I’m running a little late, so I’m going to have to drive straight over to Seren’s house from here, or I might miss all of Killian’s party. There aren’t many things in life right now that are zero stress for me, but being around Seren’s family is one of them. Their family’s a mishmash of broken people, but somehow their house still manages to be one of the most healing places in the country, I’m convinced.

  I’m cramming the third cookie in my mouth when the elevator doors open.

  James and Kristy are standing inside, holding hands. Both of them turn to stare at me, their eyes widening in tandem, like they’re some kind of choreographed mime act. “Oh.” Kristy’s eyes glance down at the sleeve of cookies in my hand.

  I whip it behind my back. “I missed lunch because I was planning—” I glare at James, chew, and swallow.

  “I forgot my purse upstairs.” Kristy giggles.

  I don’t hate her. I really don’t. She’s petite, and thin, and she’s reasonably competent at her job. I try my hardest to be an empowered woman and not hate the woman just because my ex is gross and now she’s dating him. But grown women should not giggle like they’re teenagers. They just shouldn’t.

  I toss my head and wait for them to get out so I can get in.

  They finally do, and they should be headed for her office. But as the doors close, I hear James muttering something. I don’t catch all of it, but he’s clearly making a comment about how he’s glad we’re not going down at the same time, because with me there, we might exceed the weight limit.

  I want to punch him in the nose.

  One of the best things about our divorce is that I don’t have to hear his thoughts on my weight any more. But hearing him at work, mocking me to his new girlfriend? It really sucks.

  By the time I get to the bottom floor, I’m bawling.

  When I met James, I was a svelte size six with curves in all the right places. He came over to New York on a work visa, and he was the guy in the office that every girl swooned over. When he liked me, I was shocked.

  We dated for several years—until a problem came up with his visa, so we got married. It made sense. He got to stay, and we could be together.

  But then my mom died. After my dad died a few months later, I went from really, really sad to entirely depressed. I also discovered that when I’m sad, I eat. I ballooned from a size six to more than double that. I still run a few times a week. I still feel pretty good, unless I’m looking in a mirror.

  Or being mocked on an elevator.

  I did try to lose the weight, especially when James started saying that it bothered him. I tried Weight Watchers. I tried the keto diet plan. I even tried strange things, like the potato diet. None of it worked. The only thing that made me feel better was sweets, and the more James harped and complained, the more I needed to feel good about myself sometime. It was a very bad cycle.

  Not that I’ve lost any weight since we broke up, either.

  Once the holidays are past, I’m going to start over—calorie counting this time. But I just can’t navigate work and holiday stress while eating nine hundred calories per day. I’ll rip someone’s head off and wind up in prison. Also, when I’m dieting, I don’t have the energy to run, so I know it’s healthier to lose some weight, but there are definitely trade-offs there, too.

  I know all of that. I’m a smart woman.

  And I’m still bawling in my car when I get to Seren’s house. Which is why I sit outside for a few extra minutes and go in really late. My best friend Seren, unlike me, looks exactly the same as she ever has.

  When we were young, I was the one who had the best figure—thin with a large chest. But now, she’s still thin with a moderate bosom, and she looks elegant beside. My chest is sagging and my stomach is bulging, and if she weren’t the perfect friend, I might resent her for it.

  No one in the world could dislike Serendipity Colburn Fansee.

  The second she sees me, her eyes light up and she rushes over to hug me. “When are you going to quit that job? You’re working too much.” She’s wearing an apron, and I can smell the peach cobbler already.

  “You made cobbler.”

  She shrugs. “It’s Killian’s favorite.”

  “It’s a birthday party,” I say. “You should make the boy eat cake.”

  Seren points at the table, and I notice a large chocolate cake, already covered with brightly colored candles.

  “Bless you.”

  Because unlike James, Seren never judges me on how I look or what I’m eating. If she saw me eating Girl Scout cookies, she’d just hold out her hand for one. Depending on the kind, of course. She’s absurdly picky.

  “Barbara.” Dave’s smiling as he shoots out the hall. “Another responsible adult. Thank goodness.”

  “Where are the kids?” I ask.

  Seren sighs. “Killian has been praying every day for nice weather.”

  I blink. “Does he pray?” The boy was an absolute heathen when they took him in.

  Dave laughs. “Not really, no. But we told him that if the weather was nice, he could have the party in the back garden without any of us hovering. Apparently when you’re turning fifteen, the idea of having parents or their friends standing around is scarier than talking about safe sex with your dad.”

  I laugh. “Do you talk about safe sex a lot?”

  “The only safe sex is not to have it,” Seren says, her face very intent.

  Dave pulls a face, like they’ve had this argument before.

  Seren says, “But hopefully none of that will come up tonight.”

  The front door swings open, and I turn, hoping it’s Killian.

  Instead, Bentley Harrison strides in like he owns the place—he does that literally everywhere. But he’s as close to Dave as I am to Seren, so for about fourteen years now, we’ve been at every family gathering together. He’s brought women with him off and on. I’ve brought a few guys too—most recently, James—but the two of us have always been here. Except for the months at a time when he was traveling, I guess.

  Usually Bernie and his wife are around too—but I think they’re at his in-laws this weekend. If I remember right, Killian’s birthday is the same as Bernie’s wife. He misses Killian’s party a lot.

  I’m actually surprised Bentley’s here, too. He travels a lot.

  “Back from Spain?” I ask.

  “France,” he says. “Better pastry, worse seafood.”

  I frown. “Does France really have worse seafood?”

  Bentley shrugs. “Who knows? I hate seafood.”

  Classic Bentley. He’s more of a meat and potatoes kind of guy. “So are you going back to Europe again soon?”

  He shakes his head. “Actually, I was only there for five days this time. Earlier this year I hired someone to take over most of the travel for me. I only fly for really big meetings at this point.”

  “I bet that guy’s not cheap,” Seren says.

  “The good people never are,” Bentley says. “But in this case, it’s a woman. She’s a real battle-axe, and blessedly, she loves traveling.”

  “I thought you liked traveling,” I say.

  He shrugs. “I used to, but I’m getting older, and I’m kind of sick of it. I shouldn’t have to leave again until January at the soonest, unless something goes wrong.”

  Something occurs to me, then. Maybe I could ask Bentley to be my plus one. Not as a date, but as a shield. He’ll be around. He’s an old friend. And he’s not at all embarrassing. . .

  He’s rich, brilliant, handsome, and successful. That might actually be enough to offset the fistful of cookies in the elevator, at the very least. Now I just have to find the right time to ask him for a favor. . .

  3

  Bentley

  Dave’s family has always known me as the uncle who gives the perfect gifts. Since I’m going to Killian’s fifteenth birthday party, the pressure is on. And right after that comes Christmas.

  Ugh.

  When I was fifteen, all I wanted was a car. Of course, I couldn’t get one. Even back then, you had to be sixteen to drive. But he can get his permit soon, so maybe a car related item would go over well?

  With their first kid, Emerson, it was pretty easy to think of things. That kid’s always been a nerd, and he’d never had anything in his life. The bar was set pretty low. I think I brought him a scientific calculator for his thirteenth birthday, and he was giddy. Fourteenth was a microscope. Then a telescope. And when he could drive, I bought him one of those cop-detectors.

  But they’ve raised Emerson, Beatrice, Jake, and Ardath. I had to find gifts for each. It was fine. I did it. But now it’s Killian too, and with five kids to find presents for every birthday and Christmas, finding something unique and meaningful just gets harder and harder. Poor Killian has a birthday right before Christmas, so it feels even worse. I have to come up with two decent things back-to-back.

  To make matters worse, whatever I buy can’t outshine his parents. I learned that one the hard way, when I bought Bea a car. Whoops. Now I have to spend a moderate amount and yet still get something cool. What was fun feels almost tiring.

  Maybe it’s me. I haven’t really found the holiday spirit yet this year.

  I’m about to head over to their place when I start to second guess myself. My assistant told me that teenagers love headphones, so I did what I always do—ordered the most expensive option I could find. In this case, I ordered the Meze Elite Epoch headphones. They’re limited edition and they look like something the Jetsons might have worn, so I figure that’s good. They might cost more than whatever Seren and Dave buy him, but who would know? Headphones aren’t something that seem super high dollar, so I should be fine.

  But what if he hates big headphones? I’ve never seen him use any.

  Is that because he doesn’t have any, but wants them? Or is it because he just doesn’t like the feel of big headphones over his ears? The whole idea starts to eat at me, so on the way to the party, I stop at the Apple store and grab him a pair of the new AirPods too, just in case. At least if he doesn’t like either item, he can regift them, right?

  Or, wait. Would he sell them or trade them for drugs? No, right?

  Teenagers are hard, but foster kids are even harder.

  In my experience, Dave and Seren have to do the hard work. I’m pretty much fine to just buy the kids’ love with extravagant gifts that Dave wouldn’t buy. He has to worry about building character and maintaining authority. I don’t need to do any of that. It’s the reason I can take Killian out to shoot up a bunch of two-liter bottles, or take him for a driving lesson in my sports car. We usually just spin donuts, but as the cool uncle, that’s fine.

  The idea of being a dad is terrifying. Thank goodness I’m only the uncle.

  When I arrive, no one’s home. That doesn’t bode well for a party.

  Thankfully, they explain the kids are out back, pretending they’re unsupervised. That means it’s just Dave, Seren, and Seren’s best friend Barbara in the house. I’ve known Barbara as long as I’ve known Seren, and it’s always nice to see her. As a bonus, I no longer have to pretend to like her ex-husband now that they’re divorced. I never like the guys she dates—she has atrocious taste—but that guy was the worst of all.

  The worst thing about Barbara is that in spite of spending way less money than I do each time, she’s my stiffest competition for best gift.

  Which is why I find myself eyeing her bag.

  “What?” she asks.

  “What’s that?” I toss my head. “Killian’s gift?”

  “Yes.” She knows I’m competitive. She likes to irritate me by being obtuse. “It is his gift.”

  “You’re a punk,” I say. “Just tell me what it is.”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.”

  “Actually,” Dave says. “I’m not sure you will. I doubt Killian’s planning to come back in any time soon.”

  “Wait, really?” I ask. “He’s not coming in to see us?” I can’t help frowning. “Then why did I even come?”

  “Because you’re showing your support to Killian,” Barbara says. “Officially. But really, we came for moral support for Dave and Seren, and we came for the peach cobbler.”

  “Is that what I’m smelling?” I pull out a kitchen chair and sit. If they had a plate and utensils, I’d grab those too. It’s always a mad dash when something comes out that Seren has baked, but with teenagers around, it’ll be even worse.

  Except, they’re all outside, like chumps.

  “Surely we’ll get first dibs, right?” I catch Seren’s eye. “How many of them are there outside?”

  She laughs. “No more than a dozen. We made Killian promise to keep it small.”

  “And how much cobbler did you make, exactly?” I may sound greedy, but once someone has had some of Seren’s dessert, they start acting the same way.

  “Well, there’s a cake.” She points. “And I made three cobblers. That should be more than enough.”

  “I call the leftovers,” I say.

  “You can’t do that,” Barbara says. “That’s not how it works.”

  I frown. “If you pull the ‘my parents died and my husband left me’ card one more time. . .” I shake my head. “You should have a punch card, and you only get special treatment twenty times.”

  “Well, my husband did leave me,” she says, “and today, I found out that I get to go to a bunch of Christmas parties for our clients. . .with the heads of the other departments.” She compresses her lips and widens her eyes. “Which includes him. . .and her.”

  “Wait.” Seren drags a chair over next to me. “You don’t mean James and Kristy.”

  Barbara nods slowly.

  “That’s crap,” Seren says. “I’m calling your boss to tell her where she can⁠—”

  “It’s fine,” Barbara says with a forced smile. “Because Jennifer says I can bring a plus one.” She pauses. “So, now it definitely won’t be awkward.” She groans. “I hate the holidays.”

  “You used to love the holidays.” Seren looks so sad. Seren isn’t ever supposed to be sad. She’s like a Precious Moments figurine, or like, the angel in a school Christmas pageant. She should always be smiling.

  “Quit your job,” I say. “Come work for me.”

  “Because running away and imposing on an old friend’s not pathetic,” she says. “It’s fine. Honestly. It’s just work, and it’s been six months. At some point, it’ll stop bothering me.” But she looks pretty bothered right now.

  “I’m not sure that’s how it works,” Seren says. “Wounds don’t heal when you keep rubbing salt in them.”

  “They don’t?” Dave asks. “I think they do, but it’s just more painful.”

  Seren swats at him. “Stop being a know-it-all.”

  “I think he’s wrong,” I say. “Which makes it worse. But you’ll have to act more miserable than that to win the cake, Barbara. If that’s all you’ve got, I can beat you.”

  “You can.” She sounds disbelieving.

  “You’ve at least been married—and engaged that other time.”

  “That lasted two months,” she says.

  I shrug. “Regardless. I’ve never been either. Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”

  “Oh, please,” Seren says. “Nice try, but real pain is⁠—”

  “And it’s her cake, so she gets to decide.” Barbara’s leaning toward me, already gloating.

  “Look,” I say. “There’s a reason Shakespeare has lasted the test of time. The man was brilliant, and⁠—”

  “Dude.” Dave shakes his head.

  “Shakespeare?” Barbara’s laughing now. “That’s from Alfred, Lord Tennyson.”

  “Who?” I ask, intentionally goading her more.

  “Only the most famous poet of the Victorian Era.” Barbara looks way happier when she’s being smug. With her arms crossed under her chest, she doesn’t look like a sulking puppy any more, either. And all it took was one little intentional mis-attribution.

  “Well, that Tennyson guy is also smart then, and that means I have the sadder case.”

  “How about this?” Dave asks. “I’m offering this out of the goodness of my heart, because I’d like to toss you both out on your ear, you beggars.” He pats his stomach. “But as I’m officially on a diet, I’m willing to give you the leftover cake.” He points at me. “And you can have the leftover cobbler.” He points at Barbara.

  “Swap those two and you have a deal,” I say.

  “Wait, you don’t like cake?” Seren asks.

  “No,” Barbara says. “He likes anything, but he knows that I loooove cake.”

  I am rather chivalrous like that. “Now.” I lean toward her and point at the chair. “Sit.”

  She listens, looking at me with a curious expression.

  That’s how I take her completely by surprise. “Yoink.” I manage to snatch the bag right out of her hands. “Let’s see what you got.”

  I’m not expecting to pull out a fifty-dollar Taco Bell gift card and a black beanie.

  As soon as I start laughing, I realize I’ve made a mistake. Instead of laughing with me, Barbara looks embarrassed. “I’ve been working a lot, okay?”

  I place the gift card and beanie back in the bag and hand them to her. “Sorry,” I say. “I think he’ll love it. What teenage boy doesn’t like Taco Bell?”

  But she looks a little bit broken the rest of the night. Even when Killian comes in and opens her present and gushes and gushes, her eyes still don’t sparkle. When he opens mine and flips out, instead of feeling vindicated, I feel small.

  I’m hiding in the corner, scrolling through my phone, when Dave leans against the bookcase next to me. “Dude.”

  “What?”

  “You’re forty, man. You should know more about women by now.”

  “That’s rude,” I say. “I could have taken Seren from you back then, but I let you have her.”

 

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