Page 45 of Christmas Crisis
I waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. We slid into bed, and he flicked off the lamp, shrouding the room in moonlight. A moment later, his arms wrapped around me.
“This okay?” he asked gruffly.
“It would have been stranger if you hadn’t.” I melted into his embrace. For the past week, we’d shared a bed. Once I’d gone to him the night of the sombrero serenade, we’d never stopped. Never talked about whether we should. But I understood why he was asking. In Coleman Creek, everything was magnified. Being together in this house, surrounded by my past, meant something.
“Do you have specific plans for when your sisters get back? Anything I should know?” He whispered into the darkness.
“What do you mean?”
His hold on me tightened. “I know we’re going to tell them we’re dating, that we made it official after the wedding, but is there anything else? Some piece of backstory you wanted to get straight?”
I bit my bottom lip, considering. “I don’t think so. They’ve seen us together… just…make it seem real.”
His warm breath caressed my neck as he splayed his hand across my belly. “That won’t be hard.”
I knew he meant it wouldn’t be difficult since we’d shared a bed so many nights before, and we’d been doing a good job with this ruse for a week.
But oh, how I wished he meant it another way!
His soft shaft against my backside and his forearm over mine were nothing new. And it had all been fine a year ago. Manageable. This closeness. But now, things felt less benign. Dishonest somehow.
Since I’d decided to put distance between us after our fake dating was over, that expiration date made the moment bittersweet.
But I couldn’t keep banging my head against the brick wall of knowing Leo didn’t want me. After the night he’d pushed his erection against me and whispered my name—I continued to force that memory aside, knowing he hadn't meant it—and after the vehemence of our fight on Halloween, I’d accepted that we could never go back to the way things were before the summer.
We’d reached a tipping point. The past week had proven that.
So why did lying in his arms feel completely, utterly, indescribably right? My beautiful, painful limerence.
12 MONTHS AGO - DECEMBER
“You want to do what?”
“Fake date her.”
I jumped off Stone’s couch and began pacing in the open space between it and the dining table.
“Naomi Butler?” I asked again, as though having him repeat what he’d just said would change it.
“Yes. Since it’s a quick shoot, this could help generate buzz until it comes out in the summer.”
“You think people will talk about your movie because you and Naomi are dating?”
He shook his head with a smile, as though I’d asked a silly question. “C’mon. The public eats that shit up. And it wouldn’t be real. Just for, like, the internet and stuff.” He leaned back. “I know you get it. I saw you watching a reel about Zendaya and that Spider-Man guy.”
“Pretty sure they’reactuallydating.”
“But would anyone even care if they weren’t?” Stone reasoned. “Shoshanna suggested it. She thinks it’s a great idea—”
“Oh, well, ifShoshannasaid it—”
“Babes, be so one hundred right now. You know how it is. Naomi’s people were into the idea too.”
“I don’t know… It just seems a little…unhinged. And risky.”
Stone stood behind me and put his hands on my shoulders. “Miranda, think about it. It’s perfect. You and I are already completely undercover. No one in your life knows about us except your friend Leo, and you can tell him what’s up. Then we can just keep doing exactly what we’re doing. No cap. The only difference is that when I’m out in public, sometimes I’ll be with Naomi. Shoshanna told me celebrities do this all the time.”
“And Naomi’s okay with it?”
