Page 56 of Minted

“How many holiday parties does the world need?” I ask. “Actually, don’t answer that. I love holiday parties.”

“So. . .you will come? Or are you busy?”

“Wait, who else is coming?”

“I have no idea,” Dave says. “And actually, Seren specifically told me not to invite you, but she said I can call and invite Bernie and her idiot friend Corey, who is definitely not getting a call, so I figured I’d pretend that I misheard.”

Wait, she specifically told him not to invite me? That doesn’t sound like Seren. But. . .if her friend told her not to invite me. . . She’s as loyal as a lion.

“Is Barbara coming?”

“How should I know?” Dave asks. “Do I sound like the ghost of Christmas future?”

“You sound like you know nothing helpful,” I say.

“Why are you such a grouch lately? Are you auditioning for Scrooge in a community theater? Geez.”

“I’m not—” I should tell someone, right? No. Yes. “I—”

“You’re suffering from cat-got-your-tongue-itis? Did that wife of Emerson convince you to adopt a cat, too? She’s a pusher, I swear. I told Seren that if she adopts another cat, I’m going to leave her.”

“You won’t.”

“But she doesn’t know that,” Dave says.

“Yes, she does.”

“You suck, Bentley. Now I know why Seren doesn’t want you here.” Dave swears under his breath. “If you do come, take a good look at our cats. Two was more than enough, and they got along fine. But when Seren heard there was this Bengal whose elderly owner couldn’t manage him—”

“I don’t want a cat.”

“I said that too, but no one listens to me,” Dave says. “So, if you happen to see one who’s really, really pretty, I would be willing to part with him. He has green eyes, and he bites your leg if you’re too slow to feed him. Not hard, but like, it’s annoying.”

“You’re doing a great job selling me on him.”

“Well, you like a dog who’s constantly knocking people over and insists on running every day when you hate to run, so who knows what might win you over?”

“I like Barbara.”

Complete silence, which I didn’t think was possible with Dave on the other end. I’ve never met a guy who talks as much as he does.

“Did you hear me?”

“I’m sorry, please hold. I’m still processing.”

“Process faster.”

“Right. Sorry. So you don’t want a cat that bites your leg affectionately, but you do like Barbara, Seren’s oldest friend. The one who just got divorced and is now fostering two little girls whose mother recently died.”

“Yes.”

“And you’re definitely not supposed to know this, but Barbara’s ex is coming over tonight to try and win her back, so now I’m starting to see why Seren told me that you shouldn’t come. I’m going to have to rescind my ill-advised invite, and tell you that we’re busy tonight.”

“I’ll be there.”

“I’m so screwed,” Dave says. “I didn’t realize why Seren said you can’t come, but now I get it. I really think—”

“Dave.”

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