“The Nativity was ruined once you left. It all just…fell apart. Harold was so depressed you left that he didn’t want to be Joseph anymore. The goats got sick and threw up on everything. Baby Jesus just cried and cried.”
Olivia sneaks in during Aunt Patrice’s outburst and drops down in the seat next to me, nudging me under the table.
“I’m really sorry, Aunt Patrice,” I say with the most sincere voice I can muster.
Her frown persists. “I know you still haven’t gotten over Dave, but that’s still no reason to ruin everyone’s fun.”
“Griffin,” Charlie says.
“Who’s Griffin?” she asks.
“The guy Sophie can’t get over,” he answers.
I throw a piece of cinnamon roll at him.
Aunt Patrice looks confused. “Then who’s Dave?”
Charlie shrugs. “I have no idea.”
Aunt Patrice finally walks away, still pondering who Dave is. At least she’s not chewing me out anymore.
Uncle Michael walks in and says, “The new sheet is up.”
This dating thing has turned into something like the NBA finals. Apparently Nonna got wind yesterday that my uncles, a few of my aunts, and some of my older cousins are betting on what time I get home from my date. Their basic strategy is to weigh who picked the date, what the activity is, and how long they think I can put up with him. All bets have to be finalized by the time I get in my date’s vehicle.
Nonna acts like she’s annoyed, but I suspect she’s in on it. How else would they know what time I walk through the door?
“So there’s an actual sheet where you can place a bet now?” I ask Olivia.
“Yes. The group message was getting out of control.”
“How many people are in the group? And why can’t I be in it?”
Olivia’s mouth forms a weird grimace. “Pretty much everyone. I wanted to add you, but Graham said the only way to keep the competition pure was to make sure you weren’t influenced by the bets. Then Uncle Ronnie hijacked it with pics of his dog, so Charlie made another group text without him where we took a vote to see if we should kick him out. In the end, Uncle Michael decided to make a betting sheet.”
Banks, Uncle Sal’s son, leans forward and says, “It’s like one of those betting squares you do for the Super Bowl.”
I look at Olivia. “This has gotten out of control.”
She nods toward Uncle Sal. “I mean, I didn’t know if he even knew how to text, and then he was blowing my phone up.”
Uncle Sal laughs. “I’m glad we’ve moved on to the sheets. I couldn’t take one more picture of Ronnie’s dog licking his butt.”
My phone vibrates on the table and I turn it over. My heart skips when I see Griffin’s name there. It’s like he knew we were just talking about him.
Charlie turns up behind me and glances at the screen. “Oh no. No jackasses on my day.” He tries to grab the phone, but I hold it just out of reach.
I scoot back in my chair and swipe open his message. It’s a picture of me with Seth and Olivia and Drew from my first date. We’re all huddled together in front of a giant cardboard snowman. The picture was taken right after our snowball fight.
GRIFFIN:Someone sent me this. This guy you’re with posted it and said “Hoping all of her other dates suck”
Before I can even think of a response, Griffin sends another text.
GRIFFIN:I guess I didn’t expect you to go on a date so soon. I know I screwed up. And I’m sorry. It kills me to see you with this guy
“Hell no,” Charlie says from over my shoulder. He succeeds in taking my phone this time. “He’s not going to lay some guilt trip on you when he was the one who wanted to break up.”
Charlie starts tapping something on my phone. I try to snatch it back.
