“Seriously,” Francesca says as she grabs Asher’s hand, pulling him off the stairs. He stumbles into the spot next to me. “You two are perfect for each other. Ash, you did good.”

On our way through the lobby, I steal a snickerdoodle off a tray by the Christmas tree. They’re soft and chewy and sugary sweet. I kick myself for not grabbing another.

Francesca, on the other hand, pas de bourrees and chasses through creative directors and executive producers, completely bypassing the dessert table. She smiles and waves, owning the room and making it her stage. I’m about to give her a standing ovation.

“You’re looking at her like you just realized you picked the wrong ex to fake date,” Asher says.

“She’s hot as hell,” I say. “I wouldn’t kick her out of bed.”

“Olivia.”

“What? You must agree on some level. You real dated her.”

“Yeah,” he coughs lowly as we cross onto the patio, a blast of cold air greeting us. “I’m not sure that she’d agree that it was real.”

I frown, looking up at him. His nose is the same shade of pink as his cheeks and he’s biting his lips to keep his teeth from chattering.

“I don’t think that’s true.”

I saw the look on his face the night of the tree lighting. Whatever feelings Asher had for Francesca, they were real. There are some things in life that you just can’t fake—knowing calculus, liking tequila, and the complete devastation of watching someone you love move on with someone else.

But, for now, I leave Asher’s buttons unpushed. We have more pressing matters to tend to, like a bucket of carrots and a reindeer named Prancer.

“Look at them!” I take Asher’s hand and drag him towards the crowd. We leave hurried footprints in the dusting of snow, and I grab a handful of carrots before stopping in front of a reindeer that looks Vitamin A drunk. “Aren’t you just the cutest?”

“His breath smells worse than yours,” Asher says.

“You can insult me all you want,” I say, scratching Prancer under his ear. “But leave him out of it.”

Asher snarls at the animal, who has started nudging his hand for any carrots that he might be holding out on.

“He likes you!”

“He has a poor judge of character,” Asher mumbles.

“Stop,” I laugh as Prancer licks Asher’s hand. “Have you thought about getting a pet? I think you’d really benefit from the companionship.”

“I like being alone,” he says. “So don’t get any ideas. I’m fairly certain you can’t Amazon Prime a puppy.”

“Oh, c’mon,” I laugh. “Even the Grinch had a dog.”

“I like living my life without having to worry about someone else’s needs.”

I hum. “You seemed pretty worried about me last night.”