Page 20 of Snowed In
“Oh, okay, that’s super clear.” I go to push myself off the couch, thinking he’s making fun of me, but stop when his hand lands on mine, his palm warm and dry and—
“Megan?”
“Yeah? What?” I clear my throat as he looks at me with this open, earnest expression that makes my heart flutter a teeny tiny bit.
“Will you be my fake girlfriend for Christmas?”
I wait for the punchline. I wait for anything, but he just looks at me, and I just…“No?”
“Think about it,” he continues, but I’m barely listening, too distracted by the feel of his hand still atop of mine. “Having someone by our sides would make things a lot easier, wouldn’t it? You wouldn’t be so worried about bumping into Isaac. I wouldn’t be the only single member of my family for another year. We’d each have a partner in crime. Backup.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” he says. “But it’s what I think we should do.”
“But—”
“It sounds more complicated than it is,” he says, growing surer with each word. “All we need to do is go back together. We tell everyone that we met in Dublin, which we did. We just embellish a few things. We say we hit it off. That we started seeing each other.”
“No one’s going to believe that.”
“Why not?”
I stare at him. “Because it’sdumb?”
“I admit we don’t have that much time to prepare—”
“You think?” I tug my hand free of him, needing a clear head.
“We’ll only have to do it for a week,” he says. “Two at the most. I’ll be your date for the fundraiser. I’ll back you up if you see Isaac. I’ll do everything an actual boyfriend would, but it will just be…”
“Fake,” I say flatly, and he hesitates.
“Let’s say pretend.”
“You’re serious about this.”
“It makes sense.”
“Not really,” I say, even if everything he just described feels like it was plucked directly from my own private fanfiction. “Because yes, I admit I can see in some strange alternate universe what I get out of this plan. But it’s not like your ex-fiancé is running around the place reminding everyone that they hate you.”
“No,” he admits. “But I do have a family who are so coupled up it’s starting to feel personal, and if I have to spend one more Christmas with them sending me pitying looks down the dinner table, I don’t think I’ll manage another. I’m tired of them asking the same questions in the hope of a different answer. Just one year, I’d like them to be off my back and enjoy myself.”
“There are other ways to do that.”
“Such as?”
“My one!” I exclaim. “We stay here and get drunk.” I slump back against the cushions, suddenly suspicious. “How many people have you asked to do this with you?”
“Today or…?” He smiles when I scowl. “Just you, Megan.” And something about the way he says my name melts my aversion just a bit, but before I can respond, my phone chimes with a text. It’s Frankie.
Turns out Claudio’s promise of a private horn performance wasn’t a euphemism.
“My roommate’s coming home,” I say reluctantly, but Christian just nods.
“I guess that’s my cue.” But he doesn’t move. He doesn’t move, and I don’t want him to move and I—
“I was going to take this to the bedroom,” I say, and his brow lifts in amusement.
