Page 10 of Once Upon A Christmas Song

She was quiet a moment. “You think I’m funny?”

“Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“And Michael always laughs at your jokes.”

“That’s true.”

“For a neurosurgeon, he’s very pretty,” I reminded her.

“He is. A bit.”

“And one of these days, he’s going to say to your mother at dinner, ‘Sheryl, why won’t your daughter marry me?’”

She flipped me off.

“You’re gonna be in big trouble,” I assured her. “Huge.”

Her gaze met mine. “Enjoying your Pretty Woman impression over there?”

“I am. Yes.”

She groaned.

“And she’s right, you know. You really aren’t getting any younger.”

I got the double bird that time.

“Now, I don’t agree with Sheryl that you should stop working and should instead get married and then pregnant, but of course, we have one kid at work, so we can easily have another.”

“I hate you right now.”

“You’re the one lying to your mother,” I reminded her.

Her eyes fluttered.

“More importantly, you’re paying rent for something you don’t even use.”

She grunted. “That part is valid. I could use that money to go toward my partner buy-in, which would be smart.”

We were silent for a moment.

“You should take over my place. I know you love it,” she suggested. “And that apartment you’re in is much too small for you.”

I scoffed. “It’s perfect for me, and you know it. I’m hardly ever there except to sleep, it’s mostly quiet, I don’t have roaches because the spiders eat them, and it’s not haunted.”

She looked pained. “None of those things should be selling points, especially the spiders.”

“Your place is too much room for one person and⁠—”

“Never mind, let’s not go round and round again. Just, tomorrow you’ll call the booker and we’ll figure out our lives.”

There was nothing to do but agree.

Now, as I sat across from the talent booking agent, Evelyn Ewing, wondering if her parents had specifically searched for an E name to go with Ewing, I had the strangest feeling this was the wrong move. And that made no sense. It was clearly the right thing to do. Just because I’d never done it this way before didn’t mean it was wrong. Sometimes you had to jump even if you weren’t sure. But then I noticed Simone.

Her head was tipped slightly, her eyes narrowed. All the contracts were in front of her, spread out because she was supposed to be looking them over and then passing them to me to sign. Our lawyer, Charlie Meredith, had checked them earlier in the day, reported back that they were quite standard, and given us the go-ahead. So basically, we were good to go, except that Simone had neither slid the paperwork over to me nor passed me the pen.