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Ignoring his hand, I rise and remind him, “You’re very bad at being mean.”
“Because I don’t practice enough.”
Brigid checks her phone. “Guys, I thought you were wrapping this up. We’re going to be late if we don’t get going. We have a reservation.”
Finn plants a firm hand at my waist and guides me around my desk. “Marcella hates being late.”
“Marcella hates a grand number of things,” I say, snatching my other chicken so neither will be lonely during the ride to dinner. “That is perhaps my single defining trait.”
Finn glances down at me for many long moments, chuckles, and says, “Nah. Not even in the top ten.”
How dare he.
Nevertheless, I’m smiling all the way to the limo, where he breaks and tells me he bought me something else for us to parent. Something I’ve wanted for a long, long time. Something that makes Cody’s face twist in abject disgust.
Shrieking with uncharacteristic glee after my husband shows me the most perfect, most precious, most darling picture of a baby corn snake ever, I dive into his arms—and bite him while I kick my legs.
Extended Epilogue
Always and forever.
– Finnegan
Marcella’s foot rests on my shoulder while I rub the other in my lap. Sprawled on the couch in the main living room, which is overburdened with Christmas decorations, she groans and plays with her little corn snake, which I gave her less than thirty days ago.
She already loves it more than me.
“Finnnn?”
“Yes, love?”
Awkwardly flopped, she struggles to lift her head and scowl. “Do you think maybe you could just…I don’t know.” Her eyes narrow. “Snap my ankle?”
I drop my attention to her perfect little foot. “No, I don’t think that’s something I’m wholly capable of.”
She pokes me in the ear with her toe. “Why not? You weak or something?”
“Compelled, by love, not to hurt you.”
Her sigh pours into the low Christmas music playlist I started an hour ago, despite her protest. “That is very disappointing behavior.”
“You’ll get over it.” I move my attention up her calf, kneading into the muscle. “Probably.”
“Unlikely. Do you even know me?”
I do. Quite intimately. And that knowledge may forever fill my soul with peace.
“It’s Christmas dinner. With your wonderful family. In the beautiful house we bought your parents last Christmas. Why don’t you want to go?”
“Can I say olives in the marinara?”
“That’s a me problem. You like the olives in the marinara.”
Seemingly upset by this truth, she pets Copper the corn snake’s tiny head. “I don’t want to go because my stupid parents invited my stupid extended family to their stupid new house for this stupid holiday, so they will be bringing stupid gifts.”
“Yes, and so are we…”
“Right. But we have cool gifts because I pay attention to my silly little relatives. They’re going to give me sweaters and candles and garbage that I’ll have to pretend to like while everyone stares at me. Worse, I’m rich now, so not being blissfully overjoyed will make everyone hate me and think I’m a snob.”
