“Feeling shy this morning?” she coos. And then she spots the charger on my dresser and plugs it in for me without my asking.
“I’m feeling a number of things at the moment. Shy isn’t one of them.”
She meets my gaze through the reflection in the mirror above the dresser, sucking in her breath. She doesn’t say a thing.
So that’s how it’s gonna be.
I run both hands through my hair and go back to the bathroom to turn off the radio and towel myself off. Yeah, I made sure she was watching me in the mirror when I did it. No, I’m not expecting her to join me in here. Yes, we need to get into holiday family mode. Also yes, I have every intention of jingling her bells again later tonight.
When I stroll back out to get dressed, I’ve got a bath towel wrapped around my waist and Maddie’s leaning against the dresser. She’s fidgeting, and I’m glad. When she sees me, her gaze sweeps down the length of me, and she reaches back to steady herself. I’m really fucking pleased about it because I was beginning to think she’d become immune to me.
I proceed to get dressed. I had already laid my clothes out on the bed. I can feel her eyes on me, and I can feel how nervous she is right now.
“So, your whole family knows I’m coming, yes?”
“Yes. They’re looking forward to meeting you. You don’t have to be nervous.”
“Believe it or not, I’m always a little nervous when I meet my boyfriends’ families for the first time.”
It is totally irrational, how I am seized with jealousy at the notion of her meeting the families of her other boyfriends. Of her “real” boyfriends.
“Exactly how many boyfriends’ families have you met, exactly?”
“Only five. And, I mean, two of those boyfriends were from high school, so I really only met them because we didn’t have our drivers licenses yet and needed a ride.”
“And the other three? They were serious?”
“No.” She looks down at the floor. “I wouldn’t categorize them as serious.”
“Then why’d you meet their families?”
She shrugs. “I think they wanted to impress their parents, to be honest.” She laughs. “They were kind of deadbeats. I had a good job. Y’know. I’m sure their parents would have preferred they got better jobs, but at least I won them a few points.”
“I get that,” I deadpan. “I hope mine finally get off my back for not becoming a surgeon.”
She smiles, shaking her head. “This is so crazy.”
“What is?”
“Me pretending to be your girlfriend.” She watches me for a response.
I finish buttoning up my shirt. “Why?”
She shrugs again. She seems so vulnerable all of a sudden, and it’s killing me just a little. “Am I dressed okay? I forgot to ask if it’s going to be casual or formal, or…”
I walk over to her, tilt her chin up, and kiss her, just once, lightly on the mouth. As soon as I do, her hands go to my waist and she rests her forehead against my chest. She isn’t wearing heels, for once, and she seems a lot smaller today. I kiss the top of her head and wrap my arms around her shoulders. “I had a great time last night.”
“Me too.”
“I want to do that again.”
She laughs. “Which part?”
“Definitely the beginning part. And the thing on the sofa. And the part where I made you come just from kissing your—”
“Okay, okay. Let’s not get too detailed right before going to your family thing.”
She gives me a little pat on the ass, and I can tell she isn’t nervous anymore.
“It’s casual,” I tell her. “But I’d advise against wearing tight jeans.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ll be eating. A lot.”
“These aren’t all that tight,” she says, sticking her fingers between the waist of her jeans and her belly. “There’s a little room to grow.”
“You’re gonna need a lot more room than that. Did you bring sweatpants? A tracksuit?”
She scoffs. “You’re wearing regular pants.”
“These are one size up, can’t you tell? I’m wearing a belt, which I will be loosening throughout the day. Put on a stretchy dress or something.”
“I don’t want to wear a dress if everyone else is casual.”
This is such a relationship-y conversation, and it’s making me really happy again. “Okay. Wear whatever you feel comfortable in. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.” I give her hips a little squeeze before going back over to the bed to finish getting ready.
“Advice noted, thanks. I ordered a cab to pick us up in an hour. You didn’t eat breakfast, did you?”
“No. Did you?”
“Yeah. I ordered room service. Is that okay?”
“You could have ordered it in here. With me.”
She twists her lips to the side. “It didn’t seem like a good idea.”
“As opposed to what we did last night?” I raise my eyebrows at her and then waggle them.
She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I don’t recall a discussion or detailed written description of the extent of this discreet, temporary simulated consensual romantic relationship.”
I put my jacket on and cross my arms in front of my chest too. “Let’s negotiate right now. Shared meals in private—in bed or out of it—are on the table.”
“Agreed. Private serenading of Christmas carols—on the table.”
“Enh. I’ve heard you sing, and I’m going to have to pass.”
“Screw you.”
“Absolutely. On the table… Under the table…”
Eye roll. “Naked dance parties—on the table.”
“Agreed.”
“Christmas presents are off the table.”
“Unacceptable.”
“It’s too much pressure. There will be no exchanging of Christmas gifts.”
“Fine.”
“Sleepovers are off the table.”
“Disagree. Convince me otherwise.”
She starts to say something and then snaps her mouth shut. Her eyes are a little watery, and she looks so vulnerable again. And I’m falling for her again, just a little.
“I just don’t think we should, Declan. You know why.”
I do. I know why, and I want her in my bed all night anyway. But I don’t want her to feel vulnerable. “Yeah. Agreed.”
There’s a flash of something in her eyes, and it may be disappointment. But she nods once and sighs. “Great. Guess that covers everything, right? Probably not necessary to mention, however—butt stuff—off the table.”
I hold a hand up to protest.
“Let’s just get through Christmas Eve dinner and revisit this later.”
I sigh and lower my hand. “Agreed.”
“So how many other girlfriends have you introduced to your family?” she asks with a sing-song voice. So innocent. So unaware.
And I’m finally going to have to make her aware of the thing that I haven’t wanted to talk about, with her or anyone else.
“Just one,” I tell her. “Just one.”
Chapter Twenty
DECLAN: Where are you?
DECLAN: Maddie. Seriously. Are you in your room? Open the door.
DECLAN: You can’t just leave like that. Are you still coming to my parents’ house or not?
MADDIE: Calm down. I’m in the lobby gift shop.
DECLAN: Why?
MADDIE: Because I need to bring a gift for your parents.
DECLAN: They won’t expect one. Trust me. You don’t have to do that.
MADDIE: I need to bring something for your parents.
MADDIE: And I need to be alone so I can process this. I can’t believe you dropped this bomb on me right before I meet everyone.
DECLAN: My dad taught all of us to swim by dropping us into a pool. But he was always right there to make sure we didn’t drown. I’m here if you want to talk. But I’ve known about it for half a year, and being alone all that
time hasn’t helped me to process it. At all.
MADDIE: Declan. I’m really sorry that your significant ex is marrying your brother. I’m sad for you. I don’t want to make this all about me. BUT YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME ABOUT THIS WHEN YOU ASKED ME TO COME WITH YOU AND YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME THEY’D BE THERE TODAY WTF IS WRONG WITH YOU???!!!
MADDIE: Sorry for text-yelling. This is why I didn’t want to be in the same room with you.
DECLAN: I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to think it would be a shitty stressful occasion. I mean, all family holiday dinners are, but I didn’t want you to worry about it.
MADDIE: Thanks for dropping me in the deep end of the pool with no floaties, boss.
DECLAN: Anytime, Cooper. Always looking for fresh new ways to infuriate you.
MADDIE: Okay, I know it’s dumb to ask you this in a text. But I don’t think I can handle seeing your face right now… Are you still in love with her? With Hannah?
DECLAN: No. I’m not, Maddie. We were off and on for the last few years. I got her to move out to New York with me a year and a half ago. She broke up with me after last Christmas and moved home because I didn’t spend enough time with her.
MADDIE: When was the last time you talked to her or your brother?
DECLAN: Haven’t talked to Brady since he called to tell me they were engaged. Around half a year ago. Haven’t talked to her since I found out.
MADDIE: Did she try to get in touch with you?
DECLAN: Yes.
MADDIE: Declan! So you’re still mad at both of them? Are you going to make a scene?
DECLAN: I don’t make scenes, Cooper. I solve problems. Sometimes I solve problems by avoiding them. I know this may shock you, but I’m not perfect. And I’m not as mad about anything when I’m with you. Which is why I wanted you around. Sorry if that was selfish of me.
DECLAN: Anything else?
MADDIE:
DECLAN: I’m coming downstairs to kiss you now.
Twenty-One
Declan
HAVE A JOLLY CANNAVALE CHRISTMAS
“You grew up in this house?” Maddie asks as the cab drives off and we walk, hand-in-hand, up the long driveway.
They’ve got the usual Christmas lights up. Clear white around the roof because my nonna insists colored lights are ostentatious. Colored lights around the covered porch because my ma thinks white lights are boring. It doesn’t look like Aiden and Brady are here yet, so I breathe easier. “Yeah. They don’t need a house this big anymore, but my dad refuses to move.”
“Stubborn?”
“Secretly sentimental, I think.”
I can feel her soft gaze on me as I stare up at the house.
She squeezes my hand, reassuring me when I’m the one who should be reassuring her. I’m an asshole for not telling her about Brady and Hannah sooner, but I didn’t want her to come because she felt sorry for me. I just wanted her to be here. With me.
“It’s a nice house,” she says. “Seems like a nice, quiet neighborhood.”
“Yeah, well. We’ll see how you feel about that when you’re inside with my family.”
She guffaws. “You clearly have never been to Christmas dinner with my extended family on Staten Island. Or dinner with my family on any night, anywhere.”
I really want that. I want to have dinner with her family on Staten Island or anywhere. But I don’t think that’s on the table.
We walk up the steps of the front porch and stand in front of the door. I can hear Dean Martin blaring from the speakers in the living room—the only acceptable singer of Christmas songs in the Cannavale house because he was an Italian-American from Ohio. I can hear my ma yelling at my dad about something. I look down at Maddie, who’s straightening her coat and fidgeting with her gift bags. “They aren’t here yet. You ready?”
“Yep. Let’s do this.”
I ring the doorbell. I have a key, but I’m hoping my ma will stop yelling if she knows we’re out here.
“It’s on the top shelf!” she bellows. “Tony! No—the middle top shelf!”
No such luck.
The door flies open, and I already know from the look on her beautiful face that they somehow found out that I was in town yesterday and didn’t tell them. Fuck. And now I just have to wait for someone to bring it up.
“Awww, there’s my beautiful boy” is what she says though. “And who’s this beautiful lady? Come in, get inside! It’s colder than your nonna’s icy black heart out there.” She ushers us in, closing the door behind us while yelling at my dad. “Casey and them are in the family room watching a movie. Eddie’s here, Nonna’s in the kitchen of course, but no one else yet.” She clears her throat.
The living and dining room are decorated exactly like they are every year. I can see the Rudolph ornament I made when I was seven hanging on the fake white tree. My old stocking is hanging from the mantle, in between Casey’s and Eddie’s as always, and it isn’t filled with coal. I take a deep breath because I’m home, and I’m actually happy about it. But I feel more at home now than I have in years, and I wasn’t expecting that. I finally let go of Maddie’s hand to hug Ma. And then I watch these two women hug each other, and it’s pretty great. I’m way too much of a badass to tear up, but if I were ever going to tear up, it would be right this second.
The air in the house isn’t smoky exactly, but it’s thick with the aroma of several gallons of boiling hot cooking oil, seven kinds of seafood, tomatoes, basil, parmesan cheese, and four decades worth of unspoken cultural and personal tension between my Irish-American Ma and Nonna. But in a good way. And every now and then you get a whiff of all the sugary deep-fried dough as a reminder of the sweeter things to come if you can survive dinner and make it to dessert.
Tonight, I need to not only make it to dessert but back to the hotel and Maddie Cooper’s delicious pussy.
But I can’t think about that right now.
“Hiya, Maddie—welcome to our humble home. My name’s Mary Margaret, but you can call me Mamie.”
“You have a lovely home,” Maddie says, holding up one of the gift bags. “Merry Christmas. Here’s just a little something from the hotel gift shop. I’m so sorry I didn’t have time to go shopping before we left New York.”
“Ohhhh! Lookie lookie!” She tears into it immediately and holds up the Cleveland, Ohio tea towel and a Cleveland souvenir Christmas tree ornament. “Aww, so sweet. We never get to enjoy this kind of thing since we live here.” Maddie gets her cheek pinched. “Thank you, hon. Thought that counts. Let’s get your coats off. Tony! Dec and his girl are here!” she yells out. “That man, I swear. I hope my son is giving you less grief than my husband gives me.”
“Oh, he’s a real prince,” Maddie says, almost convincingly.
I take Maddie’s coat and hang both of ours up on the coat rack by the door.
My dad yells out from the kitchen, and it’s a wonder we can hear him over Dean Martin, but he’s got quite the voice. “You want me to find the platter, or you want me to come out and see the guests?!”
“I’ll get the platter!” she yells.
That’s when my favorite niece comes bounding in, followed by my sister. Casey is probably more relieved than anyone that I have a new girlfriend, because that means she won’t have to break up any fights tonight. Probably.
“Uncle Dec!” Penelope’s holding up the Rey Deluxe Lightsaber that I sent her. “Uncle Dec! I opened it already, look!”
“Hey there, Wookie.”
She jumps up into my arms, still holding the toy weapon. “I’m not a Wookie, I’m a Jedi.”
“Oh, that’s right. Have you been a good Jedi this year? Or did you switch to the dark side?”
I speak fluent Star Wars Nerd wit
h my niece while watching Casey chat with Maddie and my ma and realize that all four of my favorite girls are in this room with me right now, and this is probably going to be the high point of the night.
It’s over as soon as my dad walks in, sighing loudly as if it’s such a burden to have to greet guests in his house when he’d rather be at a local football game in the freezing cold.
“There he is,” he says. “Finally gracing us with his presence.”
I let Penelope slide down the side of me and go over to Casey so she can introduce her to Maddie. Casey mouths to me from across the room, I love her! and gives me a thumbs-up.
“Merry Christmas,” I say to my dad, holding my hand out to shake his. His hair’s a little grayer than it was the last time I saw him, but Tony Cannavale still looks like a cross between Tony Soprano and Cake Boss. Except he’s Ohio-born and bred. And he’s never had anyone killed or baked anything in his life. As far as I know.
He gives my hand an abrupt shake while patting my shoulder. “You know I got friends all over town, right? I got a buddy, his nephew went to school with you—few years younger—says he saw you at the Twinstar last night. Singing in the hotel bar.” He gives me a somewhat gentle smack up the side of my head. “You’re in town yesterday, and you don’t give your ma a phone call? Not even a quick hello? What’s the matter with you?”
“Come meet Maddie, ya big oaf,” my ma says to him. “Aw, my boy doesn’t need to call his ma. I’m sure he knew how busy I was gettin’ the house ready for guests and cleanin’ up after your mother in the kitchen and gettin’ ready for all the everything…” Ma comes over to pinch my cheek—really hard. “I mean, what’s he gonna do—stop by to see us for half an hour when he’s ten whole minutes away? Nahhh.”
“Actually—it wasn’t his fault, Mr. and Mrs. Cannavale,” Maddie offers. “I wasn’t feeling well when we got in yesterday. I really hate flying. So I was resting, and he didn’t want to leave me alone.”
Fuck me, I want to put a little Christmas bun in that oven right now.
“Awww. That sounds like Mr. Bigshot, all right. Doesn’t want to leave the hotel his sick girlfriend is in, but he’ll go down to the bar to get drunk and sing to a bunch of strangers.”
A Very Bossy Christmas Page 10