Page 31 of Fake it 'Til Christmas
She laughs, grabs a strawberry, and bites into it like we’re on the world’s weirdest honeymoon.“Honestly?I don’t need a curated experience.I just want food that doesn’t come with implied eye contact.”
“Well, the tablet says we can customize our options,” I say, poking at it halfheartedly.“But I’m more tired than hungry.We had dinner on the plane.”
She grabs the remote and flops back dramatically against the pillows.“I’m emotionally full from all the sarcasm.”
“Same,” I say, tossing the tablet aside like it personally insulted me.“Let’s pretend this is one of those experimental retreats where you bond by skipping meals and not addressing your feelings.”
“I think you just described my last relationship,” she deadpans.
“No, your last relationship was Chad the LARPer.”
She groans and throws her head back against the pillows.“Ugh.Don’t remind me.It’s still too soon to discuss him.I get secondhand embarrassment from my own memories.”
“Fine, we won’t discuss him during this trip.”Then, I gesture toward the bed.“I can take the floor.I mean, there’s probably an emergency cot hiding in a closet.Or a yoga mat.A very romantic yoga mat.Maybe one with inspirational quotes printed on it.”
She cocks her head and squints at me like I just said something in another language, and she’s too polite to mock me outright.“You’re spiraling, and let me remind you that it’s my job to do so, not yours.”
“No.I’m not spiraling.I’m problem-solving.”
“You’re cute when you spiral.”
I blink.“Don’t say that.”
“What?I can’t call my fake boyfriend cute?”she says, tilting her head with mock innocence and zero remorse.
“Not if you say it like that,” I mutter, crossing my arms.
“Like what?”
“Like you mean it.”
She smiles then—slow and unapologetic.Dangerous.“Well.That would be confusing.I’ve decided to fully commit to the role.I’m method-acting.I started the moment we changed time zones.”
There’s a pause.Not long.Just enough.
She pulls back the covers and climbs in like this is her natural habitat.“You’re taking the right side,” she announces.“That’s your side.You’re right-handed.It makes sense.Plus, if one of us has to defend against midnight assassins, you’re the buffer.”
“I feel so honored.”
“You should.”She glances at me unamused.“It’s a very important job.Also, I like being near the strawberries.”
“You’re going to regret that when I roll off the bed mid-dream and take the swan with me.”
She settles in like she hasn’t just turned my nervous system into spaghetti.“Then I’ll mourn him appropriately.He died doing what he loved—looming quietly over inappropriate room service.”
ChapterThirteen
Winnifred
I wake to silence.
It’s not the peaceful sort that lingers after a good dream.Not the one that comes after sleeping in a cabin, and you wake up to nature.Nope.This silence is too heavy around the edges, like a room waiting for someone to explain what’s missing.It stretches around me—awake, expectant.Watching.
The bed is warm beside me but empty.Sheets creased in a way that says he didn’t leave hours ago, just ...recently.And for a disoriented moment, I don’t know why that detail punches me squarely in the chest.
Who am I waiting for?Is this still a dream?
Then it hits me.
