Chapter 16

CHAPTER 16

ASHER

“ O ne week until the big day, sir,” Mia says, lingering at my office door.

She’s still looking at me in that uncomfortable way. We haven’t mentioned the run-in we had at the bar.

“Not long now,” I say neutrally. “Do you have the latest reports?”

“Yes, sir. Here they are.”

She places them on my desk, then lingers, toying with a loose piece of string on her sweater.

“Is there anything else?” I ask.

“I just wanted to say, uh, your suit looks good today.”

“I need to get on with my work, Mia.”

She quickly leaves the room, mumbling, “Sorry.”

I almost feel bad for her. If there’s one thing I don’t need this Christmas, it’s a blowout with a woman named Mia. Two in a row is more than any man can handle.

Yesterday, I purposefully avoided Holly as much as I could. She spent the morning and afternoon with her friends. I got some work done. In the late afternoon, when she returned home, I came to the office to get out of her space.

I overshared on Saturday, telling her I cared, that she meant more to me than my ex, the woman I almost proposed to. It’s true, but that doesn’t mean I should’ve said it. It was reckless.

I can’t avoid her later because I’m picking her up and then taking her to the church so I can put on the red suit, and she can slip into her elf costume. I wasn’t lying when I said I liked the idea of her in Christmas stockings, not that it makes it any easier.

My Secret Santa phone buzzes. The last text was me saying we should keep our messages about Secret Santa and nothing else.

My Secret Santa: Somebody’s gone quiet.

I’ve been avoiding messaging her on this phone.

One, it violates the principle that we’re supposed to be friends, nothing more. Two, she doesn’t know this is me, and it hurts thinking of her flirting with somebody else.

I turn the phone face down and try to ignore it. Yeah, good luck, Asher.

Me: Maybe I’m so busy getting into the Christmas cheer that I haven’t had time to text.

My Secret Santa: That seems unlikely coming from you.

Me: Your texts have changed me. This part isn’t even a lie, though I know she understands I’m being playful and sarcastic to some degree. I was a miserable guy before, but not anymore. I’m going to make you proud soon.

My Secret Santa: How’re you going to do that?

Me: By doing something I would never have imagined myself doing before we started texting .

That’s not a lie, either. Before coming here, I never would’ve dreamed of kissing my best friend’s sister or never imagined touching and obsessing over little Tarantino. The age gap, the betrayal, and the taboo of it were unthinkable.

Not anymore. It’s all I can think about.

My Secret Santa: Care to be more specific?

I can’t do that without revealing who I am, though I think she knows. For the millionth time, I think about smashing this phone to pieces.

Me: You know I like to keep things mysterious.

My Secret Santa: Yeah, it’s one of the most infuriating and interesting things about you.

Me: That’s my specialty: annoying you and making you curious simultaneously.

My Secret Santa: I think I’ll get you “Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde” for Secret Santa. It suits you. You can never decide which version of yourself you’re going to be.

Me: I know we’re joking around, but that is an extremely impressive insight, I tell her. Doesn’t that apply to all of us? We all have multiple versions of ourselves, like stockings on the mantlepiece, and every day, we need to decide which one we will explore.

My Secret Santa: We make a good team , she replies. You’ve just taken my point and made it even better. Later, I’m going to be a good teammate, too.

I clench my jaw. She’s digging, trying to discover if this is me. Is it time to rip off the Band-Aid? We’ve overstepped so many lines already.

Me: Oh? I text, which is the most I can manage.

If I asked her what she meant specifically, it would be tantamount to lying to her.

My Secret Santa: I’ve got to dress up as an elf to help with a toy drive. I’ll have to make sure I’ve got bucketloads of Christmas spirit and a big smile on my face.

Me: That should be easy for you.

My Secret Santa: The only issue is that the Santa is just as much of a Grinch as you. I’m not sure he’s up to the task.

I shove the phone in my top drawer. We’ve reached an impasse. If I keep texting without admitting that I’m the Santa, it’s deception. I decide to leave my office.

I’ve got some tasks I’ve been putting off: introducing myself to the heads of other departments and chasing up some overdue paperwork in accounting. I need busywork to distract from my guilt for not texting her back.

My errands take me about an hour, then Dan calls me and says he wants to see me in his office. A call from my best buddy never used to make my gut tighten with nerves. I miss being excited about seeing him without this cloud hanging over us.

He’s obliviously happy when I walk into his office, tossing a baseball from hand to hand as he paces near the window.

“Good news?” I say.

“ Great news. We had some feedback about the Secret Santa game. It’s going strong, and so far, no HR disasters. That was my biggest fear when we went live with this.”

I wonder what he’d say if he knew I’ve been using the little game to text his sister.

“That’s not why I called you up here. I wanted to ask you something delicate. Sit down, Asher.”

He suddenly becomes serious, far more than usual. I swallow what feels like a tangle of razor blades.

This is it, then. Somehow, he found out about Holly and me. I doubt she told him. Maybe he sensed something was off? Or perhaps he has access to the Secret Santa texts and inferred something was going on.

We sit on the couch, not at his desk. It should make it feel more casual. It doesn’t.

“You’re probably going to freak when I suggest this,” he says. “So, before I say it, I want you to know it’s important to me. I’ve got buddies here, of course. I’m not some social freak, but nobody like you, Asher. When you’ve got ties that run as deep as us, that matters. Don’t you think?”

I wish he’d get to the point. Drawing it out is just making me feel more like a heel.

“It matters, Dan,” I agree.

“I can trust you. I know you want the best for me. I’m not saying that’s not true for my other friends, but they’ve never fought three kids because they were throwing gum at me.”

I smile, remembering that day. “They were assholes, Dan. They wouldn’t even look you in the eye if you met them today.”

“All right, so this is it.”

He takes a breath, summoning his courage.

Is he going to tell me to leave the city?

Is he going to fire me?

Is he going to say we can’t be friends anymore?

“I need you to be my wingman for a double date.”

Whoa. Okay. Not what I expected.

“I know, I know,” he quickly says, anticipating my response. “Dating isn’t your thing. You don’t want to get involved. I’m not saying you must marry the girl, but I’ve been chasing this lady for a while. She’s a model, always busy. She wants to go on a date but promised her friend they’d go out together. What’d you think?”

“Does this other lady understand I won’t be interested?”

Dan makes a face. “What sort of double date would it be if I said a thing like that? Just be polite. You don’t have to do anything. Please, bro? For me? I know it’s a big ask.”

It might not have been before I touched, kissed, and lost my mind over his kid sister, but I owe him.

“I’ll do it,” I tell him, “but don’t expect me suddenly to become some Romeo.”

“Romeo and Santa would be too much, eh?” he jokes. “Holly told me about the toy drive. I think it’s great and great that she’s helping, too. Maybe Holly will meet someone.”

“What?” I snap. “At the toy drive?”

Dan looks at me oddly. “She could. Who knows? It’d be nice if she found somebody. She’s so focused on her career all the time.”

“Maybe she likes it that way.”

I seriously need to stop.

“Or maybe she’s been telling herself she’s better off alone for so long. She’s believing it,” Dan says. “I often encourage her to date. She can do both. Career and romance.”

I swallow about a thousand replies, keeping quiet before I dig myself a hole I can’t get out of.

“Anyway,” Dan goes on. “I’ll get you the details about that date.”

“Sounds good.”

That’s a lie. It’s the opposite. The idea of going on a date with anybody who isn’t called Holly Harper is gross.

Back in the office, I stare at my computer screen, deciding I won’t even open my top drawer. I won’t text my Secret Santa if I can maintain that discipline.

Then my phone vibrates, showing Holly’s name. She’s sent me a video.

I click play, smiling when I see her walking through a costume store on the selfie camera.

“Okay, Asher, so these are the choices.” She flips the camera, showing two elf costumes. One has green stockings and a dress with frilly material around the hem, which would draw attention to her thick, perfect legs. The other is more conservative. She flips the camera back. “I’m thinking I should probably go with the second one. I don’t want to give people the wrong idea. What do you think?”

I grin, typing a message.

Me: I think you sent me this video just to put the image of you wearing the first one in my head, Snowflake.

It feels strange texting her and being able to call her “Snowflake” without giving the game away. There’s no game when we’re being ourselves, just shame and disloyalty.

Holly: Hey, be good. I want your honest opinion.

Me: My honest opinion is to buy both. Wear the boring one later for the toy drive. Keep the other one, just in case …

I can’t help myself. I’ve just looked her brother in the eye and agreed to help him and go on a double date , but I still can’t stop.

Holly: You need to behave.

Me: I know, I reply. Forget I said that.

Holly: I can’t forget anything about us. I try, Asher. I really do. I’m doing my best, but it’s like trying to ski uphill.

Me: I know the feeling, but we can be better. Later, at the toy drive, we’ll do what you said. We’ll pretend. We’ll be Asher, grumpy Scrooge, Dan’s best friend, and Holly, a girl obsessed with Christmas who would never think about letting her brother’s buddy kiss her, touch her, and obsess over her. Deal?

Holly: Obsess—is it bad that I like the sound of that?

I grin.

Me: Deal, Snowflake?

Holly: Okay, deal, but you have to stick to it.