“Are you Jewish?”
“No.”
“Buddhist?”
“No.”
“Wiccan?”
“Please don’t go through every religion.” I sigh. “Like everyone in Boston, I’m a lapsed Catholic.”
“A lapsed Catholic who doesn’t do Christmas?”
“What about this are you having trouble understanding?”
She stares at me incredulously. “Everyone does Christmas.”
“Not me.”
“Well, you do this year.”
My fists clench tighter and I feel something like fear flip my stomach into somersaults. I can’t go to that party, and not just because I can’t stand to be around that much holiday cheer without curling into the fetal position.
I can’t see Parker.
Feeling pressured, I lash out like a feral cat — a method I’ve used for years, whenever I’m feeling cornered. My voice drops to a scathing whisper. “Listen, princess, I don’t know if it’s a lack of brain cells keeping you from hearing me…” I feel Nate tense at my back; I keep going anyway. “…or just plain entitled ignorance, but I’m not going to your fucking party. Comprende?”
Instead of backing off, I see something flicker in Phoebe’s eyes. It looks a lot like determination. She strides closer on those damn skyscraper heels, getting right up in my face, and glares down at me.
“I don’t know what happened to make you so miserable, I don’t know who hurt you so bad you think you have to lash out at everyone who wants to be your friend… frankly, I don’t care. You want to treat me like gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe? Fine. Either way, you’re stuck with me. I’m sticking. Deal with it.”
My mouth drops open to retort, but a growling male voice intercedes before I can.
“What’s going on? You okay, babe?” Luca steps into the ring of women surrounding me and inserts himself by my side. I hear appreciative feminine sounds from Shelby, Chrissy, and Lila as they take him in.
“That’s Blaze Buchanan,” Shelby whisper-yells.
“We know, dufus,” Chrissy fires back.
Luca stares from me to Phoebe and back again. “Babe?”
I sigh. “I’m fine. Just a little misunderstanding.”
“No misunderstanding,” Phoebe clips. “I was just inviting Zoe here to my Christmas party. She was trying to squirm her way out of it.”
Luca’s mouth twitches. “Sounds about right.”
“You’re invited too, of course,” she adds. “Though I think your presence at the party may incite riots among my friends.” She gestures at the cluster of women flanking her sides.
Luca’s eyes cut around the circle and lock on Knox. They exchange silent nods — bro-code for hey, man, good to see you — before Luca continues his sweep of the group. His gaze flickers past Gemma, Chrissy, and Shelby, then seems to freeze on Lila with particular interest.
To my surprise, she’s not looking at her phone. Gone is her scowl.
Her wide brown eyes are locked on Luca with one hundred percent focus. And he’s looking back at her with an intensity I’ve rarely seen from him — taking in her long, reddish blonde hair, her curvy figure, her delicate features.
“You going to be at this party?” Luca asks her in a low voice.
“Y-yes,” she stutters, before getting her tone of careful nonchalance under control. “I mean, I was planning on it. Maybe.”
Luca’s grin is wicked. “Great. We’ll be there.”
“Luke!” I hiss, outraged. I try to punch him in the side but his large hand engulfs mine just before I make contact with his ribs.
“Address?” he asks Phoebe, ignoring my attempts to escape his grip and murder him with my bare hands.
Phoebe is grinning. “112 Commonwealth Avenue, in Back Bay. It’s a brownstone with a mammoth wreath on the front door — you can’t miss it. Starts at seven! Ugly Christmas sweaters are encouraged, but not required.”
“Don’t wait up,” I say. “We’re not coming.”
Luca is still looking at Lila. “Seven. Sounds good.”
“Great!” Phoebe exclaims.
“Seriously, we won’t be there,” I insist.
Phoebe laughs. “See you tomorrow, Tink!”
“Don’t count on it!” I call as she turns and walks away, her friends all around her.
“Don’t worry,” Gemma calls back over one shoulder. “I’ve got an extra Santa hat you can borrow, if you don’t have one.”
I screech.
How the hell did that just happen?
11
The Party
“I literally hate your guts.”
“Tell me something I don’t know.”
“If I was strong enough, I’d push you into oncoming traffic.”
“Awww, babe, that’s so sweet.”
“Really, Luke, this is over the top. Even for you.”
He shrugs and continues pulling me down Comm Ave. Every tree on the boulevard is covered in white Christmas lights. Despite the cold, there are more than a few people out walking — taking in the sights, enjoying the decorations. Our breath puffs in the air in front of us and I shiver inside my thin peacoat, as much from nerves as the cold. When Luca throws an arm around my shoulders, sharing his warmth, I grudgingly decide not to shake him off. It’s too hard to stay mad at him.
“We’d barely stopped fighting about the last macho-man, out-of-control shenanigans you pulled on me. Then you have to go and do it all over again.”
“You know what they say, babe.” He grins. “Leopard, spots, all that jazz.”
“I don’t know why I’m still your friend.”
“Yeah, you do. Now, tell me about Lancaster.”
I sigh. “Found a weird email from our darling CEO to a guy named Linus, his Head of Security, talking about some kind of clean up at the Lynn Factory.” I drop my voice lower, knowing I’m about to start yet another disagreement. “So, I headed over there to check it out on Wednesday afternoon, just to see if there was anything strange going on.”
“What the fuck were you thinking, going there alone?” Luca explodes, stopping mid-stride. “Everyone knows Lancaster is a shithead. You find evidence he may be even more of a shithead than we originally believed, and you decide to go traipsing through his factory by yourself.” He shakes his head. “You should’ve called me, babe.”
“I wasn’t speaking to you,” I remind him.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t say we had to sit down over tea and discuss our feelings. I said I would’ve come with you, provided a little muscle if you got into trouble.”
“I didn’t.” My lips twitch at his words. “But I did find something weird at the factory. It looked like someone had been inside, messing with the pipes. Problem is, I wouldn’t know a cooling system from a carburetor, so I sure as shit don’t know why Lancaster would go to all the trouble of replacing pipes in a factory he just closed and is scheduled to knock down in a few months.”
“Well, babe, for starters, carburetors are in cars, and no one even uses them anymore—”
“Luca. Save the mechanical lecture for another day.” I hold his gaze. “I think there’s something going on with the plant closing. Something more than just budget cuts and screwing workers out of pensions. Something… bigger.”
His brow wrinkles. “I’ll go take a look, when I get a chance. You don’t go back there alone, you hear me?”
“I hear you, you big softie.” I punch him lightly on the arm. “Let’s go. We’re already late for this damn thing.”
“It might not be so bad,” he says. “Hell, if that redhead is there, I’m thinking my night may actually be excellent.”
“Do you ever think about anything but sex?”
He shrugs. “Maybe when I’m unconscious.”
“I still don’t know how I let you talk me into this,” I mutter darkly as we pass a row of wreath-covered brownstones. We’ll be at Phoebe’s any minute.
“Babe, I know this time of year is tough for you. But you don’t e
ver run from a fight. You don’t let shit scare you.” Luca glances at me. “I’m tired of watching you disappear every December. I’m tired of seeing that sad look in your eyes.”
“You think it’s easy for me, Luke? You think I’m not tired of it, year after year?” I ask, voice breaking a little. “You think it’s as simple as just throwing on a Christmas sweater, singing some carols, and embracing the holiday spirit?”
“I never said it was gonna be easy. Nothing good in life ever comes easy — you know that better than anyone. But you keep closing yourself off from everything, you’re gonna wind up as alone as the day we first met.”
“Since when are you Mr. Well-Adjusted, Luke?” I shake my head. “I don’t see you in any long-term, healthy relationships. You don’t have any family. You can count all your friends on one fucking hand.”
“Maybe I’m ready for something different.” He stops walking and looks down at me. “Change is scary. I get that. But you’re not required to be the same person you were ten years ago, ten weeks ago, ten days ago. Hell, you don’t even have to be the person you were ten minutes ago. You’re free to be whoever the hell you want, Zoe Bloom.” His mouth curves. “If that person happens to be a bitchy, misanthropic, Christmas-hating curmudgeon, so be it. I’ll still be here. But if you want to be someone different — someone who let’s herself laugh, and have fun, and go sailing in the goddamned icy tundra we call home with some idiot who probably spends too long styling his hair… that’s okay too.”
“Is this — you dragging me here tonight — about Parker?” My tone has surpassed incredulity and gone straight to stunned disbelief. “You nearly killed the guy. Now you want me to see him again?”
Luca’s eyes narrow. “It’s not about what I want. It’s about what you want, babe.”
I pause. “How do you know I want him?”
“Ten years I’ve known you, we’ve never gone more than a day without checking in.” His eyes darken a bit. “I ruin your date with the rich boy, and you freeze me out for an entire week. Not rocket science, babe.”
I press my lips together, trying to come up with a retort. Nothing comes to mind.
Luca’s big hand lands on my shoulder and squeezes. “I’m not saying I know what’s best for you, or that he’s the right guy, or even that I approve of the idiot. All I’m saying is, you’re not required to suffer forever. Your parents would want you to be happy, Zoe. You have to know that.”
My eyes are stinging. I tell myself it’s from the cold. “I had no idea there was such a mushy, emotional girl hiding beneath that badass exterior, Luca. You want me to run to that convenience store we passed a few blocks back? Grab you a box of maxi-pads and a few chocolate bars?”
He grins. “Come on, you priss. We’re already late.”
I make a growly sound at the back of my throat and follow him down the street. A few minutes later, we come to a stop outside a beautiful brownstone, every light shining like a beacon, the sound of laughter and music pouring out onto the street.
“Think we’re here.” Luca looks over at me. “You ready?”
“As I’ll ever be.”
He gives me his trademark you-can-do-this nod as we walk up the stairs and ring the bell. The door opens almost instantly.
“You’re here!” Phoebe yells at the top of her lungs. She’s wearing what must be the singularly most unattractive sweater on the planet — garish red with a horrific sequined snowman on the front. There’s a glass of what looks like eggnog in one hand and the tiniest dog I’ve ever seen in my life tucked under her other arm. My eyes widen as the ball of white fur leaps from her grip onto the hardwood floor and begins to bark at us like we’re about to rob the place armed with AK-47s.
“Boo!” Phoebe scolds. “Be nice.”
“Is it a cat or a dog?” Luca mutters under his breath.
“Not entirely convinced it isn’t a Furby, back from the ‘90s to kill us,” I murmur back.
“Come in, come in!” Phoebe reaches out, hooks her arm through mine, and yanks me inside. Luca follows close behind, closing the door with a gentle click. Boo trails after us, running dizzying circles around our feet. He’s got a bedazzled red collar around his tiny neck, appliqué jingle bells chiming every time he moves.
“Everyone’s in the living room, but the liquor is in the kitchen.” Phoebe glances at me. “What’s your poison? We’ve got spiked eggnog, rum punch, champagne, and whiskey.”
I grimace. “Whiskey. Definitely whiskey.”
“My kind of girl.” Phoebe grins. “Knew I liked you.”
“Eggnog for me,” Luca chimes in.
I raise my brows. “Really?”
“What?” He shrugs. “Just because you’re a scrooge, doesn’t mean I have to be. I happen to like Christmas.”
Phoebe laughs. “Knew I liked him, too.”
I examine the space as we make our way toward the kitchen, taking note of the expensive art on the walls and the gorgeous furnishings. The whole place looks straight out of a Restoration Hardware store, and I’ve never seen so many Christmas decorations in my life. Mistletoe hangs in every doorway, holly boughs wind up the stair bannister, frosted pine cones sit in baskets scattered on every table.
Once we’ve got our drinks, we follow Phoebe into the massive, high-ceilinged living room, where the party is in full swing. Despite what the noise from the street led me to believe, there aren’t all that many people inside. Maybe fifty, at the most, eating from a makeshift buffet by the window, admiring the towering Christmas tree on the far wall, clustered on couches making small talk.
My eyes sweep the crowd, searching for him. Every corner, every face, every inch of the room. And…
He’s not here.
I must make a tiny sound of disappointment, because Luca leans his shoulder lightly against mine, lending me his strength.
“The redhead isn’t here either,” he grumbles.
“And there it is, ladies and gents! His true motivation for dragging me to this…” I smirk. “You are such a bullshit artist, Luca Buchanan.”
“Takes one to know one,” he counters.
I spot Gemma — there’s a tall, blond man by her side, looking down at her with adoration. Chrissy and a man I assume is her husband are busy chasing a towheaded toddler and a squirming baby around the room. Shelby is standing alone, sipping rum punch at an alarming pace and picking out songs for the Christmas playlist blaring from the speakers. Nate is standing by the door with a trio of badass, mega-hot macho men.
There are a few dozen people I don’t know — WestTech employees, most likely — camped out on the couches… including, to my great delight, the Three Stooges from the IT Department.
“Moe! Larry! Curly!” I laugh and wave. “You’re here!”
“Not her,” Moe moans. “Anyone but her.”
Curly and Larry both glare at me.
“You know them?” Phoebe asks quizzically.
“It’s a long story,” I say, laughing.
Before she can request further clarification, I hear Gemma’s voice call out from the other side of the room.
“Hey, Zoe! Come meet Chase!”
“And Mark!” I hear Chrissy call from somewhere down on the carpet. “Also the kids, if we can get them to stop running around like trolls.”
“And my invisible husband, who promised he’d be here two hours ago.” Shelby takes another swig of punch and gestures to the empty chair beside her. “Isn’t he handsome?”
“Very,” I call back dryly, smiling despite myself.
“Babe, I’m gonna go say hello to Knox, Theo, and the rest of the boys. You good?” Luca asks quietly.
I force myself to smile. “I’m good. I think.”
“Oh, she’s fine.” Phoebe plants both hands on Luca’s shoulders and gives him a push. “Off with you.”
And then, before I can say another word, I’m thrust full-force into the party madness.
* * *
“So, Zoe, what’s the deal with you and Bl
aze?” Chrissy asks, glancing over at the men. After a short introduction, Chase and Mark abandoned us to join them. That was almost a half hour ago — I’m surprised I’ve lasted this long, buffeted on all sides by girl talk.
“Yeah, are you guys together?” Gemma chimes in. “He keeps an eye on you, that much is obvious. And he’s mega hot.”
“I would not mind getting with that.” Shelby nods appreciatively. “Not a damn bit.”
“You’re married,” Phoebe reminds her.
“Theoretically.” Shelby shrugs. “But the only thing that’s been up close and personal with my lady business in the past five years is a pair of Spanx.”
Phoebe and Gemma bust out laughing.
“Wait!” Chrissy interjects. “No tangents. The kids are finally asleep; I have maybe a thirty-minute window before one of them starts screaming again. I want to hear Zoe’s answer about whether she’s getting any from the sexy redheaded fighter.”
“No,” I say, shaking my head adamantly. I go to take another sip of my whiskey and find my glass is empty. Damn. “We’re friends. Family, practically. We look out for each other, that’s all.”
“I know someone who’ll be happy to hear that.” Shelby grins. “Speaking of Lila, where is she?”
“God only knows what that girl does with her time.” Chrissy snorts. “Does she even work? Or does she just professionally juggle boyfriends?”
“Hey! No tangents! We’ll never get the truth out of Zoe if we keep getting distracted.” Phoebe swings her head to me. “So, are you dating anyone?”
I rattle the ice in my glass. “I really need more whiskey if I’m going to continue this conversation.”
“I need a refill too,” Gemma says, nabbing the glass from my hand. “I’ll grab you one while I’m in there.”
“Thanks,” I murmur.
She winks and walks away.
“So?” Phoebe persists. “Boyfriend? Fuck buddy? Husband? Crush?”
You mean, including your brother or…?
I shake my head, fighting the blush threatening to stain my cheeks. “No. None of the above.”
“Then why are you blushing?”
“I’m not,” I lie.
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