Page 104 of Going Viral for Christmas
“EMILYYYYY!” I shriek.
We launch ourselves at each other with a high-pitched, best-friend squealing that could crack stained glass. Bags drop. Hair tangles. Soren flinches like he’s stumbled into an exorcism.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming home for Thanksgiving!” I hug her so tight she squeaks.
“I wanted it to be a surprise!” She hugs back. “You know what else is a surprise?” She breaks free. “This tall drink of sex appeal is standing in your foyer.”
My face goes up in flames.
“You didn’t mention anything about taking him home to meet your parents!”
“It’s not—he’s not—it’s complicated.”
Eyes wild with glee, Emily leans in. “It’s horny. That’s what it is. I get it.”
Soren gives a little wave, a half-grin tugging at his mouth as he tries to follow the conversation.
Emily turns to him. “Hi! I’m Emily. Just flew across the country, got frisked by TSA—which, not gonna lie, was oddly affirming—and sprinted through three terminals to make it here. So, hello. Big fan of your face.”
A hand runs through his hair. “I… uh–thank you?”
She points two fingers at his chest. “I’ve got questions. So many questions. And follow-ups.”
“Too late now!” G-Ma trills into the kitchen. “Corn pudding’s in the oven, and I whipped up extra cream for Ava’s boyfriend. He's a man who’s no stranger to dessert… or whipped cream. Are ya, honey?” She winks.
Soren’s mouth twitches. “I love this level of hospitality.”
“You’re about to get all of it, in 4-D surround sound.”
He grins at me, soft eyes and stupid charm, like walking into the crazy that is my family, is exactly where he wants to be.
We’re barely through the door to the dining room before G-Ma’s thrusting a plate of pecan pralines at Soren and pulling out a deck of cards. The Great Dalmuti. Our family’s preferred battleground.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask mom.
“It’s his weekly poker game.” She uncorks a bottle of wine. “So, Soren has all of us girls to himself. And Fisher.”
Soren turns to me. “So, basically, I’m outnumbered?”
Nodding, I pat his shoulder and walk away.
A few hours later, we’re gathered around the dining table: my mom, G-Ma, Fisher, Emily, me, and Soren—who, thanks to beginner’s luck or actual dark magic, has become the reigning Dalmuti three rounds in a row.
“Of course he’s good at this,” I mutter under my breath as I collect the Peon hat for the fourth time.
G-Ma leans in with a sharp elbow to my ribs. “Well, maybe if you’d focus less on huffing and more on strategy, Ava Bean, you wouldn’t be losing to yourfuture husband.”
I fake a laugh and shoot Soren a look that should’ve engulfed him in a fit of flames.
Raising a brow, his grin turns lazy, gorgeous. “Honestly, I’m grateful that you all let me join. This is the most fun I’ve had in a long time.”
My mom beams. “You’re a delight, Soren. So well-spoken. And tall. Strong. So intelligent.”
“I’m literally right here,” I deadpan.
She waves me off. “Yes, yes, we know. We’ve seen you lose four times in a row. Let the man have a moment.”
Fisher snorts into his beer. “Can we make him our permanent Dalmuti? Forever?”
