Page 63 of Her Holiday Arrangement
“How did you—?” Her voice cracked before she could stop it. She looked up at Elizabeth, wide-eyed. “These are… Elizabeth, they’re perfect. How did you know?”
Elizabeth’s expression didn’t flicker. She lifted one shoulder, her version of a shrug. “You mentioned once your hands get cold walking to the train.”
Riley remembered saying that, offhand, months ago, after a meeting ran late and Elizabeth had insisted they finish the agenda while striding toward the subway entrance. Riley had stuffed her fingers into her sleeves, muttering about freezing to death. She hadn’t thought Elizabeth had even heard her.
But she had.
And she’d remembered.
Riley slid her hands into the gloves. They molded to her fingers like they’d been waiting for her all along. She flexed once, twice. Perfect.
Her chest squeezed. This wasn’t part of the act. This wasn’t some fake-girlfriend gesture designed to impress the family. This was real. Elizabeth had seen her, really seen her, long before either of them had stepped foot in this estate.
And Riley didn’t know how to survive that.
She forced a smile, light and breezy, though her heart hammered against her ribs. “Guess I’ll be the most stylish commuter in Brooklyn now.”
Elizabeth’s lips twitched, almost a smile, but her gaze lingered too long on Riley’s gloved hands before she turned back toward the room.
The moment broke. Laughter resumed, chatter swirled, more gifts were passed around. Riley sat stiffly, clutching her hands in her lap as if they’d betray her.
Then it was her turn.
She’d planned for this, in her own way. She wasn’t stupid, she’d known showing up to this family’s holiday circus without a gift for Elizabeth would be suicidal. But she’d also known she couldn’t compete. Not with sapphires and bespoke luggage and monogrammed Montblanc pens. So, she hadn’t even tried.
Instead, she’d bought a mug.
A white ceramic mug with blue lettering:Ice Queens Run Hot Under Pressure.She’d found it in a boutique near her apartment two weeks ago, tucked between ironic tote bags and overpriced candles. She’d snorted when she saw it, thinking of Elizabeth in a boardroom, flawless and terrifying, while Riley scrambled to keep up.
And she’d bought it.
Now, her palms itched as she handed it over, wrapped in plain brown paper. No satin bow. No embossed tag. Just her shaky scrawl:Elizabeth.
Elizabeth took it, brows arching slightly at the wrapping, then peeled it away. The mug gleamed in the firelight.
Silence stretched for a beat too long.
Then Elizabeth laughed.
Not her polite society laugh. Not her restrained chuckle meant to charm investors. A real laugh. Bright and startled, slipping out before she could cage it.
She cradled the mug in her hands, still smiling, her eyes soft in a way Riley had never seen.
And Riley forgot to breathe.
She could feel it happening, her chest tightening, her pulse tripping over itself, her heart leaning recklessly toward something she had no business wanting.
Oh no, she thought, panic seizing her.Oh no no no. I can’t survive this.
Because this wasn’t supposed to matter. Riley wasn’t supposed to care if Elizabeth smiled or didn’t. She wasn’tsupposed to want to memorize the curve of Elizabeth’s mouth, or the way her eyes crinkled when she laughed for real. She wasn’t supposed to crave that softness, not when everything about this was pretend.
But she did.
And sitting there, with Elizabeth’s family watching and the firelight turning Elizabeth’s hair to gold, Riley knew she was in trouble.
Big, catastrophic trouble.
Elizabeth glanced at her then, still holding the mug. Their eyes caught. And for a split second, barely a heartbeat, Riley thought she saw something there. Something answering.
