Page 73 of Fake it 'Til Christmas
“You’re right.”My voice is almost solemn, feigning resignation.“That glitter was emotionally real.I failed”
“It’s okay, I’ll survive.”She winks at me.
I take her bag and start walking toward baggage claims when my phone buzzes.I check my watch and groan when I see it’s Gretchen.Usually, I would ignore it, but she usually texts because there’s something important.
There’s a winter storm warning in effect.Multiple routes into Vermont are shut down, and I-89 is officially closed north of Lebanon until further notice.
I scroll my own phone.It seems like she’s right.All routes north and west are shut down.Flights are grounded.We’re fucked ...or maybe not.
“Gretchen says we’re stuck,” I tell her, angling my phone so she can see the flashing red banner.“Storm’s eating Vermont alive.”
I don’t wait for Win’s reaction and fire off a text to Gretchen asking about hotel availability.I knew the storm was going to be bad, but I didn’t think right-this-second bad.She replies immediately—of course, she does—and by some miracle or dark magic, she’s locked down a suite in Markel.I don’t ask how many beds.
I don’t want to know.
Win, and I can bunk there for the night, the weekend until Vermont thaws out, or we have to head back to Colorado.Whichever happens first.
“I guess we’ll be spending Thanksgiving at a hotel,” I say, like it’s no big deal, like my pulse isn’t suddenly doing laps.
I could offer to try the backroads into Winterberry Cove and spend it with our families.I could act like that’s still an option.But if I’m being honest—brutally honest—I just want to be alone with her.I don’t want to pretend anything, not even that this is temporary.This storm can be considered a blessing in disguise.A warning that going to someone else’s town to spend time together is a bad idea.Yes, those might be excuses.
It all comes down to ‘I want nobody else but her.’
“As long as there’s a warm bed, I’m all for it.”She yawns, dragging the words like they’re draped in silk and sin.
My brain short-circuits for a second on the thought of bed.Stop, Thorn.This isn’t the time to be thinking with your dick.But ...do I have condoms with me?
Since my brain is not cooperating, I have to focus on Winnifred.“Are you disappointed?We can try to figure out a way to get there tomorrow before dinner.”I offer,watching her through the blur of people and suitcase wheels and post-flight exhaustion.Wondering if she can see how badly I want her to say no.
She hesitates.Then—deadpan: “Crushed.Obviously.”Any other day, I would take her sarcasm seriously, but today, not so much.
“Win.”
She shrugs with theatrical innocence, lips twitching.“I just hate being snowed in with you and room service and a city full of distractions.”
“Oh, no,” I deadpan back.“We’re trapped in a luxury hotel with five stars and overpriced cocoa.How will we survive?”
“Barely,” she says, mock-serious.“We might have to ...order appetizers without sharing.”
“Scandalous.”I pause.My gaze narrows.“Win, I need to know.We could still drive to?—”
“Don’t say Winterberry Cove.”She cuts me off with a pointed finger and a glint in her eye that kills any delusion I had of being the responsible one here.
I raise my hands in surrender.“Then it’s settled.Let’s grab the rest of your luggage and head to the hotel.”
She raises an eyebrow.“What happened to asking if I wanted to go anywhere else?”
“I was going to give you the option.”I grin, stepping closer.“But then I remembered—I’m very persuasive.”
“Cocky.”
“Confident.”
“Same thing.”
I don’t say anything.Just reach for her hand.
She lets me take it.
