A Holly Jolly Ever After

by Julie Murphy

“You remember that picture Michael was talking about?” I couldn’t ignore the way it was gnawing at my brain. I ruined Winnie? How could that be? “How could I not? ‘Purity Princess Passes Out After a Long Night of Partying.’ ‘Abstinent? Not from the LA Party Scene.’ ‘Winnie Baker Lets It All Hang Out.’” “God,” I said, wincing. “I can’t believe we survived that shit as teens.” I knew it was bad back then, but time had taken away some of the sting. And I couldn’t shake the fact that, in a way, this was my fault. “Not all of us did, Kallum. Don’t you think it’s a little too perfect that Winnie and Michael got married just days after her eighteenth birthday? I can’t say for sure, but the rumor was Winnie’s team and parents basically strong-armed her into getting married to save her reputation. People were literally talking about whether or not she was still a virgin on morning talk shows.”

“Kallum?” Gretchen called across the tiny lobby. “Good job not punching Michael, but if he shows up here again, I might beat you to it.” “We’ll make it a real donnybrook,” I told her

I wanted to take her on a date—the kind of date I would have taken her on if we’d been just two normal teenagers when we first met and not living under some kind of intense microscope.

narcolepsy lapping like a thick tide at my feet, despite being passed out for the last sixteen hours. Even though I didn’t have cataplexy, and the sudden loss of muscle control that came with it, the sleep attacks were sometimes just as sudden, just as overpowering. I just had to make it long enough for the meds to kick in, though, and then I’d stand a fighting chance of making it through makeup without falling asleep on the stylist.

“Hi,” I said a little breathlessly, looking up into those lovely eyes. There were times when he was like a bearded Peter Pan, all boyish mischief, and times when he looked like he just stepped off the set of a History Channel show about warriors or something. And then there were the times when he didn’t look like anything but himself. Just Kallum Lieberman, who gave me his coat when I shivered between takes and who wrote me date requests in neat, blocky handwriting.

“The end goal was purity,” I tried again. “Always. And dating? That was just tempting impurity. Not to mention being a distraction from living fully for God’s will.” “You can’t live fully for God and date?” Kallum guided me over a dark slick of ice on the sidewalk. “That seems made up. Don’t you have the Song of Songs in your bible? It’s super horny.” “Yeah, well . . .” I laughed. “That one was un-horned for us. We were told the real point was about not awakening love until the proper time. And of course, the proper time was marriage. Which was really where the lingo became important, because dating was frivolous, and maybe even dangerous, but courting? Courting was about marriage. Spending time with someone to see if God wanted you to marry them. So as long as you were courting, you could spend time with someone.” “So you and Michael did this courting thing?” “Yes. Marriage was on the table from the beginning. It was the table.”

“FIRE!” she yelled. I jerked my head around to see the snow machine in flames. Shit! My whole body went into emergency response mode as I threw Winnie over my shoulder and gunned it out of the sleigh. Crew members armed with extinguishers swarmed the set as I delivered Winnie to her director’s chair. She gripped the arms of her chair and just stared at me, her eyes wide and stunned. “I’m sorry but did you just throw me over your shoulder like a bag of potatoes?”

But Kallum didn’t say no. He didn’t say no at all. In fact, he looked like a kid who’d just been told he was going to Disney World.

Did I want to?? Was water wet?? Was peppermint lube a bad idea??? Yes, yes,

“Is that a—” “Slice, Slice, Baby promotional condom? Why, yes it is.” Kallum tapped his temple. “I saved one for an emergency smash.” “Your pizza place made promotional condoms?” “Sure did. Pizza and Chill: order a pizza for two and get a free condom.” He sighed. “It didn’t take off like I thought it would, so we ended the promotion early. I’ve got a lot of condoms left over.”

And then he laughed so hard that I shook along with him. “I forgot,” he managed between his deep giggles, “about the pickle pouch.” And sure enough, his hand emerged with the not-so-little beige pouch he’d been wearing for our sleigh scene. The sheer ridiculousness of the moment slammed into me, and I was giggling too; here we were on Santa’s chair, in our red velvet costumes, our sexcapade helped by fire-prone snow machines and hindered by pickle pouches, and oh my God, this was the most fun I’d ever had in my entire life. This moment, this movie. These last few weeks with Kallum.

His firm lips quirked—half smile, half tortured grimace. “Really. You could start recapping the plot of The Phantom Menace to me and I’d still go off like a rocket.” “Because it’s a boring movie?” “Because it’s a cinematic tour de force!” he exclaimed. “Have you ever seen the ‘Duel of the Fates’ fight scene? It’s the seminal creative achievement of our time!” I laughed and then he sucked in a breath. “Babe,” he managed. “Seriously. I’m dying here. You feel so fucking good.” And just like that, all my anxiety was gone. It didn’t matter what I did, because Kallum loved all of it, was in agony just from being inside me. I didn’t need to impress him or please him—I didn’t need to put on a show. This was for both of us,

“Kallum,” I whispered, almost panicked. It was too much, too good, too hot—one person couldn’t endure the force of pleasure this intense. I was going to die when I came, I was sure of it.

how strange was it that I used to think of sex like I was giving parts of myself away? Because there was nothing subtracted here, nothing stained or marred. There was only Kallum and me giving gifts to each other—the same gift multiplied many times, the same gift made more and more wonderful by our sharing it together.

She sucked in a laugh as my index finger circled her belly button and the faint scar just above it. “What’s this from?” I asked. She peered down to see. “Oh . . . that. A navel ring.” I nearly choked. “What? Did you say a belly button ring? Rebel, rebel, Winnie Baker.” “For a full seven hours,” she said. “I was sixteen and Addison convinced me to pierce my navel with a sewing needle. But then it got red so quickly after, and I was terrified it was infected, and then I broke down and confessed it all to my parents. My dad was so mad he put my cell phone in his gun safe and my mom cried like I’d been murdered.” “Wow. There’s just so much to unpack there.” “The gun safe, the belly button piercing, or the fact that my work was actually paying all of our cell phone bills?” she asked.

“Well, if it isn’t Santa himself,” called a voice. I spun around to see Teddy Ray Fletcher stepping off the elevator. He wore flannel pajama pants, a Dave Matthews Band T-shirt, and a corduroy blazer, with two paper cups of black coffee in his hands.

“My work?” he asked with a snort, waving my hand away. “You’ll always be the one who got away for me. Do you know how hard I tried to license that sex tape of yours?” I was blushing like a damn schoolgirl. “The bidding war was pretty intense,” I said.

“That’s a shame,” Teddy said. “About the catastrophe. Not Dubai. I’ve never been. Maybe one day. When I’m done bleeding money out of my ass for art school and sustainable sex toys.” This man was a goddamn onion.

Teddy Ray Fletcher, the porn king of my adolescence, had just called me a natural. Holy fuck. My brain pulsed, suddenly remembering that it needed to make words. “I just did the best I could with what I had, sir,” I managed to sputter.

I’d go home to take care of my family and my business and once that was settled, I’d get my Winnie. I’d cook for her every night and let her fall asleep nestled next to me on the couch and tear her clothes off with my teeth and I’d make her laugh so hard she cried and I’d be the kind of man she deserved.

I must have gone pale, because Steph came up and patted my cheek. “Turn on your phone,” she said. Pat, pat. “I’m emailing you the scripts and proposals tonight. Let’s make some money, Winnie.” And then she waltzed out, leaving the scent of cherries behind her.

Sometimes the things we wanted most came when we least expected them, when we weren’t prepared for them, when we thought we didn’t want them anymore.

“Okay, bud. It’s time to get out of this bed, take a shower, and get your ass to the studio. I took your Slice, Slice, Baby apron to the dry cleaners yesterday, so if we can just wash the feelings off of you, you might not look as depressed as you feel. Then when you get home, we can order a pizza from every good place in town and make a pizza flight. We’ll talk about your feelings and get you in with a therapist back home first thing in the morning.” “I never said you could plan my life,” I told him as I dug myself out from the pile of decorative throw pillows that I’d used to shield my body from the world for the last two days.

“But I am sorry for coming here and turning your guest bedroom into a black hole.” “It’s cool, bro. That’s what your best friend’s guestroom is for. Plus it’s always sunny and seventy degrees here, and it’s been raining since you arrived, which feels ominous, but is sort of nice. I was starting to feel like I was living in one giant simulation.”

“You really got it bad for her?” “She’s my person,”

“Winnie?” Addison stopped short behind her. “Kallum Lieberman, it’s been at least a decade.” She looped an arm through Winnie’s. “Should I verbally eviscerate him? Say the word.” Winnie sighed and shook her head. “You go ahead and go inside.” Addison leaned toward me and then barked like a dog before going inside where the entire staff sang out her name. “That woman is feral,” I said. “If you’re going to compliment her, you should say it to her face.”

“I . . . but I love you, Winnie.” The moment the words were out of my mouth I knew it was the wrong thing to say at the wrong time, no matter how true it was.

“I never say the right things,” I finally said. “Ask my whole family. Ask Nolan. Literally anyone. And with you it’s even harder, especially now that we’re back in the real world and all I want is for what we had to be real. I said a stupid thing to Teddy. I—okay, this is embarrassing—but I was sort of starstruck when I saw him. That guy is a porn king, and let’s just say his work was very formative to a young Kallum. So what I should have said was ‘You let me star in a movie with the girl of my dreams and the memory of this experience will be the last thing I think of every night for the rest of my life.’ I would have said that we’re all just lucky to work with Winnie Baker, who is kind and smart and clever and surprisingly filthy. But I said an awful fucking thing, and I will never stop regretting it.”

“Also the Dirty Snowball is booked all next week for a Disney Channel Original Movie trivia tournament, so we couldn’t do separate cast mixers,” Pearl chimed in. “Ah, DCOM,” Nolan said with a wistful sigh. “I was almost in a DCOM with a Jonas brother once. But I got caught making out in a Disneyland bathroom with Prince Eric right before the movie was set to start filming, and the Mouse doesn’t do scandal. Even deeply, deeply understandable scandal.”

“You can call her Mommy. I’m Daddy, obviously.” Bee rolled her eyes. “Sunny, you can’t just call Daddy. That’s not how it works.” Sunny snapped her gum. “Tell that to Jack Hart’s mom,” she said and then threw me a shameless wink. Jack Hart’s mom? I gaped, and Bee shook her head at her friend. “He’s never going to forgive you if you keep bringing it up.”

Bee emerged with a paper-wrapped object and handed it to me. It turned out to be a disposable bamboo toothbrush. “You just had one of these in your purse?” I asked Sunny, but then added a heartfelt, “I’m glad you did. Thank you.” “You’re welcome, and obviously I have an emergency toothbrush in my purse. I have several, along with baby wipes and condoms, because you never know when a content opportunity is going to appear!” “Sunny is a porn star,” Bee added, seeing my blank look at the words content opportunity. “Ohhhh.”

“I wear many hats, you know. Mostly while naked.”

“Are you feeling ill?” the person in the hallway who definitely was not Winnie Baker asked. “Because I haven’t left my house in six months for more than an hour at a time, and I didn’t come all this way just to catch whatever it is you have.”

“So what the hell are you doing here?” He tilted his head to the side. “You asked if I wanted someone to be sad with.” I blinked. Once. Twice. “In the text you sent,” he added. “Isaac, that was months ago.” “Well, I’m here now.” He walked past me and into my room. “And I’m ready to be sad with you.”

“You tried to rent out the mansion?” “I saw it in the first Duke the Halls. It looked very . . .” He waved an elegant hand. He wasn’t wearing his wedding ring, which I couldn’t decide was a good sign or not. “Very quiet up there on the mountainside. Secluded. Anyway, don’t tell Nolan I’m here just yet. He’s so happy and in love right now.” He lowered his eyelids until his dark gold lashes rested on his cheekbones. “I don’t have the stomach for it tonight.” I tilted my head back against the headboard. “Same, man.” I bumped his fist. “Sad boys for life.”

When the whole story was laid out there crystal clear, he turned to me with watery eyes. “Addison Hayes really barked at you?” “Yeah. It was terrifying.” He sniffed. “I always liked her.”

“You’re not a shitty person for moving on,” I told him. “I mean . . . if anything ever happened to Bee, Nolan would probably cope by fucking his way through the San Andreas fault line. You basically entered a monastery and took a vow of silence.” “I did actually consider that,” he mumbled.

“Brook did love hotties . . . and I did download some dating apps.” “Maybe be careful with those. Even on the invite-only ones, you never know who people really are and—” “I know how stranger danger works, Kallum. I’ve seen Catfish.”

And I don’t have any advice for you, but maybe don’t be sad forever, because that’s my brand.”

“Out,” Jack demanded before swallowing back more scalding water. “This is my place of business.” “Your place of business?” Sunny asked from the hallway. “You’re not, like, some mom-and-pop intimacy coordinator. And need I remind you that this is also my place of business for the next four weeks? Besides, we should talk about last night. Well, technically, this morning.” Winnie and I shared a quick glance. She shrugged, so I was guessing we were both in the dark here. “Um, we can wait,” Winnie offered. Sunny curtsied. “Thank you, Winnie.”

“He was so sad,” Jack said. “How could I deny him a threesome?”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I scrubbed the taste of your vag from my mouth and I can still taste you. It’s disgusting.” “I’m not going to make a your mom joke. I’m not going to make a your mom joke. I’m not going to make a your mom joke.” “You know what, Sunny? Fuck you. I hope you have only mediocre sex for the rest of your life.” Sunny scoffed. “Don’t pretend like you didn’t have fun.” “Of course I had fun,” Jack said. “Who doesn’t love a hate fuck?” “So what you’re saying is you had a good time? With me?” “Enough already. I have an actual job to do, okay?” “Jack Hart had fun with me,” Sunny sang to herself.

Me: When I said find a hottie, I meant have a fun little hookup. Not have a threesome with two porn stars?? Three little dots appeared as I waited for his response. Isaac: I’m new to these apps. I swiped and suddenly they were both there and group sex was one of the options and . . . Brooklyn always wanted to have a threesome.

Any task, no matter how existentially terrifying, could be broken down into the smallest steps when you thought about it. Stop crying. Walk into the next room. Pick up the phone. Et cetera.

Funny how love worked, sometimes fast, sometimes slow; sometimes exactly like the idea of love you had in your head, and then sometimes not at all.

“What’s wrong?” Kallum asked, and I realized I was visibly pouting at the menu. I made an effort to be mature about becoming the world’s pickiest eater. “I think I’m not that hungry, actually. I’m just going to have some ice water. But you should get whatever you want.” “Winnie,” he said, with the gravity of a brain surgeon. “What sounds good to you?” “Really, I just—” “Not on the menu,” he clarified. “Like at all. If you could eat anything right now, what would it be?” His tone was very firm for Kallum: less cinnamon roll and more I’ll keep you bent over my lap until you’re a good girl. And holy heckballs, Bossy Kallum really, really worked for me, because that voice was making me squirm in my seat. I decided to obey Bossy Kallum. I closed my eyes and thought about it. “Maple syrup,” I said. “And, um. Bacon. String cheese, maybe? And a pear! A pear sounds delicious.”

“Maple syrup,” I said. “And, um. Bacon. String cheese, maybe? And a pear! A pear sounds delicious.”

Kallum pulled several bills from his wallet and pressed them into the line cook’s tattooed hand. The cook—somewhere older than college but younger than twenty-five—blinked at us both with hazy-eyed confusion and then blinked down at the money in his hand. “I think you deserve a break,” Kallum suggested, and then the kid got the hint. “Yeah, sure,” the cook said, stuffing the money into his pocket and stripping off his apron. “But if someone comes in while I’m gone, you gotta make their food. And probably serve it too, because I haven’t seen Linda around for a while. Sometimes she leaves to go check on her parrot when it gets slow.”

“Now can you tell me what we’re doing?” I asked. “You are going to sit there looking adorable,” he said, pulling a plastic-wrapped ball of dough off a shelf and pressing on it with his knuckle. Whatever he saw made him sigh, but he still set the dough on the counter. “And then I’m going to make you dinner.” “Oh, Kallum, you don’t have to—” “I want to,” he said firmly. The look he gave me was somewhere between Bossy Kallum and the Kallum who gave me his coat on the ski lift. “You need dinner. And I want to see you eating my food. The worst part about being on set is never having time in the kitchen. So hush.”

I’m going to make you dinner.” “Oh, Kallum, you don’t have to—” “I want to,” he said firmly. The look he gave me was somewhere between Bossy Kallum and the Kallum who gave me his coat on the ski lift. “You need dinner. And I want to see you eating my food. The worst part about being on set is never having time in the kitchen. So hush.”