The mudroom door shuts, and a beat later there’s the unmistakable sound of someone hurling a snowball with the velocity of a small meteor.
Tamara groans. “They lasted, what, eight seconds?”
“Generous,” Lulu says, handing me a glass of wine as I settle beside her. “Honestly, that’s a new record.”
I peer out the window at the flurry of movement—Eli diving behind a bush, Logan lining up a retaliatory shot like they’re pro-athletes in a game of World War Snow, not the NHL.
“Wow,” I deadpan. “Look at them. Two best friends shovelling snow so responsibly.”
Lulu’s face softens as she watches Logan dodge another snowball and immediately return fire with sniper accuracy.
“He’s never really had a Christmas like this before,” she says quietly. “His parents don’t do holidays. No traditions, nothing that looks like…” She gestures around the room at the twinkle lights, the gifts, Leah humming from the kitchen as she bastes the turkey. “This.”
“That’s awful,” I murmur.
Lulu shrugs, glancing at the giant diamond sparkling on her finger. “He pretends it’s not. But I think being here kinda guts him, in a good way. He’s finally being surrounded by the love he deserves.” Then her eyes narrow playfully, turning straight on me. “Which brings me to amuchmore interesting topic.”
“Yes.” Tamara sits forward like she’s been waiting all day for this. “Let’s discussyourlove life.”
I choke on my sip of wine. “Jesus. Can we talk about literally anything else?”
“No,” they say in unison.
“Don’t you two have your own relationships to obsess over?”
“We’re already obsessed,” Lulu replies, wiggling her ring so it catches the light. “Now it’s your turn.”
“You do realize I haven’t brought anyone here for Christmas since college, right?”
“Exactly,” Tamara deadpans. “We’re overdue.”
I sigh into my glass. “Fine. There was someone.”
Tamara gasps. “Was?!”
Lulu leans in as though she’s about to hear state secrets. “Tell us everything. Who is he? How’d you meet? What does he look like?”
“Don’t know.”
“What?”
“I don’t know what he looks like. We never met. It was all voice.”
Their twin expressions of shock would be funny if this weren’t already mortifying.
“You never met?” Tamara repeats slowly. “Francesca Monroe, are you telling me you got catfished?”
“No! I mean, I don’t think so.” I pause, then wince. “Okay, maybe. I don’t know. We met on that dumb voice-first matchmaking app—the one where you don’t see anyone’s face unless you both agree to reveal.”
“Oh my god,” Lulu breathes. “You were onBanter?”
Tamara’s eyes widen. “That app where people seduce each other with their voices?”
“Seduce is a strong word.”
Tamara arches a brow.
“Okay,fine,” I groan. “Yes, we seduced each other. His voice should be illegal. The man could read tax law and I’d still need a minute.”
