A Very Bossy Christmas - Kayley Loring Page 0,59
somewhere back in Youngstown. I don’t miss being a cocky shithead—well, maybe a little—but there’s a river of doubt that’s a lot wider than the New York Harbor separating me from the place that I want to get to with Maddie.
She pulls away from me, slowly, and I look down at her. I should say something. Aren’t I the guy who always knows what to say? As always, she saves me from myself by staring over my shoulder and saying, “Look.”
I turn to see the Statue of Liberty. Glowing and majestic. A beacon of hope and opportunity for weary travelers. The goddess of liberty before me, a goddess of sex and executive administrative skills and potentially a domestic goddess that I would shack up with right behind me.
“Your place or mine?” she asks, wrapping her arms around my waist and pressing her cheek against my back.
“Anywhere. Long as I’m with you,” I say. I say it out loud because fuck you, Colin Firth—I can have hot quick and dirty sex on a ferry and say cheesy things without laughing.
It doesn’t stop Maddie from laughing at me and burying her face into my coat. But it’s cool. One day she’ll figure out that I mean everything I say to her. And one day I’ll be able to say everything I want to say to her. I just hope it’ll be before we ring in the new year.
Twenty-Nine
Maddie
FAIRLY DARK ALE OF NEW YORK
BEX: Well? Did you rock the boat last night or what?
ME: I would NEVER tell you or anyone else if we did it against a metal gate on the upper deck. Or that it was super-hot and surprisingly romantic. Because everyone involved is way too classy for that kind of thing.
BEX: YOLO!!! See?!?! It pays to take your big sister’s advice every now and then. You at home?
ME: At his place, actually.
BEX: Wow. Sounds serious.
ME: It’s not. It’s just, you know. For now. But his apartment is incredible, and these sheets are amazing.
BEX: Are you texting me while you’re in bed with him? If so, your relationship is progressing a little too rapidly IMHOP.
ME: It’s IMHO. He left a note that he went out to pick up breakfast. He’s being so sweet. It’s deeply annoying.
BEX: Yeah, that sucks. Josh and I spent the night in Mel’s guest room with the baby and the life-size glow in the dark nativity scene and the roast chicken farts. But your thing sounds way more annoying.
ME: Oh shit. I think he’s back. We didn’t do it on the ferry, so never discuss this with anyone ever again, including me! xo
BEX: Roger that. Josh is dropping Piper off at her friend’s house, so obviously I WON’T be reading her journals while tidying up her room now. xo
I stretch and slide out of Declan’s bed, yawning. So much for my “No Sleepovers” rule. According to my phone, it is almost eleven, and I don’t think I’ve slept in this late since I was a teenager. But I only got about five hours sleep. My lips feel swollen, the skin all over my body is pink from being thoroughly exfoliated by holiday scruff, and let’s just say that I will not be riding a bike today because things are a little tender down there. But happy. Deliriously, terrifyingly happy.
There’s a large gray men’s T-shirt laid out on top of the covers of my side of the bed, along with a pair of boxer briefs and wool socks. There’s a Post-it note on the boxer briefs that says previously unworn. As if I wouldn’t slip on a pair of Declan Cannavale’s previously worn undies after becoming so intimate with the part of his body that he wears them on. So thoughtful. So annoying.
So wrong?
I shake that concept off, slip into his clothes, and pad into the kitchen, where Declan’s plating our take-out breakfast and placing it on bed trays. I’ve never been with a guy who owned a bed tray before. Much less two of them.
That’s when I realize he probably lived here with Hannah and that she’s probably the one who bought them. I wonder how many other women he’s made breakfast in bed for. I inhale the most tantalizing coffee aroma and wonder how it’s possible that the man I’ve bought coffee for every weekday morning as per his request can make coffee himself at home.
When he sees