Page 1 of Fake It for Christmas

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SHANE

My heart skipped a beat when I saw the advertisement online, gleaming out at me like a bonfire out on a cold winter night.

Fixer Brothers Home Renovation Contest: Couples Edition!

I gripped my phone, staring at the simple ad on the screen like I was a kid who’d just found a golden ticket in a chocolate bar.

Yes.Fuckyes.

The jazzy piano version of “O Christmas Tree” playing on my living room speakers suddenly felt too calming compared to the surge of adrenaline hitting my veins.

This was what I needed. It would be my Christmas gift to myself. It didn’t matter what I had to do: I was going to enter the contest.

And I was going to win.

“This is not a drill,” I told my sister Mariel. “There’s a contest to be on the Fixer Brothers TV show.”

She didn’t even look back. She was reaching up high on a stepladder, pinning the last of the Christmas garlands around the living room ceiling.

I’d never won anything in my life—hell, I’d somehow never even managed to get so much as a participation trophy in anything I did as a kid. Soccer, baseball, basketball, football. I’d played and enjoyed them all, and I’d never been remarkable at any of them.

But I was not anaverageFixer Brothers fan.

I’d wanted to be a home renovation client since the moment I’d first seen their TV show.

“You think The Fixer Brothers would come all the way out here?” Mariel said, stepping back down to the floor. “The middle of nowhere, Tennessee, to a house that’s a hundred years old?”

“Hey,” I protested. “I love my house, and you bet your ass they’d love it, too.”

“I’ll admit, it has a charm,” she said. “Especially around Christmas.”

It was the beginning of November, but my sister and I were steadfast: starting November first, we were allowed to hang holiday decorations. And that was exactly what we did, every year. She helped at my house, and I helped at hers.

She reached down to plug in the cord hanging from the garland and all around the ceiling, glowing white Christmas lights lit up, strung throughout the pine garland. These types of lights always had a way of making any room come alive, and suddenly my dusty old living room became more like a cozy, wood-framed hideout. Memories flooded my mind. The scent of ham roasting in the oven, Mariel and I as kids coming inside from snowball fights, and Gram laughing in the kitchen.

I felt like I came alive when those lights switched on, too.

The rollercoaster shitstorm of the past few years lessened, and I could remember what it felt like to be me.

To maybe even let myselfwantthings again.

I glanced back down at my phone, the yearning in my chest almost too much to take. “The contest says it’s open to the whole United States,” I said. “Screw it. I’m applying.”

“It’s rare to win things like that. But I guess you’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Yeah,” I said, scrolling through the contest website.

She gave me a dubious look as she glanced down at my phone, seeing the details.

“Shane,” she said in a gentle tone. “Did… did you see that it sayscouplesedition?”

I pulled in a breath of air, leaning back on the couch. “I did.”

“And that you have to showcase why youand your partnerare perfect for the show,” she continued, “in a five-minute video you need to submit?”

I was like a stubborn puppy who wouldn’t give up his stick, not making eye contact with Mariel.

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