Page 181 of Going Viral for Christmas
I’ve salvaged some of Camille’s dignity by putting on a shirt after my bare-chested stunt I pulled earlier, when I ripped off Camille’s tragic attempt at an ugly Christmas sweater. Crisp, black, fitted—safe. Something that doesn’t get me a million views on ShelfSpace, like my torso does. Well, one million four hundred thousand thirty-two to be exact.
We are now at a twinkle-lit mixer in one of the hotel’s luxury lounges, complete with mulled wine, book-themed cocktails, and a curated cheese board.
Ava moves across the room to post up near the fireplace, drink in hand, laughing with Fisher and a debut author wearing a cape. Her cheeks are glowing. Her smile is real. She looks so goddamn beautiful happy.
A nudge at my shoulder. Matthew.
He’s nursing a glass of a bourbon-based cocktail, eyes tracking Ava, running calculations.
“You two holding up okay after the whole Lena Laceration?” he asks, nonchalantly, as though we didn’t get verbally shanked in front of half the industry.
“My definition of okay might differ from yours.”
He grins. “She hasn’t set you on fire yet. That’s a promising start.”
My eyes drift back to Ava. She’s throwing her head back in laughter now—God, that sound—it’s champagne uncorked, bright and effervescent, fizzing straight through my veins until I’m drunk on nothing but her.
“So, you’re really in it, huh?” Matthew sips his bourbon and watches me watch her. He’s studying me, cataloging everything, posture, breath, expressions. Classic Matthew.
“I’m in something, alright.”
Shaking his head, he laughs, takes a sip from his glass. “You’re in deep, man. You’ve gotthelook.”
“What look?”
“The one you used to make fun of me for when I saw Christina get out of the car in that ‘Good Trouble’ shirt. I was a man watching his emotional downfall walk across a parking lot in pink heels.”
“I remember that day vividly.”
Matthew’s gaze shifts. Ava. Back to me. Ava again.
“She’s hot,” he comments.
“Careful.” Arching a brow, I side-eye him, blood sparking.
“I’m married. Not blind.” He takes his phone out of his pocket, glances at it, then slips it back in. “But that’s not what I meant. She’s got spunk.”
“Yeah, she definitely does.”
“And you like that?”
“Ilovethat.”
Still assessing me, Matthew hums. “Not gonna lie. I figured you’d write through this little crush of yours. But now that I’m here… and she’s here… and I’m watching you, and…” He turns his full attention to me. “…So, is this the one?”
My lips press together. Ava is now crouching to sign a fan’s book on the armrest of a velvet chair. She points to her signature. They giggle as if they just got away with something dirty. It melts my heart.
Ava finds me watching, and softens. I refocus my attention on Matthew. “I’m all in for this one.”
He studies me for another beat. “Okay.”
“Okay?”
“I mean, I’ve got more questions. For instance, when the hell did you become a panty-melter with principles? But okay.”
“You’re not going to interrogate her?”
“I might. But not tonight. She’s happy. And you look like a man who finally realized the life he once thought was out of reach was waiting for him all along.”
