“She celebrates Christmas.” I pause for her audible sigh of relief. “I just have to see about her schedule. She works as much as I do. Almost exactly as much, actually…”
“Is she there with you now?”
“No. No, she’s at her place. She took her niece shopping today.”
Fuck you, brain.
I toss the fork back into the drawer because this conversation is all the torture and punishment I need.
“Ohhhh... She’s good with kids! I like the sound of that.”
“Ma.”
“You know I always said you’d make a good father.”
“It is definitely too soon to be thinking about that.”
“I’ve been thinking about it ever since Eddie was born. The way you looked after him. Six years old and always looking out for the new baby. How much longer are you going to make me wait to become a grandmother? I’m not exactly getting any younger over here.”
“You already have grandkids.”
“I won’t be happy until all of my babies are blessed with babies of their own—you know that.”
“How is Eddie doing, anyway? I haven’t heard from him in a while.”
Thank God for Eddie. I can always bring him up when I need to shift the topic of conversation from what’s missing in my life to the dumpster fire that is his love life. Take that, youngest son.
“Eddie’s doing great, it sounds like.”
“He is?”
Fuck you, Eddie.
“Sounds like he’s finally met a nice girl, but he won’t give me any details either.”
“Ahh. Sounds about right.”
“Don’t try to change the subject, Mr. Esquire. You bring this girlfriend of yours—what did you say her name was?”
“I didn’t. It’s Maddie.” Fuck you, Christmas.
“Maddie! Now that’s a charming name. She sounds Irish—love her already.”
“Oh, she’s a charmer, all right. But I’m not sure if she’s got any Irish in her.” I’d like to put some Irish-Italian in her though.
“Not sure? How could you not know something like that?” She sounds genuinely hurt that I’m not actively seeking out Irish-American women who are exactly like her.
“We’ve just had a lot of other things to talk about.” Like work. And how much she hates working for me. And how much she despises me as a person.
“Well, I can’t wait to meet her. Hang on.” I can hear my dad’s deep, muffled voice in the background. “It’s Declan!” she yells out. “He’s got a new girlfriend named Maddie! He’s bringing her to the dinner. What? Turn down the TV I can’t hear you! Stop yelling at me! Ugh—that man. Driving me nuts.”
“I’ll let you go if you need to—”
“Don’t you hang up on me, Mister Bigshot. You’ll bring Maddie on Christmas Eve. And you’ll take her to Boston for the O’Sullivan gathering on the 22nd. You got the invitation.”
I deleted the invitation.
“I don’t think they invited me...”
“I saw they cc’d you, so don’t try to get out of it. You’re going. Granny and Grandad can’t come for Christmas because of his foot. He has to keep it elevated as much as possible, so they can’t travel now. Hopefully, by the wedding.”
“Uh-huh.”
“God knows I’d fly to Boston in a heartbeat, but I gotta stick around here every damn day to make sure your father doesn’t accidentally burn the house down. Someone from my family’s gotta be there, and you’re the closest. They’ll be so happy to see you with someone new.”
“It only takes ten minutes longer to fly there from Cleveland. Why can’t Aiden go?”
“Aiden’s got kids.”
“Right. And he can’t afford to get alcohol poisoning from hanging out with the Irish side for a few hours.”
“It’s the truth.”
“I can’t just fly to Boston for a cocktail party.”
“Oh yes, you can. You went for that meeting once—you think I don’t remember?”
“That was for work.”
“Uh-huh. I see how it is. Enh. It’s fine. They’ll both be dead soon anyway, so what’s the point of spending time with them? They’re just your mother’s parents. My entire side of the family will be dead soon, probably from their livers giving out, so who gives a flyin’ whatever, right?”
“Ma. I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t go to that. But I will bring her to Christmas Eve, all right? I promise.”
She sighs. “Okay.” She never really expected me to go to Boston. I know that tactic. She knows I know that tactic. “That’s my good boy. And you’ll bring her to…”
“Yeah, I’ll bring her.”
“I’ll tell them. You don’t have to—I’ll tell everyone for you.”
“Thanks, Ma. I appreciate it.”
“Anything for my sweet boy…Hang on—what?!” My mother never pulls the phone away from her mouth when she yells at my dad. Ever. “It’s in the cupboard! Not that one—the other one! Yeah it is—behind the thing! Don’t you move my things around! Tony! Tony?! That man, I swear. I just want you to marry a nice woman who’s as tolerant as I am, Dec. Christ on a cracker. I’ll call you back.”
“I actually have to call Maddie now, so…”
“Awww, you do that. I’m so excited to see you—I love you, my sweet, sweet boy.”
“Love you.”
Conversation over.
Now what?
Ma always said I’d catch my death from the cold if I went outside barefoot… I could try that. I could ask one of the women I was “gallivantin’ around town” with earlier this year if they want to pretend to be named Maddie for a few nights, but I haven’t seen any of them for a couple of months, and who needs that conversation?
Or I could just wait until I tell Cooper what I need her to assist me with over the holidays and wait for her to kill me slowly with eye rolls and sarcasm.
For the first time in two months, I don’t reach for my phone to text her when it seems like nothing else can save me.
But it seems that nothing—not even a phone call with my mother—can stop me from wondering if Maddie Cooper is naked right now.
Fuck my cold, dead heart.
Six
Maddie
HERE COMES THE SANTA CLAUSE
It turns out the only thing more aggravating than dealing with a gorgeous, moody, demanding boss
