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“I think they’ll love you. Laci hates men and she hardly hates you at all.”

“That’s actually reassuring, what with the whole Etsy witch thing.”

I cracked up.

“Yes, I’d love to come to your party. But I think we have to figure out a better conspiracy,” he said.

“Why?”

“Because half of a thousand dollars is better than half of five hundred?”

I laughed. “Okay. We’ll talk conspiracies on the way to Little Christmas.”

The corner of his lip quirked up. Then he sighed and pulled out his phone.

“What?” I said, watching him wake up his screen.

“I gotta show you the picture.”

“What picture? The Ben Stiller thing?”

“Yeah,” he said, swiping through an album. “I didn’t want to have to do this, but you should know what kind of idiot you’re going out with.”

He found the image and held his phone to his chest. “This is a trust exercise.”

“For who?” I said, amused.

“Definitely me.”

He blew out a dramatic breath like he was jumping into ice water, then he showed me his phone.

I stared at it a moment. Then I burst into laughter. “Matty!”

“I know,” he muttered.

“That’s not Ben Stiller.”

“I know.”

“That’s Adam Sandler.”

He blinked at me. “What?”

I took his phone and made the photo bigger and showed him. “That’s Adam Sandler.”

He took the phone from me and stared at it. “Oh my God…” His eyes went wide. “That is Adam Sandler!”

I was laughing again.

“No wonder he let me take a picture with him!”

“Yeah. He was a famous movie guy, just not the one you thought.”

He grinned at me. “I met Adam Sandler. This is so cool.”

I bit my lip. I loved him.

I leaned forward and gave him a little peck and he smiled and wrapped his arms around me and settled us into the sofa, my cheek to his chest.