I hold my hands up in supplication. “I don’t care who’s at fault. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that they all pull their heads out of their asses and quit making it so that ifourkids want to get married someday, they don’t have to go throughthis.”
So Tinsel’s mayor doesn’t have to continuously intervene to keep one of our families from sabotaging the other during parades and cookie bake-offs and snowman-building contests. So I can have one conversation with my family that doesn’t remind me of how mean and petty they can be. So that Lorelei can have dinner with Amanda when she’sin town without the two of them having to sneak around to make it happen.
Hell, they could even publicly be friends on social media.
Wouldn’t that be something?
Amanda swipes her eyes and turns away, staring at the coffee maker instead of me. “I know.I know.I just—you’re so logical and smart and you know exactly what we need to do, and why, and how, and I’m just—I’mnot. I got you into this and you’re doing all of the planning and thewhys and I’m just daydreaming about a romance gone wrong well over a century ago.”
You’re so smart, Dane. Look at those grades. Look at what a good job you have. Those Andersons can’t touch what we’ve got in you. Ignorant assholes. We made sure they saw the write-up of you and your volunteer work at the dog shelter too. They acted like they didn’t see it, but we know they did.
Sometimes, I want to daydream about a romance gone wrong, too, but hell if I’ve ever been able to admit it out loud.
“You ate half a fruitcake last night,” I say instead. “You’re definitely pulling your weight.”
“I like fruitcake.Especially your family’s fruitcake. I’ve tried fruitcake all over New York City, and nothing else comes close. I meant it when I said I order it under my roommate’s name. You can check the receipts. There are probably two a year from Yazmin, which is really me ordering as her.”
If she weren’t an Anderson, my family would be thrilled that we’re engaged. Even Lorelei doesn’t like the family fruitcake, which is the biggest reason she’s not working at the Fruitcake Emporium.
“So you’re still in? We’re still engaged for the next six days or until our families come around on their own?” I ask her.
She looks at the letter, then back at me. “I don’t know if this will solve my problems at the bakery, but I know the town deserves to have our families’ feuding end. Even if it all goes to hell, we’ll know one day our own great-grandchildren will read the social media posts about how we tried to fix it, and that’ll have to be enough.”
“No boyfriends for you, but you want kids?” I ask, then instantly regret it.
Yes, Amanda, I paid very close attention to how you feel about dating. That’s the most important part.
But she just smiles. “I never wanted a fiancé either, but look at us now.”
The coffee maker stutters the end of its cycle, and she leaps to grab two mugs. “Sugar? Cream? Milk? Iced to brace ourselves for another day of this awful heat? I should know how you like your coffee.”
“With good company.”
“So somewhere else.”
“Hey. Nobody’s their best before coffee. And you’re very good company.” I step behind her and settle my hands on her shoulders.
She stiffens but almost immediately relaxes and leans back into me, and for one more split second, I wonder what it would be like if this was real.
If I was in a real relationship with Amanda.
“Thank you for lying to me,” she says.
“Who do you keep in your life who makes you feel like you’re not good company? They need to go.”
“Just me.”
“How do you take your coffee?”
“Intravenously, preferably.”
“Second choice? I need to know since we’re engaged.”
“Eggnog lattes are my favorite. Heavy on the eggnog.”
“Seriously?”
“They’re delicious.”
