God dammit, you still have a smokin’ wagon.
“Thank you,” she says.
Did I say that out loud?
“You’re welcome again.” We make our way over to the jacaranda tree and Paxton and Summer. “Did you drive here?”
“I did. I should probably hang out here for a while before driving home.”
“Okay. Well, Paxton’s bedtime is nine, but Alyssa will probably let him stay up later tonight.”
“Okay. It was nice seeing you again, Dummy. Even though you’re still kind of a dick.”
“Right back at you, Curly.”
Summer and Paxton wave us forward, like aircraft marshallers directing a plane on the tarmac. Laughing, they hold their hands up and shout out for us to stop. We do. “Look up!” Paxton says gleefully.
We look up.
There’s mistletoe hanging from a branch.
Shit.
But also—fuck.
I feel like a crotchety old guy in a Scooby-Doo episode—I would have gotten away from her if it weren’t for those meddling kids!
Because I know even before I turn to face Cleo, even before I hook my index finger under her chin, tilting her face up to mine. Even before she looks up at me through those dark eyelashesand holds on to my lapels with both hands, rising onto her tiptoes. Even before I lean down to press my lips to hers and she parts her lips that tiny, monumental bit, that I’m not leaving this woman.
Not yet.
But I do need another drink.
7
FROM:[email protected]
Dec. 21, 2025, 8:37 AM
SUBJECT:Happy Holidays WTF
Hi.
I woke up with a mild hangover and an alarm notification that said “Check attachment in email Cleo sent to herself from my phone, Dummy.”
Your video proof of me offering you a temporary assistant job over the holidays was rather clever and seems legit, despite the very shaky camerawork.
A hundred dollars an hour for office assistant work is outrageous. However I have a deadline to meet. Having already fired seven temps this week, I am inclined to give this a shot, assuming you are willing to start today.
I can arrange for you to have a drive-on pass at the studio lot. If you accept, I’ll send you my office info.
I do have to get real work done today, as I have a deadline.
Please don’t wear that saucy elf costume, speak in rhyme, or act all festive.
PS: I apologize for the confusion caused by my son’s good intentions. He knew nothing of our former acquaintance and film school rivalry. But thanks for playing along.
