Page 70 of Fake it 'Til Christmas
“Or,” she says slowly, “maybe I’m switching my ticket and leaving for Borneo.”
“Borneo?”I laugh.“That’s ...unexpected.”
“I researched all about it.There’s a rainforest and zero chance of you or anyone in my family finding me.”
I shift again, this time because my dick perks up at the idea of her hiding in a tropical bungalow, swearing off civilization.“You’d miss me.You’d be halfway through your first coconut and crying into your hammock.”
“I don’t cry into hammocks.They’re made to enjoy life.”
“You don’t yet,” I say.“But you will when you realize Borneo doesn’t have decent Wi-Fi, and you can’t video call me when you get bored.”
There’s silence on the line until she says, “You’d still pick the pajamas, wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah,” I say, and this time I don’t even try to hide it.“And I’d still miss you in them.”
“Why are you really calling me Soren?”
“Needed to hear your voice.”The words slip out before I can filter them.“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
There’s a loaded pause between us.Maybe I shouldn’t have said that much, but I did.There’s nothing I can do to take it away. I can hear her shifting.Maybe she’s sitting now.Maybe she’s not as composed as she wants me to think.
“I’m still mad,” she says, quiet now.“You left without saying a word.”
“I know.”
“I was spiraling, Thorn.And you left me to face the fallout.I had to explain things I couldn’t explain.To my family.To yours.To my mother.She made a spreadsheet about our future mortgage bracket.”
“I’ll buy you a ficus,” I offer.
She snorts.“We already co-own one.”
“Then I’ll get us matching pajamas.”
A pause.
“Flannel?”
“Obviously.”
“I’m still mad.”
“I’m still sorry.”
Her breath comes through the line like she wants to believe me but doesn’t trust herself to.
“Don’t make this worse by being nice,” she mutters.
I press my head back against the headboard.“I wasn’t trying to be nice.I just miss you.”
“Don’t say that either.”
“Win.”
“No.Not when you’re in another country, and I’m here elbow-deep in glitter pumpkins, pretending we’re dating and totally fine.”
“I’ll be back for Thanksgiving.”
“That’s not the point.”
