if she asked me to. And that would have been true even after only two fingers of whiskey.

I mean, I’m the king of gift-giving, and I got her parents a fucking New York City snow globe. As an inside joke between Maddie and me. I look like an ass. But I don’t care because Maddie gets the joke. I was not, however, expecting Maddie’s Aunt Mel to be so excited about the creepy Nutcracker doll that I got for half off. There must be a bare three-inch square space of surface somewhere in this house that she’s been saving for something just like it.

“Oh get out of here, mistah! Hello—did you read my mind?”