Page 72 of Meet Me on Mistletoe Lane

“Gives lessons to kids who want to learn guitar and piano, too,” Nona added. “Nice man.”

“James?” Mr. Bailey turned toward his son. “What’s this about?”

James stared down at his tea. “Nothing.”

But…it’s not nothing. “Your son is an excellent guitar player, sir. I heard him play the other night.” The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them.

James’s eyes shot up. “I thought I saw someone outside. That was you?”

I nodded, my ears now burning. “Sorry,” I whispered.

“It’s okay.” He smiled and then sat up straighter to face his dad, oblivious to the extra twelve pairs of ears that had tuned in to listen. “Yeah, Dad. I played guitar in Chordcrafters. I’ve actually gone back there a couple times. Levi’s cool.”

“Sicily makes the best cannoli,” Aunt Sofia mumbled. “Their ricotta is perfect.”

Mr. Bailey’s jaw ticked. “I thought we spoke about this. How you should be using that time to study. You have college app—”

“I don’t want to go to college.” James moved his hands to his lap. “I’ve told you that. I want to play music—”

“We’ll talk about this later,” Mr. Bailey said, his voice firm.

“Yes, sir.” James swallowed hard before going back to staring at his tea while I sat on my hands to keep them from shaking him.

“Hendrix or Clapton?” Marco asked James, his voice low.

“Neither.” He turned toward my cousin. “B. B. King.”

“Good choice,” Sam said.

Marco nodded. “Agreed.”

The two of them dug into their cannoli, and multiple conversations began to buzz around the table again. Nona and Mom listened intently to Mr. Bailey speak about the “horrific” state of Mr. Paxton’s back taxes on The Market while Uncle Gabe and Uncle Rick argued about who was the best Bond, but I continued to watch the boy across from me. The one who had held his own while in the ring with my cousins but who seemed so hesitant, so scared, to admit what he wanted to do with his life to his own father.

I was surprised at how much I really wanted to know more about him.

“Would you like to go on another date?” I asked, and the room fell quiet again.

A slow smile spread across James’s face as he said, “That depends.” He tilted his head to the side. “Do I get to finally ask you my three questions?”

Bianca leaned forward. “What three quest—”

Aunt Helen shushed her.

“You may,” I said, keeping eye contact. “But you just used up one, so choose your next two carefully.”

Hold up.

Am I flirting?

In front of my family?

And…enjoying it?

James pursed his lips and drummed his fingers on his cup for a long moment before smiling once again. “Yes,” he said. “I’d love to.”

I swear the entire room exhaled.

I know I did.