A Billionaire for Christmas

For a moment I worry that Jesse will be bored as he waits out in the lobby with all our partners and guests. But I can see him through the glass walls of the conference room.

He and his brothers and their dates are lounging on the leather couches in front of the giant tree. Hannah’s Darrel is out there talking to Diego and Natalie’s boyfriends.

Every once in a while, one of them glances at us.

But they just nod and smile.

Do your thing, those smiles say.

Because they know that this meeting is the real meaning of the season.Chapter Three“Did I ever tell you about that little girl in the hazmat suit?”

Joey and Huck are laughing about something. Megan and Brooke have their heads together scheming about who knows what. And Wald is leaning into me, asking where I got my tie, when this comes out of Johnny’s mouth.

“What?” we all say, stopping all our conversations mid-sentence.

He’s drunk. Hell, everyone but me is drunk.

“The girl in the suit,” Johnny insists. “The one I left in the middle of the ocean.”

“What?” This time we all laugh out the word.

“Oh. My. God. What?” Johnny says, as he looks at Megan. We all look at Megan. She’s making one of those slicing motions across her throat, which is the dead giveaway that Johnny is about to tell a true story.

I glance at Joey and find him looking back at me with raised eyebrows. That look says, What’s he talking about?

I have no clue what Johnny’s going on about. But I can’t wait to hear it. And he doesn’t disappoint. Suddenly we’re all on a superyacht in the middle of the Caribbean with some dude named Logan and his crew of henchmen.

“Umm… OK. Maybe we should table this for another night, Johnny?” That’s Megan. Apparently, she was here for this little adventure.

“No, no, no.” Johnny laughs. “They gotta hear about the little girl. She was stealing biological samples from a secret lab on this island and…”

The whole thing derails from there. There’s a helicopter story, and Megan chained in a dungeon, and something about rats who live forever.

At first we’re all like, Holy shit. What the hell is he talking about?

But by the time he gets to the fountain-of-youth rats, we’ve all gone back to our respective conversations. He’s totally making this shit up.

“Custom-made,” I tell Wald.

“What?” He’s still half listening to crazy Johnny.

“The tie,” I say. “It was custom-made by this little Italian tailor just outside of Vatican City. It’s not really mine, it was my father’s tie. But I was looking for something red to wear tonight and this just popped out at me. So… where do you sleep?”

“What?” he says again, only this time it’s a laugh.

“You know.” I nod my head at Joey and Huck. “Like… do you guys have a custom bed? How does this work?”

“We take turns,” he says, sipping from a glass of water.

“No shit.” I knew it. “Is there like… a schedule? And do any of you get jealous?” I know this is prying, that Joey’s sex life is none of my business, but I can’t help it. I’m… intrigued.

“Jealous?” Wald is still confused. “Um… well. No. I don’t think so. I mean, I love them all equally.”

“Equally? Like… totally equally?”

“Yup. I don’t care which one of them I sleep with. It’s all pretty nice. So we just… fall into whichever bed we feel like it, I guess. Normally I sleep with Brooke.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. Joey likes to sleep alone. But sometimes he sleeps with Brooke too. Huck sleeps with me most nights.”

I have to admit—this is a crazy arrangement. But it’s all kind of exciting too.

“Nice,” I say.

“Who do you sleep with?” Wald deadpans.

I laugh. “Emma. Just Emma.”

“Well, that’s… lovely.” He says it like he feels sorry for me. Like I have no idea how fun his haphazard sleeping arrangements are and he’s the luckiest guy in the world.

I can’t really disagree with that, but I’m more than satisfied with just one sleeping partner.

“And then she looks me dead in the eye and says, ‘I’m going on my first date next weekend and I’m kind of excited about it.’”

Only Megan laughs. She’s the only one still paying attention to Johnny.

But then Johnny is laughing too, and I have to stop listening to Wald go on about his plural arrangement to enjoy that look for a moment.

Johnny Boston. Laughing.

My brother. Happy.

I love it.

This makes me think about my own happiness. And when I glance at the woman responsible for that new feeling on the other side of the glass-walled conference room, I find her looking back at me.

I point my finger at her and she beams a smile at me, then turns back to her charitable giving tasks and I look around the room.

One year ago. What the hell was I doing last Christmas?