Page 8 of The Santa Situation
I blinked. “That’s … a very random question.”
“It’s not random,” Lilah countered. “Maisey’s mom got divorced three years ago, and she’s already engaged again. She was out there playing the field.”
“Playing the field?” I repeated, fighting back a laugh.
She flopped back against the cushions with a smirk. “I’m just using language that old people like you can understand.”
I sighed. “This is you getting me back for saying your Uncle Nate has no rizz, isn’t it?”
She chuckled. “Maybe. And you didn’t answer Maggie’s question. If Maisey’s mom found love again, so can you.”
I set the costume aside. “Maisey’s mom joined three different dating apps and went on like a hundred first dates.”
I knew because I had been one of them. Suffice it to say, there hadn’t been a second. A thirty-five percent match on Luke Byron’s dating app should have been enough for Delia to knowwe weren’t a good fit, but the woman wore me down until I said “yes” just to get her to stop asking.
“She was motivated,” Maggie said.
“She was something,” I muttered under my breath as they shared another conspiratorial look.
Then Maggie dropped a real bomb. “You should ask Mrs. Price out.”
“Jemma?”
“Duh,” Lilah snarked.
“You want me to date Eli’s mom?” I asked, feeling that familiar fizz in my veins whenever I thought about her.
“I just said that, didn’t I?” Maggie asked with a roll of her eyes. “Do you need me to speak up? Is it time to get your hearing checked again?”
Lilah snickered.
“Har, har. Very funny,” I deadpanned.
“So, Mrs. Price?” Maggie pressed. “You should ask her out.”
I’d come to that same conclusion not even two hours ago, but I couldn’t deny I was curious to hear whytheythought it was a good idea.
I sat back in my chair, attempting to school my face into a serious expression. “All right then. Give me three good reasons why I should ask out one of my oldest friends.”
“Easy,” Lilah said, holding up one finger. “Number one, she makes you smile.”
“Lots of people make me smile,” I countered.
“Not the way Mrs. Price does,” Maggie said quickly. “It’s different. It’s… ” She squinted and wrinkled her nose, clearly searching for the right word. “Schmoopy,” she eventually settled on.
I barked out a laugh. “Schmoopy?”
“Yeah,” Lilah said, nodding emphatically. “Like, the kind of smile where your face gets all soft and your eyes go all—” she flapped her hands around her face “—gooey.”
“I don’t do gooey,” I protested.
“Yousodo,” Maggie said, grinning. “And we have proof.”
“Oh, this I have to see.”
Maggie dug her phone out of her hoodie pocket, thumbs flying across the screen before she leaned forward with it turned toward me. “Proof,” she said, her voice triumphant. “Taken last week.”
I leaned forward, expecting something completely harmless, but the image on the screen stopped me cold.
