Page 112 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show
Finally, I sit him down in front of the view so I can cook, and eventually, I put a plate in front of Sebastian.
His eyes widen. “Lobster Benedict!”
“Uh-huh.”
“You poached the eggs. And even included spinach.” Warmth and wonder ripple through his voice.
“I made the English muffins earlier this week. They’re gluten free.”
He frowns.
“What’s wrong, baby?”
“I was sitting here. I missed out on watching you cooking.”
“Oh.” I grin. “I’m happy to give you an up-close personal cooking show anytime you want.”
He chuckles, but the light in his eyes dim somewhat, and we both look away.
Because the thing is, we don’t have a lot of time.
I wish we did.
I totally wish we did.
But I have games, and the Ashcove visit, and an all-around packed schedule. I’m not sure if Sebastian is going to want to risk sneaking into my apartment again.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
But in ten days, it will be Christmas Eve, the final night of the show, when I choose who to spend happily ever after with.
There’s no world where I can be flying across the country to see Sebastian. I have thought about it. I really have.
Maybe if I’d been less clumsy and awkward this morning, there might be an alternate reality where Sebastian and I are discussing and schedules and subterfuge.
But Sebastian’s happiness is my priority, and he doesn’t need to tie himself to an oafish athlete who says the wrong thing. Not when my family brings him pain. Not when cameras will be following me after the show ends. Not when Sebastian might wake up to finding photos of us in the grocery checkout line or the pharmacy. Not when they might be splattered over every social media page, the story never quite dying, even when the week’s magazines are replaced.
I like that he’s letting me have this time with him. Letting me feed him. Letting me hold him in my arms.
This is more than I hoped for, and it’s selfish to demand more.
At some point Sebastian will meet his dream man, the man who doesn’t remind him of all the things he wants to forget. That man will probably be as elegant and charming as Sebastian. He won’t stutter on the camera and blush at inopportune moments. He’ll live in the same city as Sebastian, and no one will find it scandalous if they’re together. On the contrary, people will probably be happy.
The headlines flit through the mind, as clear as if I’m in the checkout counter of CVS:TV Host Meets Great Guy. TV Host and Great Guy Go to Awesome Parties. Great Guy Proposes to TV Host. TV Host and Great Guy Marry in Super Awesome Destination Wedding. TV Host and Great Guy Adopt Adorable Children.
He won’t make Sebastian cry.
My heart twists, but it’s fine.
Sebastian will love that future. I want him to have that future too.
He won’t have it if people discover what we did with each other the other night.
“Good lobster,” Sebastian says, pulling me from the frantic murmurings of my mind.
I lock my eyes on him, on everything good.
