Page 95 of My Merry Mistake
I narrow my eyes. “Only my friends,” I say.
He holds up a fist in celebration and shouts, “Promotion! Yes!”
I look out the window and hide a smile.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Raya
Over the next several days, I spend a whole lot of time doing a whole lot of nothing.
After Finn and I went to the tutoring club, the team went on the road. I’d expected him to drop me off and go, but in true Finn fashion, he walked me into the house and made me cinnamon toast for the second time since I’ve known him.
Only this time, I ate it, then went and laid down, surprised to discover that I wanted to rest.
The next day, the team went on the road. I told him I was glad I’d finally get a little peace and quiet without him bugging me every day, to which he responded that he would FaceTime me every day, to which I responded that I wouldn’t answer.
Like everything else, he took that in stride.
Surprisingly, it only took a few hours of being awake today for me to rethink the “peace and quiet” claim, because if Finn showed up at my door, at least I’d have something todo.
Thankfully, albeit predictably, my family has been hovering.
And it’s actually been kind of nice.
On Saturday, my mom showed up late morning with bagels and cream cheese—two of my favorite things. I tried to tell her I didn’t need a babysitter and I didn’t want her to give up herentire day for me. Her response? “Raya, I’m your mother, and this is what mothers do. You’d know that if you ever let anyone help you with anything.” And with that, she pushed her way into my house, leaving me standing in the doorway, pondering her comment.
I don’t let her help with anything because I can take care of things myself—not because I’m trying to rob her of the chance to be my mom. She knows that, right?
We ended up sitting on the couch watching Christmas movies the entire day. I’ve never spent an entire day watching television! By the third movie, our commentary had become the real entertainment, and it took three-and-a-half hours to get throughSanta Cluesbecause we kept pausing to laugh at the ridiculous premise.
The heroine—forced back to her small, Midwestern hometown because of a family emergency— is putting her true crime podcasting skills to good use by trying to figure out who’s been going around the town answering all the letters written to Santa.
We figured out after the second scene that it was her old flame from high school, the “one that got away,” mainly because he was the only character with any lines and the only one wearing red and green checkered flannel.
On Sunday, after our usual Hart family dinner, I reached out to two work colleagues to check on the Denim and Diamonds event, but both of my texts went unanswered. That night, I went to a Loveland Town Meeting and tried to volunteer to chair three different Christmas events, but every single time I raised my hand, Poppy grabbed it and pulled it down.
“You canattendthe events,” she hissed. “But you’re not going to be the one in charge of them.”
“I could plan these things in my sleep,” I said. “And it’s important to volunteer.”
“Fine, I’ll sign you up to work the kissing booth,” Poppy whispered.
I glared at her, and then—“There isn’t really a kissing booth, is there?”
She widened her eyes and nodded slowly, wagging her eyebrows. “The Mistletoe Bungalow.”
I shuddered. She giggled.
“I’m so bored,” I’d told her miserably, then went back to listening, but when Margot, Jeremy’s wife, took the stage, I gave myself permission to zone out. I’m not harboring ill will toward Jeremy and Margot, but she’s genuinely not a very nice person. Most of my feelings about her have less to do with Jeremy and more to do with the fact that she bullied Poppy right up until Dallas entered the picture.
Now, she sort of kisses up to my sister, which would be hilarious to watch if Poppy wasn’t so nice in return.
Inwardly, I groan. I should be more like Poppy. I don’t need to be carrying grudges over here. Especially on my sister’s behalf when she’s clearly moved on.
Do better, Raya.
I pull out my phone and see I have a new text. From Finn. I try to be discreet when I open it because I don’t want Poppy to see it. I also silence notifications because, knowing Finn, there will be alotof incoming texts.
