“Well, I just want to travel in the manner to which I have grown accustomed.”
“Uh-huh.”
Okay, so I haven’t been in a stretch limo since prom, and I wanted to make my boss pay for one. I regret nothing. In particular, I do not regret ordering the white stretch limo with neon pink interior strip lighting and complimentary bottle of mediocre champagne because I knew how much he’d hate it. And he does! But it’s not stopping him from knocking back the bubbly.
I’m sitting as far away from him as possible, in a seat that faces the bar and the small monitor. The TV screen currently features A Christmas Story. It’s one of my favorite holiday movies, and it offers a very timely reminder of why I should never lick a frozen pole. Especially when it’s attached to my boss.
He hasn’t said a word to me since we climbed inside this monstrosity fifteen long minutes ago. He’s just been typing on his laptop and occasionally glancing up at me to make sure that I’m as uncomfortable as he clearly wants me to be. But I’m not uncomfortable. I’m having a ring-a-ling-a-ding-dong-ding blast of a limo ride, and I’m not going to let him ruin it for me just because he’s being a boring naughty-list-sack-of-coal.
“Aren’t you even a little bit happy to be home?” I ask while staring at the TV monitor.
“I am a little bit happy to be home. Can’t you tell?”
I turn to look at him and find him exactly as stone-faced as he was before.
“I wonder if your family is excited to see you. Do they all hate you too?”
“The word ‘too’ would imply that someone else hates me, Cooper. No one hates me. I mean, that old lady who was crossing the street that time hated me, but that was a misunderstanding. And that guy who threw his coffee at my car hated me, but he was just being a dick.”
“Who? What are you talking about?”
“Irrelevant. In general, and in all ways that matter, I’m a nonstop fucking delight.”
I purse my lips and turn my attention back to Ralphie and his family.
“You don’t hate me, Coop. You hate how much you like me. Big difference.”
“Not really.”
“You’ll see.”
I shake my head, looking out the window in front of me, because I can’t even with him right now. “So tell me about them.”
“Who?”
“Your family. The people I will be meeting and lying to tomorrow.”
“Right. We need to get our backstory straight.” I can hear him grinning. “The most believable lies are always the ones that are mostly true. Which is why I think we should just say it was love at first sight. As soon as you met me.”
Eye roll.
“I was professional. I resisted you for a solid week. But you pursued me in subtle yet irresistible ways, and I succumbed. I discussed and cleared the relationship with Shapiro and HR. We behave ourselves at the office, and very few of our co-workers know about your obsession with me. Simple. Believable. Almost true.”
“Except the part about all of it.”
“Except the parts that haven’t happened yet.”
Exaggerated eye roll.
I turn to him and say, “I don’t feel very comfortable telling a lie of such magnitude.”
“Okay, then. If you want to get even closer to the truth…” He looks away, shifting around in his seat, before continuing. “We can just say that I had a crush on you from even before the first time I saw you. It started when you were still working for Artie. When I’d call to talk to him. For a little while, the best part of my day was chatting with you on the phone for about thirty seconds. And now, the only bad parts of my day are when you aren’t around. Or not responding to my texts.”
Stunned silence.
I wait for him to burst out laughing, give me a sly, toothy grin—something. But he doesn’t. Silence fills the gaudy, cavernous space around us, and it sounds something like the truth, only it’s not any truth that I recognize as ours.
“Would that be easier for you to sell, Maddie?” He’s staring down at his hands, and I wish I could read minds. I wish I could see into the future and know what would happen if I answered him with my lips and hands, because right now my whole body wants to tell him something that he deserves to know. Even if my own brain isn’t willing to acknowledge it.
“Umm…”
“Would it?” He finally looks up at me.
I shake my head because the lump in my throat isn’t going anywhere.
“Didn’t think so,” he says, shrugging it off like it’s no big deal. “We’ll figure something out when the time comes, I guess.” He holds his empty glass out toward me.
I reach over to pour the champagne, taking in a shaky breath and clearing my throat. “You still haven’t actually told me about your family.”
“Right. We’ll be having dinner at my parents’ house. Mary Margaret and Tony Cannavale. They still live in the house I grew up in. My mom’s from Boston. My dad grew up here. His mother—my nonna—is from Italy. She’ll be there tomorrow. She’s always here for the holidays. She’ll hate you, but she hates everyone, so don’t take it personally.”
“Does she hate you?”
“Nobody hates me, Cooper, I told you. But she isn’t nice to me. She isn’t nice to anyone. All my brothers and my sister will be there, and their families. Aiden, Brady, Casey, and Eddie. Casey’s the girl. Her daughter Penelope is my favorite person on the planet—try to contain your jealousy. Eddie’s my baby brother.”
“Aww.” I’m picturing some adolescent boy around the same age as Piper. “How old is he?”
“Twenty-six,” he deadpans. “He’s an ugly little fucker and not at all charming—you won’t like him. Women never like him,” he says, trying not to smile
