My Five Santas: A Christmas Reverse Harem

Chapter Five: A Steamy Conference

This December: Two Weeks Until the Wedding

I love my sister.

I do.

That's why I need to keep saying that, on repeat, like a mantra, to remind myself that I do, in fact, actually love Cecilia.

Otherwise, I'd probably do or say something stupid.

Take now, for example.

I should be reviewing the Excel spreadsheets I have printed up for the Friday meeting. I should be making a careful list of the points I'd like to bring up at said meeting, thinking about how I can strategically get my point made before Jeffrey fucking steamrolls me.

Instead, I am sitting at my desk on the phone with my sister, who has spent the last forty-five minutes debating whether her veil is "cream" or "egg-shell white."

"They really are two very different colors, Maggie," she says for the hundredth time.

"I know, Cecilia," I groan, my head in my hands.

"I could just hear you rolling your eyes," she sniffs. I roll my eyes again. "Look, one time, I was doing a cover shoot for Trendy and Twenty and it was a disaster because the photographer used cream to white-balance his camera instead of actual white. I would die if that happened to my wedding photos, Maggie!"

I do love my sister. I do love my sister. I do, I do.

I'm biting my tongue so hard, my eyes are watering, but then there's a soft, surprising laugh on the other end of the phone.

"I can hear you thinking, Moo," Cecilia says, "and you're right. I'm sorry. None of that shit matters." She sighs dreamily. "The only thing that matters is that I get to marry the love of my life two weeks from tomorrow."

"Yup," I say through gritted teeth. "Love of your life. All that matters. Yup."

I can't decide which I hate more: lovey-dovey Cecilia or bridezilla Cecilia.

"You know, Maggie," Cecilia says, "while we're on the subject...I really think you should start trying to talk Flynn into proposing."

Alright. I hate this the most: Cecilia, the Relationship Expert, picking apart Flynn and I.

"And why," I say, "would I do that?"

Cecilia scoffs. "You're joking, right? He's smart. He runs a successful business. He's funny. He's sexy. Like really sexy. Like he's got these big arms that make you just want to—"

"I get it." I pinch the bridge of my nose.

"I'm just saying, Moo Moo. If you don't nail him down, someone else will. And you'll be forty soon—"

"Wow, would you look at that," I say loudly, slapping a palm to my desk. "Time for me to go. Bye, Cecilia."

"Okay, fine, that was harsh, but I'm trying to help! I'm just saying the older you get, they say the faster time flies and pretty soon you'll be—"

"Hanging up now."

"Wait! Wait!" Cecilia cries. My finger is hovering over the "end call" button. "Can you just tell Flynn thanks again? For the reception?"

"Tell him yourself," I snap, hanging up the phone.

Something ugly and writhing and painful is churning inside me, and I have to be in the conference room in ten minutes.

I rub my temples, feeling a headache coming on.

I shouldn't have let her get to me. We've always teased each other, and typically I can give as good as I get. She keeps hitting a nerve, though. A nerve I can scarcely identify myself.