All Madison wants for Christmas is the same person who once wanted her. Free from the shackles of her broken heart, she's finally ready to give love another shot. But is Madi too late to win back the man of her dreams?
SEQUEL to The Heartbreak Hypot...
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The glittering crowd watched us intently, their eyes drinking us in as though we were palm trees in the snow. As though we'd stumbled into the wrong room and were about to be promptly removed by security. As though we'd just turned up to an elegant soiree in ugly Christmas sweaters.
Because we just had.
"I might have gotten the dates mixed up," James mumbled through his strained smile.
With a smile just as strained, I muttered, "I'm going to kill you."
"Derek?" a silky voice broke through the crowd.
Manolos clipped on marble, the sea of Chanel and Dior practically parting as an older couple emerged from within. A tall, slender man and his petite wife sauntered toward us with open arms, crashing through the remaining guests and sweeping Dex up in an affectionate hug.
"Look at you!" the woman cried loudly, pinching my friend's crimson cheeks. "So grown up!"
It was as if she hadn't even noticed the goofy-looking Santa beaming up at her from his sweater.
In fact, for a family wealthier than three generations of mine combined, the Van Der Yates had to have been some of the warmest people I'd ever met. Once they got over the initial shock of our attire, Dex's parents were quick to find the humor in the fact that we'd turned up to their annual Sugarplum Ball looking less like benefactors and more like beneficiaries. Mrs. Van Der Yates fussed over her son's bright red outfit like a mother hen, while her husband's hearty laugh painted the air in warm, jolly tones. James tried to explain away the mix-up in light of our many pitstops and car troubles, but it was clear that our hosts couldn't have cared less about their son's shabby attire; they were just glad that he was home.
"You must be Madi," Dex's mother guessed, swapping my formal handshake for an enthusiastic embrace instead. She had a warm, motherly sort of air about her—almost as if Mrs. Claus and Molly Weasley had been mixed together in a blender. But with her high cheekbones and thick, bouncy waves, you'd probably have to throw in a bit of Claudia Schiffer, too.
She didn't wait for confirmation before she grabbed her husband by the sleeve of his Armani suit, nodding her head at me with a fond smile coating her red lips.
"Darling, this is the sweet dear who taught Dex how to do laundry."
I chewed on my smile, raising my eyebrows at their son. I couldn't believe that that was my claim to fame.
Then again, I kind of could. Dex hadn't even known about separating whites and colors when I first met him.
He had the pink briefs to prove it.
"She's quite the catch," a more familiar voice cooed. James' mother stepped forward to graze her lips against my cheek, throwing me a demure smile before aiming it at her son.
