Chapter 27
My jaw hits the floor.
“You pay all of that… by yourself?”
Considering that I can barely afford my rent—which is considerably less than six grand—I’m amazed he can still afford shampoo.
“The house is paid off, and my dad pays me almost six figures. None of his other kids work for him, so I get the nepo special.”
“But… you hate the job?”
He shakes his head. “I don’t, actually. I studied business.
I like marketing, and I’m good at it. Working with ‘the Christmas King’”—he throws up air quotes—“isn’t my favorite, but he’s mostly hands-off.
Except when it’s time for him to show up as the face of Golding Home for events and commercial shoots. ”
I hesitate. “I’m just surprised your dad lets you carry all that alone.”
“He doesn’t know,” Eben says with a shrug. “And he’s never asked.”
I blink. “Wait—you never told your dad? Or Mary Lou? That most of your paycheck goes straight to Forest Park?”
He rolls his eyes. “Why bother? He’d probably tell me to sell the house and dump her somewhere crappy so Medicaid will cover it.”
“You don’t know that,” I say gently. “You don’t know that your dad wouldn’t actually… show up for you. I’m sure Mary Lou would. She already has.”
“I don’t want to need him for anything,” he snaps. “I’m tired of being let down all the damn time.”
“You’re already disappointed,” I say. “What’s one more letdown?”
“You don’t know my dad,” he mutters. “Nothing he does is out of the goodness of his heart. All good deeds come with strings attached—and a bow on top.”
“Well, you’re already paying the price for not giving him a chance,” I say, folding my arms.
The air crackles between us.
The passenger door swings open, and Ally materializes, beaming, receipt in hand.
“You’ll never guess how much they charged me for twenty-five real-feathered angel wings.” She waves the receipt around like it’s a Golden Ticket. “Zero. Fucking. Dollars! I told them it was for the nursing home, and they’re hand-delivering our order this week.”
“Wow,” I say, sneaking a look at Eben. His face is unreadable.
“And guess what else?” Ally crows.
“What?” Eben says through gritted teeth, trying—and failing—not to sound annoyed.
“The Christmas King himself is making an appearance at the pageant!”
“What?” we say in unison. Eben visibly pales.
“Okay, technically his wife volunteered him,” Ally amends. “But he’s coming! And they’re blasting it in this week’s newsletter! Thousands of subscribers! Am I a PR genius or what?”
A little too good, Ally.
When neither of us answers, she adds, “I know I didn’t do anything, per se, but it’s the vibe I bring to the function.”
She finally clocks Eben’s stricken face and winces. “Sorry, man, I know things are… dicey with dear old Dad, but c’mon. What was I supposed to do—say no?”
Eben drops his forehead to the steering wheel. “My mom is going to lose it when she sees him.”
“Relax,” Ally says. “We’ll suit him up in full Christmas King drag. She won’t even recognize him.”
I shoot her a look. She gulps.
“...I hope.”
The ride home is quiet, except for the classic rock station humming in the background. Led Zeppelin wails “Heartbreaker,” which feels a little on the nose.
Eben doesn’t say much. Neither do I.
When we pull up to my place, he barely puts the truck in park before muttering a quick “thanks” and unlocking the doors. No kiss. No hand squeeze. Not even a glance.
He waits for Ally to hop out, then peels out before I’ve even reached the bottom of the stairs.
There’s a hollowness in my chest I didn’t see coming. I know Eben has to go home eventually, but after everything—the baking, the sex, the sharing—it feels a little like the dreaded pump-and-dump.
I watch his truck until it’s out of sight.
“Come on, let’s go hang out in your apartment that smells like both cookies and sex,” Ally says, marching up the steps. “We’ll spray some air freshener first.” When I don’t immediately follow, she turns.
I meet her with big, watery eyes.
“Awwwww, babe! Melly-belly!” She pulls me into a hug.
“I think I fucked it up,” I whisper. But what else is new?
“Boys are stupid—but also simple, thank God,” she says, brushing my hair from my face. “He likes you, sweetie. A lot. He just hates his dad, and it’s fucking with his head.”
I sniffle, loud and snotty.
“Aww,” she says—then makes a face. “Gross.”
I laugh.
She grabs my wrist and tugs. “Come on, let’s go raid the cum cookies you baked for the old fucks.”
“We did not fuck near the food!”
“Ha! Got you to admit it.”
I groan as she drags me up the stairs.
We steal half a tray of cookies and collapse on the couch with the Hallmark Channel. Neither of us actually likes the sugary-sweet movies, but we indulge in the occasional hate-watch.
This one is called Cowboy Claus, about a big-city veterinarian who inherits her grandfather’s reindeer farm, which doubles as a year-round Christmas-themed animal rescue.
“Mistletoe Ranch? You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Ally bites into a frozen cookie. I swear her teeth are made of steel.
“Awwww, they’re baking peppermint bark for that squirrel with anxiety.”
“That’s obscene,” Ally says. “Everyone knows squirrels hate mint.”
“I don’t know, the man in the red-and-green flannel with the cowboy hat seems convinced it will help.” I shrug.
When the couple tilts toward each other for Hallmark’s signature almost-kiss—the painfully slow lean-in interrupted by a rogue child in reindeer pajamas—Ally hurls a cookie at the screen.
“Just bend her over already!”
“Ally!” I snatch the tray from her lap.
“Hey!”
“You’re cut off.”
She pouts. “Fine, but only if we order takeout.”
I narrow my eyes. “Is Teddy coming over?”
Her expression shifts. She cocks her head to the side, too casual. “No. Why?”
I squint at her. “Since when do we hang out this much without Teddy joining us for at least one meal?”
“I’m spending time with my best friend. Is that a crime?”
“I didn’t say it was a crime…” I study her. She won’t meet my eyes. She’s hiding something. I lean back and cross my arms. “What’s with this last-minute decision to skip town for Christmas?”
She shrugs. “We just wanted to try something different this year.”
“Why?”
She groans. “Ugh, can you just not be my incredibly perceptive best friend for once? Just sweep some shit under the rug!”
Ha. Got her.
“Teddy and I are going through a rough patch, okay? I just wanted to get away. Just the two of us. No Tidbit, even.”
On my look, she adds: “Teddy’s sister is gonna watch him.”
My brows knit. “What’s going on?”
“I promise I will tell you everything once we’ve sorted it, but for right now—can we just not talk about it?”
I nod. “Yeah, of course, Ally. For the record, you would waterboard the info out of me.”
“You’re not wrong,” Ally says. “I’m a big hypocrite.”
“As long as you’re self-aware.”
She rolls her eyes and opens a delivery app. “What do you want, bitch?”
We land on ramen. Forty-five minutes and roughly a million dollars later, I’m mid-bite—chopsticks poised—when my phone buzzes. My heart drops. I’m bracing for Cassie’s name to light up the screen.
But it’s Eben.
My stomach somersaults.
I glance at Ally. She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling. “Go talk to loverboy.”
“I’ll be right back.”
I grab my phone and duck into my bedroom. “Hi,” I say, trying not to sound too breathless.
“It occurred to me when I got home—I didn’t even say goodbye.”
“Oh.” I laugh, awkward. “Bye?”
He chuckles. He sounds nervous, too. “I had fun this weekend.”
“Me too.”
“What time do you want to tackle that list tomorrow?”
My heart does another happy flip. “I get off work around five-ish?”
“It’s a date,” he says—and I can hear the grin. “And, Melody?”
“Mmhmm?”
“Pack a bag. Maybe a few stocking stuffers?”
I freeze for a hot second before I catch his meaning. Heat blooms low in my belly.
“Oh! Okay.”
“And cancel anything that requires walking on Tuesday.”
Click.
I sit down on my bed, heart racing, thighs clenched, brain buffering.
I hear Ally shout from the other room. “Do we need to go to the sex shop?”
“Shut up!”
I flop back on the mattress, grinning like a lunatic.