Page 25 of Mistletoe All the Way

I strike a pose in front of my Christmas tree, jutting out a hip and showing off my emerald-green sequined dress. It comes complete with green-and-white-striped tights, a jaunty little hat, and—naturally—pointed ears.

“Do I look adorable or what?” I ask Phillipa and Aurora as we get ready to head to the library to read Christmas stories to kids. It’s been a couple days since I saw Noah, and I’ve been working nonstop for the hockey team and researching potential Mr. Holiday events.

“Like a sexy elf,” Grandma calls from the kitchen as she pours a cup of tea. “And you two look festively fine too.”

Once a fashion executive, always a fashion executive—and she never misses an excuse to review outfits. Phillipa’s in a matching elf dress. Aurora’s in Mrs. Claus garb.

“Are elves sexy though, Penny?” Phillipa asks, arching a questioning brow Grandma’s way.

From the kitchen doorway, Grandma lifts her cup in a toast. “Darlings, sexy is in how you carry yourselves. But at least you’re not naked, like the last elves I saw on my date. They were Chippendale elves, and I had no notes.”

Wide-eyed and ravenous for details, Aurora swivels toward her. “Your date took you to see stripping elves?”

“Henry is very evolved.” She whips out her phone, showing off a selfie of them from the other night—my grandma with her ivory skin and curious eyes, next to a man with salt-and-pepper hair, deep golden brown skin, sunspots, and smile lines. “Besides, it was foreplay. Something I suspect Aurora knows something about, since I ran into her at Risqué Business the other day.”

Aurora raises both hands in surrender. “Oliver and I enjoy toys.”

“Toys are about the only thing I’ve been enjoying lately,” I mutter.

“Put that on Eloise’s Christmas list. Some D for the holidays,” Grandma says to my friends.

“I’ll add that to my letter to Santa,” I say, shaking my head in amusement as I adjust my elf ears in the foyer mirror.

“It’s not a bad idea, Eloise,” Grandma presses, setting down her teacup on the counter, her cherry-red nails tapping on the edge of it. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

I stare at the ceiling as if I’m counting the days off on a calendar. My last serious boyfriend—Bryan—and I tried to make our relationship last even when he moved to Chicago for work. Or really, I tried. I made the effort with calls, and FaceTimes, and even letters. I flew out to see him, and for a while it seemed like it had worked. Until one last trip, when he told me long-distance wasn’t working for him. It’s just too hard to keep up the feelings, and I’m so sorry but I think I’ve fallen out of love with you. A slice of the throat rather than a long, slow death. It was the so sorry that hurt the most. Like he was truly apologetic.

“Two years and then some,” I answer.

“Then we definitely need to get you a dick in a box,” Aurora says innocently.

“We could wrap it with a pretty bow,” Phillipa offers with a straight face.

“That’s the holiday spirit!” Grandma checks her slim silver watch. “Speaking of, I’ve got a Christmas-kink class tonight. It’s all about incorporating candy canes and ribbons into your love life. Ta-ta for now!”

She grabs her thrifted Fendi handbag and sweeps out of my apartment in a cloud of Opium and ageless audacity.

As the door snicks shut, I glance at my friends. “Maybe I’m doing something wrong if Grandma’s getting more action than me. But I don’t even know how I’d have time to find the guy to go with it. Building this business takes every free minute.”

Phillipa raises a hand as if she’s at church. “Preach.” She’s been dead busy since she manages the diner and its long hours.

Aurora loops her arm through mine. “But it doesn’t mean you’re doing anything wrong. Sometimes work needs to be the focus.”

“True,” Phillipa says, “and you’re building something amazing with your new firm. Look what you did for the hockey team. You made them shine. You’ll do that with Mr. Holiday too.”

I hope so, but then I flash back to dinner with my parents the other night. “When I told my parents about the project for the mayor, my mom said, That sounds like a big challenge. Are you really up for it? They don’t think I can do it.”

Phillipa’s eyes narrow. “Your parents have always been like that. Remember that time they wanted you to memorize the biggest Supreme Court cases?”

I shudder. “And instead we embarked on the how many romcoms can we watch in one night challenge?” I say, thinking fondly of one of our high school sleepovers when the three of us marathoned our way through the film classics.

“It was impressive when we went from Serendipity all the way back to When Harry Met Sally,” Phillipa says, still proud of that accomplishment.

“Honestly, we’re awesome,” I say, grateful to have friends who are more like family than my parents are.

“And you’re definitely up for any challenge,” Aurora adds, as resolute as she was when she vowed to commit light murder for me. “If anyone can come up with something big for the grinch, it’s you.”

I needed that—their support. “Thanks, friends,” I say, then pull them in for an embrace and, of course, a photo of us in front of the sparkling tree.