Page 100 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

Because sometimes the biggest revolutions aren't in corporate culture.

They're in learning to trust love again.

Even the sticky parts.

I tug Alex closer and smile at the thought.

Especially the sticky parts.

31

MAKING NEW TRADITIONS

ALEX

No amount of corporate strategy can prepare you for hosting both your bachelor friends and your girlfriend's Italian family at your mountain cabin on New Year's Eve.

Especially when Keith's revolutionary choir keeps practicing what he calls "A Love Story in Four-Part Harmony" in the great room.

"The acoustics in here are perfect for expressing corporate passion!" Keith announces, adjusting his party-themed beret. "Though we might need more tinsel for the choreography."

Through the cabin's windows, snow falls steadily on the private ridge, transforming everything into the kind of winter wonderland that usually only exists in holiday movies. Inside, the scent of Nonna's cooking mingles with wood smoke and what I'm pretty sure is New Year’s spirit.

"Your DevOps guy is teaching my security team protest songs," Grayson’s brown eyes wander to where we're allegedly monitoring the situation. "Should I be concerned?"

"Probably." I take another sip of the wine Nonna insisted was 'necessary for proper celebration.' "Though not asconcerned as I am about Connor learning pasta-making techniques."

Across the open kitchen, Connor stands at the counter wearing one of Nonna's spare aprons, his usually perfect dark-blond head of hair dusted with flour as she teaches him the "proper" way to knead dough.

"Your technique lacks passion!" she critiques. "The dough must feel your soul!"

"I'm a tech CEO," Connor protests. "My soul is mostly coffee and cryptocurrency."

"Bah! This is why you're single!"

In a softy oversized brown sweater that matches her cocoa irises, Mac catches my eye from where she's setting up the dessert table with her sisters, and her smile still hits me like that first glass of champagne.

"You're staring again," Grayson notes. "Like a lovesick freshman at his first formal."

"I am not?—"

"Speaking of lovesick," Connor calls out, somehow covered in more flour than the dough he's kneading, "whatever happened to that Cartier bauble that you?—?”

I shoot him a warning look that stops him in his tracks, but Mac's already disappeared into the pantry with Lucia, out of earshot.

"Still in the safe," I admit to Gray quietly. "Timing wasn't right."

"Timing?" Grayson raises an eyebrow. "Or courage?"

"Neither." I watch the snow fall harder outside, remembering how Mac looked in my arms on Christmas morning, all sauce stains and vulnerability and full pink lips. "Just... waiting for the right moment."

"Right moment for what?" Her dark hair swinging behind her in a sleek ponytail, Mac’s older Sofia appears with more wine, because apparently Gallos have radar for both relationshipdiscussions and inadequate alcohol supplies. “Look, I’m kid-less tonight, and my husband is already three sheets to the wind, so somebody indulge me, for heaven’s sake.”

Connor clears his throat. “Uh, the right moment for admitting the bachelor pact is officially dead," he says, earning an approving nod from Nonna. "Also, am I doing this right? The dough feels... aggressive."

"Like your stock options!" Keith calls out. "A metaphor for corporate resistance!"

"No revolutionary metaphors in my kitchen!" Nonna brandishes her wooden spoon. "Only passion and proper technique!"

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