“I’m mostly done.
“I can’t believe Cat’s already engaged,” Brinley says. “Feels like just yesterday she was in here, talking about how dating him was a bad idea. What about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
“Actually, I’m seeing twelve someones. It’s for a series of articles at work, where I go out on twelve Christmas-y dates with different guys.”
Brinley tilts her head. “All different guys?”
“It seemed like a good idea when I pitched it to my editor, but it’s been exhausting. I’ve been on four dates so far, and there were zero winners. I can’t believe I have eight to go.”
“Damn, eight dates. That’s more than I’ve been on in”—she counts silently on her fingers—“three years?”
I laugh. “Me too. If you don’t count hook-ups. I don’t know how Carrie Bradshaw did it.”
“Well, it probably helped that she was fictional. If I was making up my own love life, I’d have an Aidan too.”
“I probably would be toxic and make up a Mr. Big, with the way my life choices have been going,” I grumble.
“Wait, so what happens if you like one of the twelve guys? Do you still have to go out with the rest of them?”
“I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. All my dates have been total disasters. But I guess that also makes them fun to read.”
“So there’s no one you’re interested in?”
Brinley looks at me, her expression open and curious, and I’ve got the sudden impulse to spill everything about Ryan. I just wish I could havesomeoneon my side, to tell me if I’ve completely lost my mind. Even though Brinley and I are getting closer, though, dropping the wholeI touched myself thinking about my stepbrotherthing might be a bridge too far.
Instead I say, “There’s a guy I’m interested in. We definitely have chemistry, but there are…circumstances in the way.”
She leans in with keen interest in her eyes, resting her chin on her clasped hands. “Oooo, I’m intrigued. You know that’s how every good romance starts, right? First it’s ‘let’s just keep things casual’, and then it’s ‘I can’t stay away from you’, and before you know it he’s monologuing about his tragic backstory while you’re making out by the Christmas tree.”
I blink. “That’s…oddly specific.”
Her throat bobs and she lets out a little laugh that doesn’t reach her eyes. “I read a lot.” she indicated the stacks of books surrounding us in her cafe. “Consider that my professional prediction.”
I shake my head. “It’s just not possible for us to ever date.”
Brinley nods. “I know what that’s like. Boys are complicated.”
“We should figure out a way to replace them. I’m thinking maybe a sexy robot.”
“Like C3PO?”
I choke on my wine. “You mean the gold British robot fromStar Wars? Are you serious?”
“I don’t know! Can you think of a hotter robot?”
“The Terminator. The Iron Giant. Optimus Prime. And—hear me out—WALL-E.”
“No.” Brinley slaps her hand on the table. “You can’t make fun of me for saying C3PO when you bring up a cartoon garbage can.”
“Because C3PO’s obviously gay. He and R2-D2 have a thing.”
“WALL-E has no legs, no fingers, and no genitals. What are you even going to do with him?”
“Pick up trash and save the world. Duh.”
Brinley giggles. I swirl my wine in my glass, thinking. “You know what, you really should come to the White Elephant party. I’ve got a trick up my sleeve that I think you might enjoy. If you’re there, I know at leastoneperson will laugh.”
She sighs. “I don’t know. I don’t think I’d have much fun.”
