Page 86 of Christmas in Coconut Creek

“Why didn’t you tell me you’re seeing someone, Frankie?” my mother added.

“I’m not.” I shrugged, bumping the door closed with my hip and walking toward the hatchback of Adriana’s SUV. “What’s going on with the two of you?”

“Bullshit!” Addy followed hot on my heels, inserting her petite frame between me and the trunk. “When did you meet her?”

I easily lifted my sister under the arms, dropping her back down with our wide-eyed mother so I could start loading the canvases for her to take to her own apartment. “Meet who?” I played stupid, schooling my face into a brick of indifference.

“The girl that told you exactly what to get us for Christmas.” She poked my arm.

I was apparently as transparent as a glass vase.

“Why didn’t you bring her here?” My mother was at my other side, caging me in like I was a misbehaving dog and they were both trying to figure out what I had in my mouth.

“Is it so hard to believe that I would buy the perfect presents for my family, whom I love and know better than anyone else on this planet?”

“Candles, Francesco.” My sister huffed. “Every single year I expect a candle and a card, sometimes a coffee mug. One year you got real crazy with a T-shirt.”

I pouted. “You loved that T-shirt.”

“I did,” she agreed. “Now spill it.”

“This is ridiculous.”

“She’s not from here,” Adriana guessed.

“Still don’t know what you’re talking about.” I lifted my hat, running my fingers through the thick waves. Damn, I needed a haircut. “You think I need a haircut?” I asked no one in particular. Anything that would get me out of the current conversation.

“She’s not like that last one, is she?” Ma scowled, crossing her arms over her chest. I frowned.

“Nothing like her—”

“Ha!” They both pointed at me in unison.

Mom and Adriana had never looked so much alike, the wide-lipped beam and heralding posture. Same height, same eyes, same haughty expression.

I was prepared to pay for that verbal hiccup for the remainder of the day, probably the rest of my life, really. Now that they knew Ophelia existed it’d be a miracle if my sister didn’t find her on Instagram within the hour, no name necessary.

“I promise it’s not what you guys think it is,” I said. “I’mnotdating anyone.”

“Okay…” Addy slammed the trunk closed and stuck to my side as we raced each other up the driveway. “You’re not dating her, but you’re fucking her.”

“Adriana!” Mom looked near ready to faint.

“Nope, not doing that either,” I confessed, speeding through the side gate that led into the backyard, suddenly wanting to see exactly how much elbow grease would be necessary to get the buckets planted. Hopefully a fuck ton so I had an excuse to skip dinner, because I was no longer hungry or in the mood to talk about my love life and Ophelia any more than I already had. You don’t bring your friend with benefits to Christmas dinner for the same reason you don’t talk about them at Christmas dinner.

Because it’s like metaphorically sitting with your dick out at Christmas fucking dinner.

“Mom.” Adriana paused, eyes widening to saucers. “This one is serious.”

I laughed. “You’re reading so far into this, it’s hilarious.”

“So if it’s nothing, why are you hiding it?”

“It’s not nothing.” I shook that sentiment away. “But it’s notsomething—never mind, can we drop it? She’s not from here, she’s too young for me…”

“How old is she?”

“Not old enough.”

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