“No need to play games, then. For a guy, what you say is what you mean. If you say you were flirting with this dude, Richard will believe you. He won’t think you were really obsessing over him the whole time, and only telling him it was a flirt to keep him on his toes…” Diego throws me an overcritical side stare. “He’s not going to realize how lucky he is to have you; he’ll just assume you weren’t that into him at the time of the trip. My suggestion is to tell the truth and give the guy’s ego a little boost. You’ll send him to London happy with a big, goofy smile on his face.”

I hear Blair tapping on the phone and narrow my eyes at her in the rearview mirror. “Are you taking his advice over mine?”

She shrugs. “He’s a guy.”

Her phone chimes back a second later.

“So, what did Richard say?” I ask.

“Sent me the ‘cool’ emoji with the sunglasses, and a shower of kisses, and says he loves me.”

“I’m getting diabetes,” I say, smiling, and change the subject. “Before we get home, you need to be up to date on our narrative.”

“What narrative?” Blair asks.

“How Diego and I met, our first date, how long we’ve been together, and so on…”

“Oh, so we’re not telling people you picked him off a catalog?” she jokes.

“Blair, be serious, you have to memorize everything we tell you, and we only have about two hours.”

She pokes her head between the front seats to speak to Diego. “Don’t you hate her when she’s this bossy?” she asks him.

His only response is to throw back his head and let out a throaty laugh.

This is going to be the longest week of my life.

Eleven

There’s No Place Like Home for the Holidays

Too soon for my cranky nerves, I’m pulling onto my street. The neighborhood in which Blair and I grew up resembles the perfect Christmas dream fairy tale at this time of the year—or nightmare, depending on one’s feelings toward the holidays. Rows and rows of perfectly-curated townhomes and gardens coated in dusty snow, mercilessly decorated to the death.

My house, in particular, could win the go-absolutely-nuts-with-fairy-lights competition. There isn’t a single tree or shrub that isn’t supporting some kind of illumination contraption. And on the lawn, they’ve scattered sparkly reindeers and a huge light-up sleigh. Even in daylight, the house is blinding, I wonder what it’ll do at night. Guess my mom ran off the bat with her daughters bringing home a fiancé and a new boyfriend, respectively.

I kill the car’s engine and turn back toward Blair. “Here we are.” She lives just across the street. “Are you coming over tonight after dinner?”

“Definitely,” Blair says, clipping on Chevron’s leash.