12 Days of Mistletoe

9. Bonnie

NINE

bonnie

Our photo shoot is finished and I am ready to get paid. I look at my “ boyfriend ” expectantly as his family packs up their multiple poster boards. Seriously, who keeps that many poster boards on hand?

“I don’t have that kind of cash on me,” he says, computing my look correctly. “You’ll have to come to my apartment.”

I raise my brows— his apartment . But it is a substantial amount of cash. And over the last six months of passive-aggressive notes, as well as the last hour of hanging with Elliot and his family, I have come to trust that my fake boyfriend isn’t a sleaze or a serial killer. I’m not saying I like him, but no one who loves their grandma that much could be a criminal. So, I nod, agreeing to go stand outside his apartment while he counts out my cash.

“Hey, Mom, Bonnie’s got something this afternoon.”

Which is true. I do. I have a Scrabble date with Bill at the old folks’ home. A date I am already late for.

“Oh dearest,” Marlene croons, wrapping her arms around her son. For all her crazy ways, the woman loves her children. No doubt about it.

I watch as Elliot hugs each of his sisters goodbye and waves to his father and brothers-in-law. He leaves his gran for last and, like me, she watches him.

“I’ll see you soon. Okay?” he says to her.

“Very soon. I’m coming back to your place with you and Bonnie,” May says, getting up from her perch. She brushes her hands together, silently saying that no one will be arguing with her today.

“Oh.” Elliot looks at me. “Bonnie can’t stay long. She has…”

“Scrabble,” I spout. “With my friend Bill at the senior center.”

Elliot’s head tilts as if to study me better, as if he can read whether what I’m saying is true or not. Not all of us lie about our relationships, Eaton.

“Very good. I won’t keep you long,” May says. “Shall we?”

I don’t nod in agreement or shake in dismissal. My head seems to move in a circle as if it can’t decide what to do. “Um, sure.” What else can I say? Will I really be able to take cold hard cash from Elliot with May watching?

May leads the way, and maybe she’s losing her hearing because Elliot barely lowers his voice when he tells me, “I will pay you. I promise.”

“You bet you will.” I give him a sardonic grin, but I’m thinking about Noel upstairs. Bill loves her, and I’m anxious to get to both my pup and my friend.

“Come now.” May waves us along, three feet in front of us .

I know the way to Elliot’s home; it’s right below mine. So, I follow the same steps as I would upstairs. I’ve never thought about it before, but when Elliot opens the door to his apartment, it’s clear it’s a much smaller space than my own. It makes sense; the common room and entry take up room too.

His place is clean and smells like him, musk and pine. There’s a couch facing a fireplace—something my place doesn’t have—a coffee table with books stacked in threes, and a hockey stick in the corner. The space is neat, with neutral colors and warm tones. I’d kind of like to curl up with the afghan draped over the back of Elliot’s leather couch and read one of the top books on either of his stacks— More than Happy by Haily Hale or Charles Dickens’ A Christmas Carol . Either sounds kind of perfect right now. In fact, I’m pretty sure my heart rate calms just being in this space.

Weird .

Or maybe it’s not weird. Maybe it’s just good decorating. Maybe one of his sisters helped him. Maybe that Charles Dickens’ book is just décor and he doesn’t read it every single year.

I swallow down my wild imagination and speak before I think. “I like your place,” I say.

May smiles at me—it’s a sneaky smile. A smile that reminds me, as Elliot’s girlfriend, I’ve most likely been here before.

“ Today .” I titter out a hyena-like laugh. “Your place looks great today . So cozy. It feels like I am walking in for the very first time. And yet, I have seen this place. I’ve had three months’ worth of seeing this place.” The ramblings won’t stop. My words and mouth have taken on their own mission, and it’s making sure this woman believes I have been in this apartment before now.

Behind May, Elliot mouths to me, “Three months’ worth?”

I swallow. Then I laugh. Then I wave my hand in the air all nonchalantly, you know, for good measure. Okay, the jury has made their ruling—Bonnie isn’t great at fake.

“You’re funny,” Elliot says, and it sounds so real on his lips. Maybe it is real. I do sound kind of ridiculous in this moment.

May huffs out a laugh. “Please,” she gripes. I do not compute. Her tone and her smile do not match.

“Gran?” Apparently, the dog-hater doesn’t understand either.

May turns to face the two of us. We form an odd triangle in Elliot’s small living room, his peaceful books calling to me to escape this weird world Elliot and I have created.

May sets one wrinkled hand on her hip. “I know what’s what, you two.”

“What’s what?” Elliot says.

I listen very carefully, my heart rate picking up. Because I did not spill any beans. I know it. I kept my voice low. I held Elliot’s hand. I stood next to him, smiled, and took that dumb Christmas card picture. So—she can’t know what’s what .

She must be referring to something else.

“I am eighty-five years old, Elliot. Eighty-five years of life lived.” The woman crosses her arms over the front of her holly stitched sweater. “I know a sham when I see one.”

I swallow and practically choke on my spittle. “A—sham?”

“Yes, my dear.” She gives me a small, closed-lipped grin. “ You are not Elliot’s girlfriend. That was quite clear to me from the start.”

“It was?” I cringe and don’t even try to deny what she’s said. And yet—what does this mean for my rent money? For my Noel? For my living situation?

“Yes. You are B4.” May laughs. “I’ve been trying to get Elliot to talk to you in person for months. I think I’d know if he had.”

“Gran,” Elliot groans and runs a hand through his neat russet hair. “I didn’t plan to lie about Bonnie, but then you seemed so excited to see me with someone. I just—wait, what did you say?”

“I said, I’ve been trying to get you to go see Bonnie in person for months.” She gives a small shoulder shrug, unashamed of this confession.

“You have?” Elliot’s brows are furrowed—almost as deeply as my own.

“Yes, and yet you kept sending those ridiculous notes.”

“Yes!” I point at May. “So ridiculous!” Maybe the woman doesn’t know about Noel. And now, I’ve spoiled everything by telling the dog-hater.

May ignores my rant, unable to see my inner turmoil. “I assume you’ve offered her some kind of compensation with this charade?”

“Uh, well, yes,” Elliot says. I send a glare his way. If May doesn’t know about Noel, do we have to tell her?

“Something to do with the dog?” Her eyes flick to mine.

She knows.

And oh, guilt . Ouch. It punches me right in the gut. Sure, I never liked being dishonest with Mrs. Elliot, but I never really felt like I was doing anything seriously wrong. Noel is such a good girl. She’s never caused any problems. But the inkling of remorse I felt before is nothing compared to the guilt that fills me now. Being face to face with the kind woman who owns the home I love so dearly changes things.

“Mrs. Elliot, I’m—I’m—” I’m sorry. And yet I’m not. And aside from the whole fake girlfriend bit, and the hiding my dog bit, and the lying to Elliot when he insisted I had a dog bit, I’m a pretty honest, decent person. While my track record would like to dispute that fact, I really am.

I swallow down my stutters. “I apologize,” I say. “Noel is a good girl. I promise you. She’s clean and well behaved and—I need her. I love this place. It’s my home, and I just couldn’t fathom leaving and?—”

She nods. “Yes, dear. I get it. I assumed it was something like that. The deal? What is it?” Her penciled brows lift, waiting.

My eyes flick to Elliot’s. How did I get on the same side as the dog-hater?

“Well, Gran, Bonnie agreed to pretend to be my girlfriend for the next two weeks?—”

“Twelve days,” I say, correcting him.

“Right, twelve days.” He shoves his hands into his pockets and peers at the ground. Puffing out a breath, he says, “I just needed a win, Gran, something more than work in my life.”

My heart aches a tiny bit with his vulnerability. It’s an ache I can and will ignore.

“I need them to believe I’m okay. You know?”

I clear my throat and ask him, just him, in a small voice, “Are you? Okay, I mean.”

His brow lowers. “Yes. I am.” Then he turns back to his gran. “So, Bonnie agreed to go along with me, in order to keep the secret from the family?— ”

“And me? You were keeping that secret from me as well?” she says.

Elliot licks his full lips, his cheeks a guilty shade of pink. “Yes, and you. You just seemed so pleased to see me with someone, I didn’t know how to come clean.”

She sighs. “Oh, Elliot.” Then nodding, she says, “Go on.”

“So, Bonnie agreed to go along as my girlfriend, and I agreed to talk to you about allowing her dog to live here.” He shakes his head. “I know it was dumb. I shouldn’t have tried to keep anything from you. I didn’t want to disappoint you. I also know the no-animal policy is in place for a reason, and trying to talk you into changing that is awful of me. I?—”

“Stop,” May huffs. “All right, then. I want in.”

I squint, watching the little woman before us and thinking, trying to make sense of her words.

Elliot scratches the back of his head. “What does that mean, Gran?”

“It’s a saying, isn’t it? If you’re betting and someone says they want in, they want to bet too. Right?” Mrs. Elliot looks from Elliot to me and back again.

“Ah.” Elliot darts a glance my way. “Right. It’s a saying.”

“Well, I want in. I’d like you to keep up this charade for the next twelve days, and in return, I will allow you, Bonnie,” she says, looking at me, “to keep the dog here.”

“Gran—” Elliot protests like he’s suddenly changed his mind about our deal.

“And you, Elliot,” she says, “can purchase my building.” Her soft, wrinkled lips form a smile, and she looks at Elliot with all the love of an angelic grandmother.

“Wait—you’ll let me buy Cherry Plum?”

“I will. As long as you fulfill your end of the bargain.”

My eyes sting with threatening tears and I sniff. “And Noel and I can stay?”

May nods. “Yes. You can both stay. You’re my favorite tenant, I’d hate to lose you now.” She winks and a light chuckle rumbles in her chest.

“Mrs. Elliot—” I hiccup and pull the woman into a hug. My throat clenches, and those darn tears threatening to make an appearance fall. My eyes can’t contain their joy.

“If—” May says, pulling back and giving both Elliot and me a knowing grandmotherly stare, “you keep your end of the bargain.”

“Pretend to date for the next twelve days?” Elliot nods, looking from me to his grandmother. “But why would you want that, Gran? What’s in it for you?”

“Other than proving that my grandson can follow directions?” She huffs. “I have my reasons.”

I don’t know her reasons. But do I care? Noel could stay? No more going out the back doors. No more hiding my girl. Twelve measly days of pretending and Noel could legally stay.

We can pretend. We’d planned to do that all along.

“You will,” May says, “make it believable. That means, hand-holding, flirting, and… kisses.”

Whoa—what?

“Kisses?” Elliot coughs. “Uh, Gran, we can pull this off without kissing. That’s a little overboard, and Bonnie and I are new acquaintances?—”

“Very new,” I add. “Not even friends.” Far from it, actually.

“Right.” Elliot nods. “We were thinking that might be crossing a line.”

No “might” about it. That’s busting through the line and burying it in the ground so that no one realizes a line ever existed.

Sure, Elliot Eaton is ridiculously tall, broad, and nice to look at, but I don’t kiss strangers. Especially strangers who wanted to evict me, strangers who hate dogs, strangers who left notes on doors threatening to tattle on me. Nope. No kissing.

“Elliot James, these are my stipulations. You can follow them and get your building and your dog, or you can choose not to. But I won’t be negotiating,” she grumbles and smooths the front of the holly on her sweater. Then a menacing smile spreads across her wrinkled face. “We’ll call it The Twelve Days of Mistletoe.” She claps, folding her hands together, pleased with herself.

No negotiating? I swallow.

Okay… maybe I can kiss a stranger.

It would be like acting. I did a little acting—sixth grade, Beauty and the Beast . I played a teacup. Sure, I didn’t have to kiss anyone. But I did pretend my can off. I was the most believable teacup on that stage.

Elliot’s eyes draw to mine and I can’t help it—my gaze drops to his mouth. The mouth his grandmother says I must kiss to keep my dog. To keep my home.

It’s ridiculous.

It’s outlandish.

It’s a price I’m willing to pay.