“Oh, she will. You know she will,” my father sayswarily while busying himself sorting cookies into recyclable Christmas baggies.
Mom wiggles her brows, and Dad slinks by, whispering, “Stay strong.”
Uh-oh.
Mom draws a deep breath. “Here’s my idea, and I think you’ll be rather…chuffed.”
Did my mother just adopt a British accent there at the end? Along with a Britishism? “Okay. Why will I bechuffed?” I ask, my tone laced with skepticism.
“Because as you know I’m friends with Molly Abernathy, and we were all hoping to set you up with her son, Oliver.”
I can usually handle curveballs, and really, I should have seen this one coming. The matchmaker’s parents want to match her. Of course they want to do it over the holidays too. I part my lips to protest, but my defense isn’t remotely ready.
“She likes the idea, Christine,” my father says, pleased, and completely misinterpreting my reaction.
“So much she’s speechless,” Mom says, beaming.
But all I can think is I can’t go out with the handsome, intelligent, charming man sinceI’mpractice-dating Rowan. How can I date the local art history professor while I’m prepping Rowan to find love? Only, how do you saythatto your parents? It’s unconventional, to be sure, my practice dating arrangement.
It feels wrong to date someone else while prepping Rowan. I’m not sure how to articulate why though. There’s nothing technically wrong with dating someone else while I work with Rowan on dating lessons.
Why does guilt settle into me at the thought of being set up?
And why does my stomach flip so much when I picture myself fake-dating Rowan?
I’m seriously annoying myself. Instead of answering my parents, I take a furtive bite of the seven-layer bar, and once I’ve chewed it for an eternity, trying to figure out what to say, I manage to get out: “That’s a Christmas surprise.”
21
JOKE DADDY
ROWAN
“Dad, why did the man bring his dog to the railroad station?” Mia calls out the question from the back seat, sounding entirely too pleased with herself.
We just took the second exit past downtown Evergreen Falls. This one will take us to our cabin nestled high in the hills. We’ll also pass the road to the Christmas train ride.
It’s another attraction of Evergreen Falls, a ride up the mountains to a scenic outpost, though I’m pretty sure it doubles as a lake train in the summer, a wine train in the spring, and a see-the-fall-leaves train in autumn—yes, there are leaves that change color even in Evergreen Falls.
I glance in the rearview mirror, where Mia sits next to Wanda in her dog bed, then turn my focus back to the road. “Why did the man bring his dog to the railroad station, Mia?”
“Because he wanted to ‘train’ him!”
I laugh lightly, offering her a smile in the mirror. “Good one. But how’s this? What did the Christmas train conductor say to the gingerbread man?”
She’s not the only one who can google jokes.
Mia’s brow furrows as she tilts her head in question. “You can’t catch me?”
“Nice try! But pretty sure he said, ‘You knead a ticket,’” I say, spelling out k-n-e-a-d.
“Ha. That’s good. Speaking of, I wonder what they called the Christmas train this year.” She taps her chin in thought. Every year, the themed ride changes name. Recent monikers have been North Pole Limited and the Christmas Comet. “We could go through downtown and check it out.”
My chest tightens. I try to avoid downtown—it’s like Christmas threw up there. My fail-safe method for avoiding it is owning a cabin on the outskirts of town.
But this kid, she keeps me on my toes. Then again, so does my hockey schedule. “The thing is, I should get settled in at the cabin, do a workout at the home gym. Daddy has games, you know.”
She sighs, and my heart twinges with guilt. “That’s okay. I can ask Grams when she arrives. Or my friends.”
