“How is Frank these days?” Frank was Lisa’s father, and after a brief stint as a deadbeat dad after her parents’ divorce, he’d rediscovered his paternal instincts with the help of his second wife. Lisa and her younger sister eventually forgave him for those lost years and now alternated spending the major holidays with him and their mother, who was also remarried.
“Typical Frank. Trying to fix me up with his newest protégé.”
“Is this one promising at least?” Mr. Salinger was old-fashioned and wanted both of his daughters married by thirty. He didn’t seem to connect the fact that his own first marriage, at the age of twenty-three, had ended in divorce. The owner of a meat-distribution company, Frank liked to keep his matchmaking attempts close to home and pushed Lisa into many dates with his employees. None of them had led to a second date, probably because the so-far incompatible men likely only agreed to the first date to avoid termination.
Sounding weary, Lisa said, “I’ll find out tomorrow. Frank invited this one, a new vendor specializing in halal goat, beef, and chicken, to dinner.”
“Good luck with that,” I snorted, picturing a guy wearing a bloodstained butcher’s coat sitting at the head of her dining room table with a freshly slaughtered cow in front of him.
“And what about you? How’s Will? You’re still seeing him, right?”
“Yes, we’re still dating. But I brought someone else to the Bellows’ Christmas spectacular this year.”
Lisa gasped. “It’s not like you to cheat, Sid. Why not let him loose if someone else is tickling your fancy? And, yes, I am using ‘fancy’ as a euphemism.”
Laughing, I said. “I’m not screwing around on Will.” Even if I was bored with Will, as maddeningly perfect as Perry was from a purely superficial standpoint, I’d rather practice my swiping skills on Tinder than fornicate with him. “I borrowed someone else’s boyfriend for the week.”
“Come again?”
I explained the boyfriend swap to her. “Spending time with this guy is the equivalent of listening to the theme song of Orange is the New Black on repeat.”
“Yikes.” Lisa hated the song too, so I knew she’d get it.
“I don’t want to talk about him though. Other than him grating on my nerves, the swap is working, at least on my end.” Since the idea had been my creation, I wanted her to know the plan was solid—as solid as Perry’s pecs.
“What do you want to talk about?”
Jake. “Nothing specific. Just stuff. Any gossip to share?” For instance, Jake. Is he married with children?
“I’ve got nothing. Ask me again tomorrow. At least I’ll be able to shed light on Meat Guy.”
“Meat Guy? He sounds like a porn star.”
“If he has a mustache, I’m going home, and I’m taking my pies with me.”
I yearned to ask her what she knew about Jake, but my lips wouldn’t cooperate. She didn’t need to know I stalked him. I could say I saw his picture under “people you might know” on Facebook and noticed the twins. It wasn’t really lying as much as avoiding unwanted follow-up questions. I’d been so certain I made the right decision when I let Jake go, and I only looked back sometimes—like now. It wasn’t that I had regrets; I was just curious. So why couldn’t I ask the question? It was four words—is Jake a dad? I rolled my eyes up to the ceiling and let a stream of air out of my mouth. “So, I—”
“I love you, Sid, but do you mind if we table this conversation until tomorrow? I have to wake up in about five hours.”
I leaned back against my headboard and closed my eyes. “Sure thing. Get some sleep. Merry Christmas to the Salinger clan and give my best to Meat Guy.”
“Will do. Don’t kill Perry.”
“I won’t. Just superficial wounds, I promise.”
After we hung up, I stared at my home, noting the absence of a return call or text from Will. Maybe he instinctively knew I was obsessing over an ex-boyfriend and was avoiding me as punishment. I put my sleep mask back on and set my mind on falling asleep. Once I applied myself to something, it was rare I didn’t succeed.
As long as “something” was not asking my closest friend a simple four-word question.
Robyn
Once safely parked in my parents’ driveway, I turned the engine off, unbuckled my seat belt, and looked at Will. He was staring at his phone. “We’re home,” I announced.
As if in a daze, Will lifted his eyes away from his phone and blinked at me. “Oh, right.” He freed himself from the seat and placed the device in his back pocket before opening the passenger door.
Tucking my hands in my jacket pockets as we walked up the driveway, I pretended not to notice the tension in the air. The car ride home from the bar was silent aside from the stupid comments I’d made while tinkering with the radio in a desperate attempt to make conversation. Adding to my tally of pathetic dialogue, I said, “I think the temperature dropped at least twenty degrees since yesterday.”
With a groggy smile, Will said, “Accuweather calls for a brutal Christmas. Al Roker agrees, but I’m still hoping Bill Evans will give us a reprieve.”
Chuckling, I said, “You’re sure up on your television meteorologists.”
“Only NBC and ABC. I couldn’t tell you about CBS.”
“I think it’s John Elliot.” When Will regarded me in surprise, I said, “I only know because Perry was stuck in an elevator with him once.” I winced at the mention of Perry’s name since it seemed to be a sore subject and concentrated on unlocking the front door of the house.
Sarcasm dripping from his voice, Will said, “Let me guess, Perry kept him so entertained with his pitch-perfect singing voice that John barely noticed he was trapped.”
“Of course not,” I said quickly. According to Perry’s telling of the story, he did make John laugh with his impersonations of various anchors and reporters, but I didn’t think providing further details on the matter would go over well with Will.
After hanging up our jackets, I motioned toward the kitchen. “Want water?”
Will grinned sheepishly. “I’m kind of starving. Any chance we can eat leftovers from dinner?”
I was so thrilled to see him smile again, I’d have offered to drive him to get hoagies if it was what he wanted. “Sure.” Happy at least a smidgen of tension had been lifted, I forced myself to shrug off concerns about what we’d talk about while snacking. As Will followed me to the refrigerator, I was taken aback by sounds coming from the family room. “Is anyone down here?” I asked.
One at a time, the members of my family popped into view—first my mom, then my dad from next to her on the couch, followed by Jordy from the reclining chair. It was like a Whac-A-Mole game, but without the light and sound features. I glanced at my watch. “What are you guys doing up?” Jordy was a night owl, but my parents rarely stayed downstairs past ten. What if Jordy only pretended to believe Will’s explanation earlier and had told my parents he suspected we were lying about the whole thing?
“We were watching a movie,” my dad replied at the same time my mom said, “Binge-watching on Netflix.”
Peering at the flat-screen television through the open space connecting the kitchen to the family room, I said, “You’re binge-watching movies on Netflix? On Christmas Eve?” I glanced at Will to see if he thought it was weird too. He was smirking as if in on the secret. I mouthed, “What?” and he shrugged in response.
Jordy cleared his throat. “We watched a movie first and now we’re binge-watching Fuller House. Too wired up about Christmas to sleep.”
“Sure.” I nodded as if I actually believed he’d pass a lie-detector test with that explanation. But I couldn’t make sense out of why they were all waiting up for us like we were sixteen and on our first date. Maybe they really were too keyed up about tomorrow to fall asleep.
“But enough about us. How was your night?” my mom queried, stepping
into the kitchen and glancing eagerly between Will and me.
No, they were definitely waiting up for us. I scratched my head and frowned at her. “It was fine. Right, Will?”
“It was better than fine,” Will said, snaking an arm around my waist. “Drinks with friends. Dancing with my girl. No complaints here.”
I whipped my head toward him. How did he recover so quickly from the most awkward drive in history to seamlessly assume the devoted boyfriend role? I had a feeling he underestimated his talents in improvisation. From where I stood, he was a solid nine and a half.
“Who else was there?” Jordy questioned.
“Leon and Oliver from Will’s class,” I said.
“They asked about you,” Will added.
“Really?” Jordy beamed. If my crush on Will hadn’t lessened with time, neither had Jordy’s hero-worship of Will’s friends.
“And James was there too,” Will said.
My mom clapped her hands together. “Wonderful. What does James think of you two dating?” She glanced pointedly at me.
“We’re holding a summit to discuss it after the New Year,” I muttered, rolling my eyes. Over the years, James and my mother had engaged in plenty of discussions about my taste in men right in front of me as if I weren’t there. Wanting to change the subject almost as much as I wanted my family to go upstairs, I removed the Tupperware of leek patties from the refrigerator and placed them on a paper towel. “You okay with heating these in the microwave?” I asked Will.
Reaching out to grab one, Will said, “No need. I’ll eat it cold.”
I slapped his hand away. “No, you won’t. That’s disgusting. It’ll take one minute to warm.”
When Will pushed his lips together like a scolded little boy, I shook my head at him and smiled. “You’ll thank me later.”
Will tucked a wavy strand of my hair behind my ear and locked eyes with me. “You’re sexy when you boss me around.”
As heat caressed the back of my neck, I dropped my gaze toward the tips of my ballet flats. Was this part of his act, or was he torturing me for the fun of it?
The sound of Jordy clearing his throat jerked me out of my trance. “Banter involving my sister in the context of sex is my cue to go to bed,” he said.
“I’m beat too,” my dad said. Looking around the kitchen in a daze, he added, “I have no idea why I’m still down here to begin with.”
“That makes one of you,” I said to my mother, who was beaming at Will and me like we were a musical duo whose Freestyle single hit the top one hundred on iTunes.
Still grinning, my mom said, “Fine. We’re leaving. Have fun, you two.” On her way out, she tousled my hair and whispered, “He’s a keeper” in my ear.
I gulped. I was pretty sure Sidney thought so too.
Realizing I wasn’t even hungry, I left Will in the kitchen to finish his feast and went upstairs to get ready for bed. Not that I believed for a hot second I’d be able to lower the volume on the confusing thoughts in my head. Could James be right? Was it possible Will had developed feelings for me? Being with Will was one of those dreams I never imagined would come true. It was up there with performing on a Broadway stage or directing my students in a concert before the President of the United States. But that was when I was a kid. I was a grown woman now.
I’d been so certain my crush would make things really awkward between Will and me, at least on my end. I’d imagined myself unable to string two words together, much less talk and laugh as effortlessly as we had these last few days. But at the start of the trip, there had been clear unspoken boundaries—Will was dating Sidney, I was with Perry, and any romantic gestures we shared were faked for the sake of my family. Thirty-six hours later and the boundaries had become blurry—I could no longer tell when Will was pretending and when he was being real. Was this because he’d developed an attraction to me, was it a case of temporary short-term impairment due to drinking, or had I dreamed up all the tension between us? Perhaps it was one sided.
And what about Perry and Sidney? I’d been happy with Perry before Will Brady reentered my life. Hadn’t I? I sat down on the edge of the bathtub, closed my eyes, and concentrated on Perry and all the reasons we worked so well together. He was fun and we both liked to dance. But Will was fun and he liked to dance too. And he was good at it. Perry was more my type in terms of occupation, obviously, but Will had a creative side as well. Maybe we weren’t as different as I thought. It wasn’t as if Perry and I (or any of my past boyfriends for that matter) spent all our time at Broadway shows, dance parties, or sing-a-longs. We engaged in non-artistic activities like going out to dinner and to the movies often too. I opened my eyes and aggressively brushed my teeth. As I took my frustrations out on my toothbrush, I hoped my gums wouldn’t bleed, but I also thought it would serve me right if they did.
Maybe James was right. While I burned away the months with Perry, I wasn’t getting any younger. He was a good time, for sure, but would he be there for me if I needed him? Perry thought a night out could cure all ailments, and sometimes it could, but how about when it couldn’t? Would he stick around? And, more importantly, would I want him to? If the deer-in-headlights reflection staring back at me in the mirror was any indication, it was clear I had no idea. If nothing else, this boyfriend swap experience had given me a lot to think about. James had urged me to talk to Will, but for now, I would leave it alone and get through the remainder of the holiday the best I could. I nodded at myself in the mirror to seal the decision and returned to my bedroom where Will was sitting on the edge of the bed in the process of removing his socks.
“Do you even remember kissing me?” I asked, gasping the second the words slipped off my tongue. Apparently, the pact I’d made with myself to let it go was sealed in non-stick spray.
Will looked up at me with a surprised expression. “Of course I do. Why would I forget?”
I shrugged. “I figured I’d gotten lost in the shuffle with the hundreds of girls you’ve kissed since.”
Will raised an eyebrow. “Hundreds?”
My eyes widened. “Thousands?”
Will shook his head and smiled at me. “I don’t know how I got the reputation of being the Wilt Chamberlain of the Philadelphia suburbs, but I don’t think I’ve reached the three-digit numbers in women I’ve kissed. But if I have and just forgot, I do remember kissing you.”
Feigning nonchalance, I said, “Was just curious,” before pretending to pick something off my closet floor.
“Is that all you wanted to know?”
I closed my eyes and breathed in and out deeply before turning around to face him. “Did you think it was a good kiss?” Although I wished I could crawl into my closet and dig a hole to China, I fought to keep my eyes on him and live up to the boldness of my question.
The corners of Will’s lips turned up slightly and he nodded. “I thought it was a great kiss. Did you?”
What I wanted to say—the truth—was that it was one of the best kisses I’d ever had. I wasn’t so far gone as to have thought about it every day over the last ten years, but whenever I’d think about Will, my pulse instinctively raced in memory of the seconds right before, during, and after the kiss. In slow motion, I’d recall his face coming closer and closer to mine as we met in the middle of the circle and how I closed my eyes at the first brush of his lips against mine. If I tried hard enough, I could still remember how it felt—tender yet intense. “Yes, I did.”
Will’s face lit up for half a second, but the brightness disappeared before I could capture it in my mind and was replaced with an unreadable expression. “I’m exhausted. Mind if we call it a night?” He scooched to the top of the bed and slipped under the covers. “Goodnight, Snow,” he muttered, his eyes already closed.
Further discussion was off the table for the night, which was probably a good thing. My first instinct had been to leave things alone, even
if my mouth had refused to cooperate—why did I have to bring up the stupid kiss? With any luck, or a Christmas miracle, things would be back to normal in the morning.
Chapter 12
Sidney
Perry was gesticulating wildly toward my Aunt Eileen, no doubt regaling her with some whimsical anecdote about his life as a struggling actor. I snuck up behind him, stood on my tippy toes, and kissed the nape of his neck. “Merry Christmas, babe.” As much as I preferred my time without Perry to my time with him, there was only one more day and a single sleep ahead of me before this nightmare of a holiday would be over. I could play the part of the doting girlfriend for twenty-four hours. It was preferable to being recruited by my dad to put in pre-Christmas billable hours. One more day.
Aunt Eileen beamed at me. “Perry wants to direct a group performance of ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas?’ later and said he’d upload it to his YouTube channel. Isn’t that exciting? We’ll be famous,” she yelped before clamping a hand on Perry’s shoulder.
My first thought was: Perry has a YouTube channel? My second thought was: Of course he does. My last thought was: My father would take down the video faster than Perry could unhook a co-ed’s bra. The year before, a Canadian law firm posted a video of the flash mob their attorneys had performed at the Toronto Eaton Centre mall during the holidays. It went viral and there was some buzz at B&B about organizing something similar. My father and Stan called a special meeting, making it clear that any employee who thought making an ass out of himself on social media reflected well on Bellows and Burke could hand in his resignation now. While firing his sisters wasn’t an option, there was nothing to stop him from cutting them out of his will. “My sweetie’s got lots of brilliant ideas up his sleeve. Don’t you, gorgeous?” I said before planting a kiss on his perfectly scruffy cheek. If I didn’t know better, I’d think Perry hired a professional to groom his five o’clock shadow.
Without looking me in the eye, Perry said, “If you say so.” Glancing at his almost-empty glass, he muttered, “I need another Bloody Mary,” and with a parting wink at Aunt Eileen, he walked toward the bar on the other side of the room.
The Boyfriend Swap Page 16
