“Hey—I wasn’t that drunk. I’m sorry, Ma. The truth is I just wanted one night alone at a hotel with my girlfriend. If that’s so terrible, well then, I’m a terrible man.” I go over to rub Maddie’s back, and by uttering two sentences, I’m the favorite guy of all four females in this room, at least for the moment.
And then my dad hustles off to the kitchen because Nonna is yelling for him, Casey’s husband calls out for her and Penelope to come watch his favorite scene in Christmas with the Kranks, and my ma hollers, “Eddie. Eddie! Edward Sullivan Cannavale! Declan’s here with his girlfriend! Get out here, come on!” She shakes her head at us. “That boy’s been in the guest room the whole time since he got here except when we’re eatin’.”
I shake my head, rolling my eyes, grateful that my little brother is being a slightly bigger disappointment than I am once again.
My ma disappears to get the platter just as my little brother emerges from the hallway, sliding his phone into the front pocket of his sweatpants. He’s so fucking handsome I want to punch him in the face, but I also want to pick him up and cradle him in my arms because he’s my baby brother.
“Eddie. You little shit. This is my girlfriend, Maddie.”
His face lights up. “Oh, hey. How you doin’?” my brother says, grinning and doing a Joey from Friends imitation because he’s a sweet, dumbass flirt. He takes Maddie’s hand to shake it and doesn’t let go.
“Well hello there. Wow. Declan wasn’t kidding when he said you were ugly,” she deadpans.
“Poor guy. I hear he was the best-looking in the family until I was born.”
She narrows her eyes at him, and I want to throw a blanket over his head already. “I think I’ve seen you on my niece’s wall…”
Shit. She recognizes him.
He smirks. “Tell your niece I said ‘hey.’”
“She’s thirteen,” I tell him as I pull his hand from hers. “Idiot.”
“Tell her I say ‘hey’ in five years,” he clarifies. My twenty-six-year-old brother has been playing a high school student in various pieces of crap for the past eight years, but he’s currently the star of a very popular show, and I’m really proud of him, even though he’s totally wasting his life in Los Angeles like an idiot. Or in Vancouver, Canada, really, because that’s where all of those shows are shot.
Maddie asks me to take a picture of them—to send to her niece—and I do it because I’m an awesome fake boyfriend who isn’t at all jealous of the fact that she hasn’t asked for a picture of me to send to Piper. Then, when I hand her phone back to her, she holds it out to Eddie and asks him to take a picture of us so she can send it to Piper. She wraps her arms around my waist, and I put mine around her shoulders, and I don’t ever want to let go.
My ma comes out of the kitchen with two cans of Guinness for me and Eddie. “Drink fast, and don’t let your nonna see you with this.”
I raise my Guinness to Eddie and try my brogue on Maddie again. “May the hinges of our friendship never grow rusty.” I glance over and catch Maddie’s eyelashes flutter.
Because Eddie’s a hot shot actor, he raises his pint of the black stuff to Maddie and Ma and says in his comparatively mediocre brogue, “May you have all the happiness and luck that life can hold, and at the end of your rainbows, may you find a pot of gold.”
Fuck you, Eddie.
“Deadly,” Maddie sighs, fanning herself. But she’s just being polite to my brother.
My ma winks at me. Then she takes Maddie by the arm. “Come, my dear. It’s time to feed you to the Italian wolf. You want a pop?”
Maddie glances back at me, confused.
“A soda,” I translate for her.
“Oh. Sure. Thanks, Mamie. Whatever you’re having.”
“Well, I’ve been sipping Jameson from a flask, but I can mix it with a Coke if you want an Irish cola.”
“That sounds perfect.” They wink at each other conspiratorially.
My brother and I both watch Maddie go.
Eddie swallows a big gulp of stout, sighs loudly, and proclaims, “She’s hot.”
I smack the back of his head while still guzzling my contraband Irish beer.
“What? She is.”
“I know that. So where’s your girlfriend?”
“She’s in LA, actually. With her family.”
“Oh yeah? Is it that friend of yours? From college?”
“Who—Birdie?” He forces a laugh. “Nerdy Birdie? No. She only dates other nerds. She’s a nerd snob. And so not my type.”
“You sure about that? Because your voice always changes when you talk about her.”
“You know what—remind me never to hire you as my lawyer because you’re not as good at reading people as you think you are. My new girlfriend’s name is Alana. She lives in New York.” He grins. “She’s a model. So hot.”
I roll my eyes. “That sounds promising.”
“She’s not like the other ones—this one’s really cool. I mean, not cool but smart. Not smart like Birdie, but she’s not dumb.”
“Uh-huh. You bringing her to the wedding?”
“Nah. She goes to the Bahamas every year for New Year’s with her friends. We’re both just busy with work.”
“Right. She lives in New York. And you live in LA and you’re always working in Vancouver.”
He lowers his voice and turns his back to the kitchen so the rest of our family can’t hear him. “I haven’t actually met her in person yet.”
“I knew it.”
“She slid into my DMs on Instagram, and we’ve been texting and FaceTiming.” He waggles his eyebrows, so I know he means he’s seen her naked. “For over a month now.”
“You’ve had FaceTime sex, is what you’re saying?”
“Nope. I mean, she’s sent me pictures of her naked, of course.”
“Of course.”
“But she doesn’t want to do any sex stuff until we actually meet. She’s old-fashioned that way. It’s sweet. Not sweet like Birdie, but she’s polite. Different. Not quirky like Birdie. But I like her.”
I pat him on the shoulder. “That’s adorable.”
“Welp. As always, I aspire to be like you, bro. I’ll get me a good woman, and then hopefully I can play a lawyer on TV one day and get paid even more than you do.”
He’s not kidding. He has always wanted to be like me, get himself a good woman, and play a lawyer or a doctor on TV. Why he keeps dating models and starlets, I’ll never understand. But everything feels right in the world with about nine ounces of Guinness entering my bloodstream, a nice fire burning in the fireplace, and my current favorite brother by my side.
And then I’m reminded of what a cold, shitty world it had been for me for most of the year when the front door opens, and my former closest brother and the woman I once thought I’d marry walk through it.
Twenty-Two
Maddie
I WISH GRANDMA GOT RUN OVER BY A REINDEER
So. Much. Seafood. It smells like an Italian aquarium in the Cannavale kitchen, and Declan was not kidding about his nonna not liking me.
Mamie is surreptitiously pouring whiskey into a glass of Coke behind the matriarch’s back, and Nonna is eyeing me suspiciously after being told that I’m Declan’s new girlfriend.
“Oh yeah?” is all she says, frowning. She looks like a miniature Robert De Niro in drag—but kinda pretty! I guess the festive Christmas apron that says Baking Spirits Bright is being worn ironically. “Hmph.” She goes back to stirring a cauldron of fish broth.
“It’s very nice to meet you…”
“Francesca,” Mamie tells me since Nonna does not offer her name.
“Francesca. That’s a beautiful name. Declan’s told me so much about you.”
She glances back at me while adding fresh basil, salt, and pepper to the broth. “This is what you are wearing to my dinner?” She shakes her head, frowning even more intensely. “Not smart. Or maybe you don’ wanna eat my food?”
Everyone else is we
aring either sweats or oversized trousers, and yeah, I should have listened to my hot fake boyfriend. “Oh, I very much plan to eat your food, Mrs. Cannavale. Declan did tell me to change what I was wearing, but I…” No use finishing that sentence since she isn’t paying any attention to me. She’s too busy pouring mussels and clams into the fish broth.
Mamie comes over to hand me the Jameson and Coke, which I gulp down immediately. God bless her, she was not stingy with the whiskey. She takes the gift bag from me and holds it up to show Nonna. “Look what Maddie brought you. A gift from her hotel!”
“Open for me,” she mumbles as she pours oil into a huge saucepan.
Mamie pulls out the shot glass with the Cleveland skyline etched onto it. “Cute, right? It’s Cleveland. Your favorite city after Sicily.”
Nonna eyes it warily. “Hmph.” She flicks her hand in the air. “Put away somewhere. I got no time for it.”
Mamie turns and rolls her eyes at me, grinning impishly. “She means thank you for being sooooo thoughtful.” She pops the shot glass back into the bag and places it on a chair by the kitchen table because every inch of the counters and tables in here are covered with ingredients and plates and platters and baskets of food.
Guess I should just start listening to Declan. He was right about the pants, and he was right about his parents and nonna not caring if I bring them gifts or not. But I had to do something. Especially if some woman who’s dated two Cannavale sons is going to be here tonight.
He said he met her in college, and they were on and off for a decade. A decade. I wonder if he had sex with her in this house. I wonder how much he still thinks about her. All this time I’ve known him, he’s probably been in a bad mood because he was upset about her. I hate that I didn’t know that. Or maybe I hate her for doing this to him. Out of loyalty. Because I’m his assistant. And it’s my job to be loyal to him.
Welp. So much for resisting my boss! As if seeing him dance around naked to a seventies pop song wasn’t enough—watching him with his niece made my ovaries throb, and I don’t know if my “No Sleepovers” rule is going to prevent the rest of me from falling for him. Hopefully he’ll go back to being an insufferable ass when we get back to work. Hopefully I’m only staring at the kitchen table, picturing him eating breakfast in here as a teenager and wondering what kind of cereal he ate because I’m bored. Or maybe he wasn’t as good at sex as I thought he was last night. Maybe I was mistaken. Maybe he’s not as sweet or caring as he seems to be lately. It could all be an act.
Or maybe I’m screwed.
But at least I’m being screwed by a real man for a change. Screwed long and hard and every which way but upside-down. Actually, we may have done an upside-down thing last night too. “Can I help with anything?” I blurt out before I start moaning Declan’s name in front of his mother and grandmother.
They’re in the middle of arguing about how much marinara sauce they’ll need, so my question goes ignored. But when Declan walks in, they both shut up and start grinning. Even his own flesh and blood are not immune to his handsome face.
I can tell immediately that his mood has changed, though.
“Ciao, bella,” he says to his nonna, kissing her on the cheek. “When do we eat? I’m starving. Why do my pants still fit me, huh? What a rip-off.”
“Ciao, bello,” she mumbles. “It’s time,” she announces, still scooping deep-fried calamari into a bowl. “Time for antipasti. Get back out there, uh! Andiamo andiamo!”
It’s not even four o’clock yet, but I guess it’ll take about three hours to eat all of this food.
Declan puts his arm around my shoulders without looking at me. “Hey.”
“Hey.”
“You ready?” Something tells me he isn’t asking me if I’m ready for dinner.
“As I’ll ever be.”
He pushes the swinging door open, and I walk out to the dining area. There are a bunch of people in the living room all of a sudden, but Declan goes straight to the table and takes a seat with his back to the living room. Hunched over, like a moody teenager. Like the Little Bummer Boy. With Dean Martin singing “Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer” and all the decorations around him, his gloominess is almost comical. He gestures for me to sit next to him, but when I notice the couple in the corner who are staring at me, I can’t move. That must be Brady and Hannah.
Hannah is a petite blonde who somehow looks stunning, elegant, and adorable in an oversized blouse and overalls with a Santa Mickey appliqued on the front pocket. I don’t know what I was expecting—a Disney witch or a Sophia Loren type—but I wasn’t expecting a midwestern Tinkerbell. She’s all glow-y and smiley. She’s the opposite of me, and I want to hate her, but I can’t. I can’t even hate Brady, who’s a lankier, artsier version of Declan. They’re both touching each other in that gentle, instinctive way that couples do when they’re in love.
I’m starving too, all of a sudden, and it’s not for antipasti.
It’s Eddie who finally introduces me to the people I haven’t met yet. Aiden must be the oldest—handsome and starting to go a little gray around the sideburns. He has a wife and two kids. Casey’s husband looks like a TV high school football coach. This family may be a little loud, but they look like the stock photo of a family that comes with a picture frame. When Eddie introduces me to Brady and Hannah, they look a little tense. Like they’re expecting me to tear them a new one or something.
“Merry Christmas” is all I say. “Congratulations.”
Hannah seems relieved, but Brady says, “Thank you. I’d congratulate you too, but you snagged yourself the worst brother.”
Hannah smacks him, somewhat playfully.
“Hey, I’ll take what I can get.”
“It’s really nice to meet you,” Hannah says, giving my arm a friendly little squeeze.
“All right! Everyone sit down!” Tony orders as Nonna carries a tureen out to the table. “This is not a drill! Kids—you’re eating in the family room. Stay out of trouble.”
“Come and get your dinner, love,” I sing into Declan’s ear as I take the seat beside him.
“Smartass,” he whispers into mine. He’s not happy, but at least he doesn’t look miserable anymore.
Casey makes a joke about Hannah’s wedding dress, and Hannah tells her she scheduled the final fitting for after Christmas for a reason. And then everyone looks at Declan, who’s frowning at the empty plate in front of him, and it’s really, really awkward. I want to give him a verbal spanking, but I also want to give him a hug. And I also want him to give me an actual spanking later, maybe.
Tony Cannavale rushes through grace. “Bless us, O Lord, and these, Thy gifts, which we are about to receive Thy bounty, through Christ, our Lord, Amen.” He barely waits for everyone else to say “Amen” before continuing, “And I just wanna say…” He smacks one hand down on the table, shaking the whole thing. “I’m just gonna say this once… This tension here, between certain someones, and the taking sides and the bickering and the angry awkward silence and the what have you. I will have none of it. Not tonight. No more. We’re all family here. All right? All of us. We celebrate love in this house. For everyone. That’s all I’m saying about it—everybody eat.”
“Mangia, mangia,” Nonna grumbles.
I place my hand on Declan’s thigh under the table, and his hand is immediately covering mine. He doesn’t look at anyone, but he’s touching me, and that’s enough.
Tony explains the menu to me, since I’m the only one who’s never been to Christmas Eve dinner here before. “Traditionally, Italians don’t eat meat on Christmas Eve, which is why all the fish—seven kinds of fish. But my mama makes her own rules, and she also makes three different kinds of meatballs in honor of my pops, who loved meatballs.” Tony and Nonna cross themselves without pausing their eating. “The meatballs are secondi. So leave room for them.”
“Hey, do we know how you and asshat met?” Casey asks me.
I swallow a calamari and then tell her, “Asshat co
nvention.” Declan rubs my thigh, reminding me that it’s okay to tell them that I work for him. “Actually, we met at work. We started working together two months ago.”
“Oh, are you a real estate agent?”
“She’s my executive assistant,” Declan says, slurping his clam and mussel posillopo. He turns to me and says, “Best I’ve ever had. On every level. Don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“Nonna, can I have the recipe for this soup? Whatever you put in it, I need to feed it to him every day.”
“No,” she snarls.
“It’s not the soup, it’s the Guinness,” Mamie stage whispers. “Every nice word out of that boy’s mouth is from the Irish side. Everything good my boys got to give a woman is from the Irish side.”
I share a look and a sly grin with Hannah and Aiden’s wife.
I don’t know about that, Mrs. C, but what your boy’s got is awfully good.
Twenty-Three
Declan
IT’S BEGINNING TO LOOK A LOT LIKE UNFINISHED BUSINESS
While everyone else is crowding into the family room to play Christmas Carol Pictionary with the kids, I pull Maddie into the guest bathroom with me and shut the door. I had wine with dinner. I’m feeling really full and warm. And I caught her unbuttoning and unzipping her jeans about an hour ago, and I just can’t wait to get my hands on that warm, round belly.
“Declan,” she whispers. “What are you doing?”
I lift her sweater up, drop to my knees, and kiss the flesh that’s bulging out of her tight jeans.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Yes, and I need to get you out of these pants.”
“Seriously? You’re horny right now? I can’t even think about sex—I can barely even breathe.”
I try to get her pants down, but they won’t budge, not even an inch.
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