Page 21 of A Real Man for Christmas

Isla beamed at the praise. “You saw that? Yeah, thanks. It got some attention. It sold—did the best of any of my paintings so far.”

“That’s fantastic. Congratulations. I’m so proud of you for going after your dream like that.” His eyes touched on me and quickly slid away.

She glanced at me and back at him. “How’s your work going? London, right? That must be amazing.”

His brow furrowed, and his jaw tightened. “Good, yeah. Amazing.” Was he purposely avoiding eye contact with me? I stared at him. Yes, just how was London? Was it worth losingus? The us that could’ve been if he’d stayed? “I…I’ve achieved a lot. It’s been a valuable experience—”

“We’ve got to go.” I tugged Isla by the arm. I didn’t want to stay and hear how much London was totally worth breaking my heart for.

His head drew back. “I’ll let you guys get on with it. I left something back in the room, anyway.” He pivoted in the direction of his room. Great. This way we wouldn’t be obligated to share an elevator ride with him. “Good to see you. Both.” His gaze flicked to mine before he turned around and walked back down the hall.

I pulled Isla to the elevators before she tried to get him to chat more. And definitely before she did something stupid like invite him to go with us.

∞∞∞

Isla whisked me away to the Statue of Liberty in true Isla fashion—with a lot of whimsical stops in between. Turned out she’d built in extra time to get there so we could see other stuff on the way. A muffin from her favorite bakery, a newspaper from her favorite newsstand, and a smile from her favorite cop, with subway trains in between, and we were there at the harbor.

And we were taking a boat. And what a boat.

“This isn’t a boat. It’s a pirate ship!” I told her, my voice choked with awe.

She laughed. “It’s not a pirate ship, it’s a clipper ship.”

“It looks like a pirate ship.”

“It’s not. It’s a clipper ship. But you can pretend it’s a pirate ship. I’m sure lots of the other kids do.”

“I will. And we’re going to see the Statue of Liberty from that thing?”

“Yes, we are. Just like the immigrants who first came to America on a boat. But with more alcohol.”

I gave her a look. “Before nine in the morning?”

“Yes, ma’am. A little birdie told me you’ve been under a lot of stress lately.” Her eyes glittered with sarcasm. “It’s time for you to cut free a bit. Loosen up. Have some fun.” She linked her arm through mine.

“In a frigid, aquatic location. Why are we even doing this in December? It’ll be extra cold on the water.”

“Because December is when you’re here. So I made it happen. They don’t usually run this tour past early November, but I got it to go, especially for us.” She shrugged. “I know a guy.”

“Oh, good.” I tried to look grateful through my sudden bout of shivers.

She bumped my hip with hers. “Come on. We’ll have fun.”

I bumped her back. “We always do.”

Half an hour later, I was sitting on a crate on the pirate ship with my third margarita in my hand, fully considering walking the plank to get a better picture of Lady Liberty.

I downed the rest of my drink and handed the empty glass to Isla. “I’m gonna take a picture. Lots of pictures. I mean, look at her awesome bosom. It’s enormous.” I stared down at my chest. “I wonder if mine looks super big, too, from below. My bosom.” I giggled at the word and put my hand over my mouth for the small hiccup that followed. “Oops,” I said as I teetered unsteadily to my feet. “The waves arerough.”

Isla put a hand on my elbow, supporting me. “There aren’t any waves, Margot. The boat is perfectly still. It’s you who’s rocking.”

“Thasss right,” I said, hearing my slur even as I made it. I would’ve thought the muffin I ate would’ve soaked up more alcohol. “I’m rocking. So rocking, of course Josh would want to get with all this.”

Isla gave me a look that appeared to be equal parts pity and doubt. The doubt hurt more. I wasn’t in love with Josh. He was the one after me. Texting me. Asking me to dinner. I was in love with someone else. Of course I was. There was no reason I couldn’t get Josh if I wanted to. I just didn’t want to.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said to Isla’s doubt-and-pity look.

“I didn’t say anything,” she said.

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