Page 86 of Fake it 'Til Christmas
She looks at me.One second.Two.It’s long enough to make it obvious—this is it.
She’s giving me a shot, her final Hail Mary.One last chance to say something that matters.And I just stand there, hands useless, mouth frozen, while the silence turns into this loud, aching thing filled with all the words I couldn’t get out.
Then she moves.Reaches for the door handle.
“Wait.”The word comes out low and rough like I haven’t used my voice in hours.As if I almost forgot how to ask someone to stay.Maybe it’s not that I forgot, but I’ve never asked before.I’ve never dared to think about more—or love.
Winnifred stills.She doesn’t turn or speak.
“I can’t,” I say, knowing that if I don’t convince her, I might lose her.“I can’t do this.I can’t pretend you’re just someone I crossed paths with.I can’t walk away like Boston didn’t happen.Like I didn’t memorize the sound of your laugh when you were naked in my bed, and everything felt?—”
I stop myself because, fuck, it’s a lot.Though if I don’t finish—if I leave it hanging—I might lose her.And that’s not an option.
She asked me to fake it ‘til Christmas, but I can’t fake anything anymore, not with her.I have to lay it all out now.
“I can’t do the polite goodbye and act like I haven’t had you pressed against me for five straight days.Like I’m not still feeling it everywhere.”
Slowly, she turns.
Her eyes glisten.Her lip trembles.
And fuck me—I did that.
I hurt her by doing what I thought would protect us.Protect me.
“I know we said this was temporary,” I say, stepping toward her, “but it stopped feeling temporary when we kissed in my family’s house, and I forgot we were pretending.When you stayed up texting me ficus photos and made me feel like maybe I belonged to someone for once.Like I was someone worth belonging to.”
She lets out a breath.Shaky.Barely holding.
But I’m not done.I’ve already ripped the Band-Aid off, might as well bleed out with some dignity.
“I didn’t expect you, Win.I didn’t see you coming.But now I can’t see anything without you in it.”
She opens her mouth.Closes it again.Her jaw clenches, eyes shimmering—she’s holding it in, trying not to break.
I take another step, slow.Careful.Like she’s glass, and I’m the guy who keeps cracking her without meaning to.
“I ruin things,” I say quietly.“I pull away when I should lean in.I go silent when I should speak up.I get cold feet when I’m scared.But you ...you made it feel like I could be more than that.Like I wasn’t just tolerable.You looked at me like I was worth choosing.”
A tear escapes before she can blink it back.I swipe it with my thumb.Her skin’s cool and tense like she’s pretending this doesn’t mean as much as it obviously does.
“I’ve never said this to anyone,” I whisper, voice shaking now.“But I love you, Win.I love how you overanalyze everything and try to fix what isn’t yours to fix.I love your mouth when it’s sassy and your heart when it’s running around like it’s got no self-preservation.I love that fake little snort-laugh you do when you’re about to cry but don’t want anyone to notice.”
She laughs.Just a little.Small and cracked and trying not to fall apart.She covers her face with one hand.
“I love you,” I say again, firmer this time.“And yeah, I’m fucking terrified.What if I’m not enough?What if I fuck up?But I’m not walking away.Not unless you look me in the eye and tell me to go.”
Silence.
Then she looks at me.
Eyes full.Shoulders shaking.Lips parted like a question she’s been holding in her mouth for days.
“You love me,” she whispers.
I nod.
“And you waited until I was halfway through the door to tell me?”
