One Good Reason (Boston Love #3)(45)

I go still at the mention of Parker’s name. It’s clear they don’t know about my connection to him; that will certainly change, if I go to Phoebe’s party.

“I really can’t.”

“Uh huh. Why’s that?” she asks.

I hesitate, contemplate lying, and finally decide to just go with the truth. “I don’t do Christmas.”

“Are you Jewish?”

“No.”

“Buddhist?”

“No.”

“Wiccan?”

“Please don’t go through every religion.” I sigh. “Like everyone in Boston, I’m a lapsed Catholic.”

“A lapsed Catholic who doesn’t do Christmas?”

“What about this are you having trouble understanding?”

She stares at me incredulously. “Everyone does Christmas.”

“Not me.”

“Well, you do this year.”

My fists clench tighter and I feel something like fear flip my stomach into somersaults. I can’t go to that party, and not just because I can’t stand to be around that much holiday cheer without curling into the fetal position.

I can’t see Parker.

Feeling pressured, I lash out like a feral cat — a method I’ve used for years, whenever I’m feeling cornered. My voice drops to a scathing whisper. “Listen, princess, I don’t know if it’s a lack of brain cells keeping you from hearing me…” I feel Nate tense at my back; I keep going anyway. “…or just plain entitled ignorance, but I’m not going to your f*cking party. Comprende?”

Instead of backing off, I see something flicker in Phoebe’s eyes. It looks a lot like determination. She strides closer on those damn skyscraper heels, getting right up in my face, and glares down at me.

“I don’t know what happened to make you so miserable, I don’t know who hurt you so bad you think you have to lash out at everyone who wants to be your friend… frankly, I don’t care. You want to treat me like gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe? Fine. Either way, you’re stuck with me. I’m sticking. Deal with it.”

My mouth drops open to retort, but a growling male voice intercedes before I can.

“What’s going on? You okay, babe?” Luca steps into the ring of women surrounding me and inserts himself by my side. I hear appreciative feminine sounds from Shelby, Chrissy, and Lila as they take him in.

“That’s Blaze Buchanan,” Shelby whisper-yells.

“We know, dufus,” Chrissy fires back.

Luca stares from me to Phoebe and back again. “Babe?”

I sigh. “I’m fine. Just a little misunderstanding.”

“No misunderstanding,” Phoebe clips. “I was just inviting Zoe here to my Christmas party. She was trying to squirm her way out of it.”

Luca’s mouth twitches. “Sounds about right.”

“You’re invited too, of course,” she adds. “Though I think your presence at the party may incite riots among my friends.” She gestures at the cluster of women flanking her sides.

Luca’s eyes cut around the circle and lock on Knox. They exchange silent nods — bro-code for hey, man, good to see you — before Luca continues his sweep of the group. His gaze flickers past Gemma, Chrissy, and Shelby, then seems to freeze on Lila with particular interest.

To my surprise, she’s not looking at her phone. Gone is her scowl.

Her wide brown eyes are locked on Luca with one hundred percent focus. And he’s looking back at her with an intensity I’ve rarely seen from him — taking in her long, reddish blonde hair, her curvy figure, her delicate features.

“You going to be at this party?” Luca asks her in a low voice.

“Y-yes,” she stutters, before getting her tone of careful nonchalance under control. “I mean, I was planning on it. Maybe.”

Luca’s grin is wicked. “Great. We’ll be there.”

“Luke!” I hiss, outraged. I try to punch him in the side but his large hand engulfs mine just before I make contact with his ribs.

“Address?” he asks Phoebe, ignoring my attempts to escape his grip and murder him with my bare hands.

Phoebe is grinning. “112 Commonwealth Avenue, in Back Bay. It’s a brownstone with a mammoth wreath on the front door — you can’t miss it. Starts at seven! Ugly Christmas sweaters are encouraged, but not required.”

“Don’t wait up,” I say. “We’re not coming.”

Luca is still looking at Lila. “Seven. Sounds good.”

“Great!” Phoebe exclaims.

“Seriously, we won’t be there,” I insist.

Phoebe laughs. “See you tomorrow, Tink!”

“Don’t count on it!” I call as she turns and walks away, her friends all around her.

“Don’t worry,” Gemma calls back over one shoulder. “I’ve got an extra Santa hat you can borrow, if you don’t have one.”

I screech.

How the hell did that just happen?





11





The Party




“I literally hate your guts.”

“Tell me something I don’t know.”