“Since when?”

  “Yesterday.”

  “For how long?”

  He sure is asking a lot of questions.

  “Until after Joel’s wedding, at least,” I reply.

  “Right.” Ryker nods. “I can’t believe he’s getting married, either.”

  “She’s amazing. Natalie, I mean. His bride-to-be. That’s probably why he doesn’t want to let her go.”

  “I’m sure she is,” Ryker says. “I haven’t met her yet, but I think I will soon. He said he’ll be spending Christmas here in Chicago.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Is he here already?”

  “No. He still had some stuff to finish at work, but he’ll be here soon. I’m sure he’ll call you as soon as he arrives. Or maybe after he and Nat have their reunion kiss.”

  “The fiancée trumps the best friend, huh?”

  “You bet.”

  Joel’s been crazy about Natalie ever since he met her. Sometimes he even forgets about me.

  “Actually, she may be the new best friend,” I tell Ryker.

  He frowns. “Then I guess I have to find myself a new one, too.”

  I almost tell him I can be his new best friend but I stop myself in time. I don’t want to make him any offers. Not yet.

  “So, you’re staying at Natalie’s place?” Ryker asks.

  “No. I have my own apartment.”

  That he’s welcome to visit anytime.

  “But you’re spending Christmas with your brother and Natalie, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  Unless he asks me to spend it with him, which I’d love to. He doesn’t.

  “What about you?” I decide to ask him a question this time. “What are your plans for Christmas?”

  “Oh, I still have work to do next week,” Ryker answers.

  I pout. “Scrooge.”

  “Shouldn’t you be busy cooking for Christmas parties?” he asks. “You’re a chef, aren’t you?”

  I place a finger on my chin. “Let me guess. My brother has been keeping you updated about my life.”

  “And I’ve seen the dishes you make on Instagram.”

  Ryker follows my Instagram? I mean, I know he’s one of my followers, but to think that he’s actually been looking at my photos even though he’s never liked any of them?

  I find myself blushing. “Thanks.”

  Thanks?

  “I mean yes, I am a chef, and I’m cooking Christmas dinner for Joel and Nat. No one else.”

  “I see. So you’re taking a break?”

  I shrug. “A little bit.”

  “Are you cooking for Joel and Natalie’s wedding?”

  “Nope. I want to enjoy that day. I want to wear a pretty dress, be in the ballroom and dance, not wear an apron and be covered with sauces in the kitchen.”

  Not to mention I want to be able to keep my eyes on Ryker throughout the whole thing. Maybe even dance with him?

  Ryker grins. “Perfectly understandable.”

  Does that mean he’ll dance with me? Shit. I sound like a teenager before prom.

  “Although I think you’d still look good in an apron,” Ryker adds.

  My breath catches. My eyes grow wide.

  Ryker thinks I’d look good in an apron? He gave me a compliment?

  It’s not like he’s never given me compliments before. He used to tell me that I had nice hair, that my dress was nice, that I did well on a test, that I was a natural at soccer. But this is different. It hits different.

  I don’t know how to respond. I know I have to, though, before everything gets too awkward.

  Shit.

  Just as I open my mouth to say something, a man in a green and gold Santa elf suit approaches us. A member of the hotel staff judging by the ID hanging around his neck right behind his old-fashioned camera.

  “Would you like me to take your picture?” he asks.

  I throw him a puzzled look. “You want to take a picture of us?”

  “If you want,” he answers with a jolly grin. “And don’t worry. It’s free. It’s part of the hotel’s efforts to instill holiday spirit. I take your picture under the mistletoe—it’s up to you whether you want to kiss or not—”

  Kiss?

  “—and then I print it out with this cool device and give it to you. That’s right. You get the only copy, which you can keep for years or do whatever you want with.”

  He thinks we’re a couple?

  “Cool,” Ryker says.

  He thinks it’s cool?

  He turns to face me. “You know what? I don’t think we’ve ever had a picture taken with just the two of us.”

  True. Joel’s always in the picture. But he’s not here now. This is our chance.

  I face Ryker. He says nothing. He just looks into my eyes. I feel like I’m getting sucked into his.

  Every breath, every thought, every inch of me is getting sucked into those warm brown eyes, the shade of which reminds me of my signature gravy that I use to coat my roast chicken or ribs.

  Shit. I’m suddenly craving for that gravy. And for Ryker.

  Who am I kidding? I’ve been craving him for a long time.

  “Okay,” the photographer says, though his voice sounds like it’s coming from beyond a wall instead of from just a few feet away. “I’m going to take your picture now. One. Two…”

  I lean forward, grip his arms and kiss him.

  Blame it on the mistletoe. Blame it on those two whiskey sours. Blame it on the gravy. Or not.

  After all, the bottom line is I’m kissing Ryker because I want to.

  When he responds, I feel like a child on Christmas morning. My heart leaps. My feet feel like they might float off the floor any second.

  He puts his hand on my waist and pulls me closer. His fingers entangle with my hair as his lips collide with mine over and over. Fire burns in my chest. My head spins.

  I’m kissing Ryker. He’s kissing me. And it’s better than I ever imagined.

  Then suddenly, he stops. As he pulls away, our eyes meet and the coldness in his gaze extinguishes the flames under my skin as I freeze in place.

  What happened to him? It’s like he’s turned into a completely different person in a matter of seconds.

  “I’m sorry.” He averts his gaze and pushes me away. “I made a mistake. This was a mistake.”

  Before I can say a word—not that I know what to say—Ryker leaves. Just a moment ago, I was having the best kiss of my life, and now I’m all alone under the mistletoe with the giant harp and the two pictures that the photographer left on the table. I didn’t even notice him taking them.

  I pick them up. They’re good pictures. Clear. The colors look nice. The lighting is just right. That man captured my first kiss with Ryker perfectly.

  And it was a perfect first kiss. Even just from looking at these pictures, I can tell that Ryker is an excellent kisser. He did everything right. He made me feel amazing, and he clearly looked like he was enjoying it, too.

  So how can he say it was a mistake?

  Chapter Two

  Ryker

  It was a mistake. The worst mistake. The one mistake I swore I would never make.

  I kissed my best friend’s little sister. I broke the bro code.

  I let out a deep breath as I lean against the back of the driver’s seat. Eyes riddled with guilt and worry gaze back at me from the rear-view mirror.

  I shouldn’t have run after Claire when she was about to leave the bar. Why did I? She didn’t even see me. I could have just let her leave and nothing would have happened. But the moment I saw her, I felt this magnetic force pulling me towards her, and when I realized she was about to leave, my body just started moving on its own.

  So I ran after her. I talked to her. I wanted to talk to her, not just say hi. That’s why I didn’t let her walk away. So we talked. And yes, we were bad at it at first—Claire especially—but after the nerves had settled, it felt like the most natural thing to do. We couldn’t stop. I couldn’t stop.

  And I couldn’t keep myself from kissing her.

  So yeah, Joel is going to kill me.

  Suddenly, my phone rings. As soon as I see Joel’s name on the screen, I freeze.

  Is he psychic? Did Claire call him right after I left her to tell him what happened?

  Either way, I’ve never been more reluctant to answer a call from my best friend. But he still is my best friend, so I tap the red button and try to sound as cheerful as possible.

  “Hey, man. How’s it going?”

  “Hey, bro,” Joel answers.

  Bro. For once, the word stings. But at least he’s still calling me that.

  “Bad time?” he asks.

  The worst time.

  “Never. What do you need?”

  “Guess what? I’m spending Christmas in Chicago!” he tells me excitedly.

  I try to sound just as excited as him even though I already know.

  “No kidding!”

  “I’ll be there in a few days. How’s the weather?”

  “Cold.”

  “Great. I will be there and I’d love to meet you so I can finally introduce you to my bride-to-be and vice versa. I mean it’s strange that two of the most important people in my life live in the same city and they don’t know each other, right?”

  “I can’t wait to meet her,” I tell him. “Just give me a call and I’ll be there.”

  “Great,” he says. “I’ll do that. So you’re not going anywhere for Christmas?”

  “No.”

  “No one special to spend it with?”

  I pause. Is that a trick question?

  “You know there’s not,” I tell him.

  “You can spend Christmas with me and Nat, you know,” Joel suggests.

  “No way. You two should be spending your first Christmas together alone.”

  “It’s not our first Christmas together.”

  “Your last Christmas as a not-married couple, then. You should still be spending it alone.”

  “Actually, Claire will be there,” Joel says.

  That’s what I thought.

  “So what? You want me to babysit while you and Nat are smooching under the tree? No thanks.”

  Joel laughs.

  “Anyway, don’t worry about me. I’m okay. Just give me a call when you’re in town.”

  “You bet.”

  “And drive safely.”

  “Got it. I’ll see you soon, bro.”

  He hangs up. I put my phone in its stand and start the engine.

  That went… well. Joel didn’t call me names. He didn’t say he was going to kill me. He doesn’t know I kissed Claire. We’re still best friends.

  Of course, it doesn’t change the fact that what I did was wrong. I still feel guilty. But at least I managed to hide it from Joel.

  I will tell him. Someday. He’s my best friend, so he deserves to know. But not now, not when it’s the holidays and he’s so happy and excited about getting married.

  Not now. For now, I’ll pretend nothing happened and…

  My thoughts stop in their tracks as I remember I’m supposed to be meeting Joel in a few days.

  Fuck. Will I still be able to pretend then? Will Claire?

  ~

  Claire looks pissed. Exquisite, in a glossy bronze coat and tight black pants with her honey-colored hair sprawled over her shoulders. But pissed. At me.

  Her smile vanishes as soon as she sees me. Her eyes narrow dangerously.

  Uh-oh.

  “Claire.”

  I give her a smile to try and appease her and hopefully convince her to keep our secret, but she just pouts.

  “Are you okay?” Joel asks her.

  “Sorry I’m late,” she tells him as she shrugs off her coat.

  It nearly lands on my face as she throws it on top of her purse, the pile effectively creating a barrier between us as she sits down.

  “It’s okay,” Natalie says with a sweet smile.

  I have to say she is an angel.

  “You remember Ryker, don’t you?” Joel says.

  Claire looks at me. Again, I try to get my message across. She looks away.

  “Yeah. How can I not?”

  What does that mean?

  “Well, now that you’re both here, maybe we should tell them our decision,” Natalie says as she places her hand over Joel’s.

  “Don’t tell me you’re calling the wedding off,” Claire says.

  “Of course not,” Natalie replies. “It is definitely on. Right, sweetheart?”

  “Definitely,” Joel answers as he squeezes her hand.

  It dawns on me that lately, I’ve been in the company of romantic couples quite a lot. Ethan and Stella. Asher and Violet. Now, Joel and Natalie. Maybe that’s why I kissed Claire.

  No. I’m not going to blame anyone else for my behavior.

  “So, what’s this decision, then?” Claire asks.

  Natalie draws a deep breath. “Claire, I’ve decided that I want you to be my maid of honor.”

  Her eyes grow wide. “No way. I thought your friend from college was…”

  “I realized I want it to be you,” Natalie tells her. “Because even though we’ve only known each other for a few years, I feel like I’ve known you forever and I think of you as my own sister, the sister I never had.”

  Natalie reaches for Claire’s hand.

  “Please?”

  Claire purses her lips. Joel looks at her hopefully.

  “I’ll let you pick your own dress,” Natalie promises.

  That makes Claire smile. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

  “Yay!”

  Natalie stands up and tries to give her a hug from across the table. Joel applauds.

  “Now, my turn,” he says. “I know I already asked you this, but I’m asking you again, personally and officially. Ryker Hawthorne, bro, will you be my best man?”

  Natalie chuckles. “Wow. That almost sounded like a proposal. So what do you say, Ryker? Will you take Joel to be your groom?”

  Ah. The angel has a mischievous side.

  “You’re kidding, right?” Claire says.

  “Of course I am,” Natalie says.

  “I mean you’re kidding, Joel. Right?”

  I realize she’s gone back to being pissed.

  “What do you mean?” he asks.

  “You haven’t seen Ryker in… years, right?” Claire says. “How do you know he’s still the same man you know and trust?”

  I freeze. Is she going to tell Joel about what happened between us?

  “I know because I speak to him nearly every month,” Joel says. “But you seem to have a reason why I shouldn’t trust him. Go on. Say it. Is there something you know that I don’t?”

  I hold my breath.

  “No,” Claire answers.

  I exhale.

  Joel gives her a look of concern. “Are you okay, Claire?”

  “Yes, I’m okay,” she answers grudgingly.

  Clearly, she’s not.

  “What happened to you?” Joel asks her. “You used to like Ryker. You used to follow him everywhere.”

  “I did not!” she denies emphatically.

  “She did,” Joel says to Natalie.

  Claire lets out a breath. “Fine. Maybe I did. Maybe Ryker used to be nice. Now, he’s… not.”

  “Since when?” Joel asks.

  Claire glances at me. Why is she looking at me?

  “Since he ignored me at that Christmas party we attended at their house and he cut my finger,” Claire says.

  I frown. “You make it sound like I took a shard of glass and ran the edge through your finger, which is not what happened.”

  Joel scratches his head. “Claire, that was… long ago. Like ten years ago?”

  “Seven,” Claire and I answer at the same time.

  “And he’s been ignoring me ever since,” Claire adds.

  “Well, I’ve been busy,” I say.

  “Exactly,” Claire says. “He’s too busy. He can’t be your best man. A best man does… a lot of things for the wedding.”

  I look at Joel. “What is the best man supposed to do again?”

  “Stand beside me at the altar while I’m waiting for my bride,” he answers.

  “And plan the wedding shower,” Natalie adds. “And the bachelor party, both of which are happening on the same evening. Same with the bachelorette party.”

  Claire’s eyebrows furrow. “On the same evening?”

  Natalie nods. “Everyone comes to the wedding shower, then we split.”

  “So plan an evening and show up to the wedding?” I ask.

  “And make sure the groom doesn’t get cold feet,” Natalie adds.

  “My feet are very, very warm,” Joel assures her.

  She grins. “And dance with the maid of honor.”

  Claire shakes her head. “I’m not doing that.”

  Joel looks at her. “Wow. You really are acting like a thirteen-year-old again, aren’t you?”

  She glares at him.

  “Anyway, my best man, my decision. So it’s Ryker whether you like it or not.” Joel gives me a pat on the shoulder. “If you’ll accept.”

  I glance at Claire. Maybe I shouldn’t? But if I don’t, it will be even more suspicious.

  “I accept,” I tell him.

  Claire says nothing.

  “Great!” Natalie puts her hands together. “Then let’s all order a bottle of wine and toast to the best man and the maid of honor.”

  “Good idea,” Joel agrees. “Maybe a glass will help cheer someone up.”

  Still, Claire says nothing.

  Natalie and Joel order the wine and the food. Gradually, the mood lightens. At first, I chat with Natalie, trying to get to know my best friend’s future wife. I find out that she’s a nurse who once dreamed of being a synchronized swimmer, that she loves to bake but is bad at it—which Joel refutes—and that she has five siblings and wants just as many children. Joel says he doesn’t mind, but I can’t really imagine him with that many kids. Eventually, Joel and I get to catching up while Natalie and Claire do theirs. Finally, I hear her laugh.

  Then, just before dessert gets served, Natalie gets a phone call from her mother and leaves the table. When she doesn’t return after a minute, Joel goes after her.

  That leaves Claire and me.

  She ignores me and I try to do the same at first, but the silence is so heavy it’s suffocating.

  “I’m sorry,” I say softly.