Page 27 of Bossy Bride: Emma and Jesse

“No. You ask everyone if it will be OK first. Then I’ll call.”

She stops, forcing me to stop with her, because I’ve still got a hold of her hand. “Hold on. Do you not want them here?”

“I do. If they want to come.”

“Why wouldn’t they want to come?”

“It’s just…”

So here’s what it is. Christmas—and all the holidays, actually, even our birthdays—it’s a sore spot for us. Because we tried to get my father interested in celebrating stuff like this when we were younger, and it was always a no. Finally, we just gave up. And I could see it in Johnny’s eyes last night when I brought it up. He didn’t want to think about it. It’s for church, he said. But he knows damn well Christmas is for anyone who wants to participate. Not just people who believe the religious aspects. It’s a tradition, and traditions are whatever you want them to be.

But see… we did make Christmas our own. We decided, as a family, a very long time ago, we didn’t celebrate this holiday. I don’t even know what the original reason was, but it doesn’t matter. Trying to invite all my brothers down here for Thanksgiving involved a very circular and frankly tiresome conversation that I don’t want to repeat.

If they don’t want us all to be together on the holidays, that’s their decision.

“I’m gonna go ask right now. And you’ll see. Everyone will be thrilled.” Emma lets go of my hand and starts powerwalking over to her mother and father, who are standing in front of the giant palm tree, ready to light it up.

The Thanksgiving convo went like this:

Hey, brothers! Now that we’re all reconnected through this bizarre secret-society bullshit, would you like to spend Thanksgiving with my new replacement family in Key West?

Which, OK, probably not the best way to start a conversation about reconnecting our familial ties, but what can I say? I’m a charmer.

They were not impressed, nor were they swayed into participating.

I came to terms with the idea a long time ago that while I do have two brothers, I don’t really have a family. I’m OK with that. Emma has enough family energy to make up for what I missed out on. And also, honestly, I don’t need all my old family baggage following me into this new life.

I’m walking over to Emma to tell her to forget it when I bump right into Miles. “Hey, dude,” I say, tapping him on the shoulder. “What are you doing here? I thought you guys were headed to Vegas?”

Miles smiles at me. And wow, this guy looks totally different when he’s not wearing his jet-butler outfit. Right now he’s wearing faded jeans and a white t-shirt. And for like three whole seconds I think, This is Miles, right? Did I just approach a total stranger and act like we’re friends?

But no, Miles smiles. “Master Jesse. Nice to see you in a more personal atmosphere. Christopher and I are heading out later tonight and we’ll be ready for Sin City by morning.”

I point at him. “Can’t miss out on this good time, right?”

“Exactly, sir.” He leans in towards me. “But if I may ask…”

“Ask away.”

“What is Miss Emma up to?”

We both swing our gazes over to Emma, who is chatting with her mom near the tree as her father talks into a microphone, counting down from ten as he holds the switch to turn on the palm tree lights.

“Don’t ask, dude. It’s a whole fiasco that involves Joey and Johnny Boston.”

“Understood, sir,” Miles says. Just as Emma breaks away and starts heading back towards us, her father gets to one, the tree lights up, and the whole street erupts in a loud cheer.

“Hey, Miles!” Emma shouts over the cheers. Then to me, “Come on. I told you she’d say yes!”

“But Alonzo—”

She’s already tugging me over to the tree. “Forget Alonzo. He’s not in charge of anything. When my mother makes a decision, it’s a done deal.” She stops in front of the tree and positions me in between Tony and Zach. Zach and I do a little head-nod greeting. Then cameras start flashing and I realize we’re in the middle of a photoshoot.

Probably gonna be in the paper tomorrow.

Can’t outrun the fucking news. No matter how hard I try.

Emma is talking the whole time. “Call them right now. In my mother’s mind, they should be here already. Tell them…”