Page 75 of The Christmas Yes List

You know what’s worse than eating imported exotic animals slathered in a strange and spicy mustard barbecue sauce (to mask the taste, although let’s be honest—the real issue is exactly how much chewing is involved) at the best restaurant in town? Sitting in the kitchen of the best restaurant in town, watching a hundred perfectly peppered and smoking steaks waft in and out for everybody else in the restaurant, while you are stuck eating exotic animals slathered in a strange and spicy mustard barbecue sauce.

“Oh my word,” I say, letting my eyes roll back as I take another bite of my steak. I’m on a bit of a roll now. That one tiny step toward a rejection has given me a wicked little energy boost. “Heaven. This is just. Heaven.” I point my fork at his, smiling. Then pull a face. “So sorry about my cough.”

“No problem.”

I haven’t coughed all night and we both know it.

“Otherwise of course I’d share some with you, given it’s just so much,” I say, waving my fork over the steaming, gorgeously glistening steak.

“Of course,” he murmurs, casting his clearly unhappy gaze from me to his alligator.

“How is yours?”

“Bit chewy.” James wipes at his neck.

He wipes at his neck because he is sweating.

He is sweating because twenty minutes ago, when our meal first came out, he took a couple of exploratory bites and then began to just shovel his meat around the plate. And then I threw down my napkin with a wild grin and said, “You know what? I think it would be just so brave of you to eat all of it. What do you think? Will you eat every bite?”

And long story short, he hesitated.

And said yes.

And now he’s halfway through a rather disturbing-looking alligator tail, his expression one of exhaustion as he chews a single piece of meat I believe he has been chewing through for five minutes.

“So glad.” I smile.

He smiles.

We smile.

I slip my phone out from my lap. Reread Genie’s latest text in silence for a little encouragement. You are doing amazing. I’m so proud of you.

Her text affirmations come in every few minutes.

I look crazy to everyone around me. But Genie? Genie is proud. And as soon as I get out of here and die from self-humiliation over how I’m acting, I’ll be proud of myself too.

Cling to this feeling. Go.

“You know what,” I announce suddenly. I wave my fork at the bustling staff behind his head. “Wouldn’t it be such a fun thing if you offered up a round of drinks for the staff? They had that on the menu, you know.”

The pause between us is monumental.

“I saw,” James says at last, looking far less pleased than I was by the idea.

“It could be such a sweet gesture. As we’re back here and all. A little Christmas gift.” I lean forward, looking him straight in the eye.

And for a first, I don’t shrink back.

You are making progress! You are positively diabolical!

“Yes. Unfortunately at this place, a fifteen-dollars-a-pop Christmas gift.”

“Don’t you think it would be fun to call out to everyone that you’re offering a round of spiced eggnog on you?” I say, ignoring him. “To just . . . announce it? Right here, right now?” I shake my head with a grin. “Just imagine it. That’d be wild and wonderful.”

Okay, that’s enough eye contact. I can’t take it. I move my attention back to cutting my steak and wait in tension.

Will he bite?