Page 26 of Christmas Crisis
When we got back to Miranda’s apartment, we wound down on the couch for half an hour, eating a late-night pizza and watching TV before she headed into the bedroom.
It was such a perfect day. Not the right time to have a heavy conversation about me. I wanted to share that part of myself with her, but there was also no urgency about it. The moment would present itself soon enough.
Once I told her, she’d know all of me. That thought filled me with an intense longing.
Only Miranda made me feel that way.
Chapter seven
Miranda
NOW
Isettled into Leo’s spare bedroom with a weird feeling in my gut. So much had happened, but now that the initial frenzy of problem-solving had passed and I felt calmer, I could reflect on just how mind-bending the past forty-eight hours had been. I’d gone to sleep the day before Thanksgiving expecting to wake up to a hangover. Instead, I’d woken up to a mess.
Less than two days later, I felt sane again.
Because of Leo.
It stung that my boss had essentially exiled me for a month over something that would likely blow over in a few days, but it helped to have someone to commiserate with.
When the grumpy server had pushed the oversized sombrero onto my head tonight, it was like he’d hit me with a bolt of clarity. This initial crisis with Stone would pass. The collective internet wasn’t known for its long-term memory. The issue was whether Stone would still have a career once the gossip died down. He was easy to dismiss, too new in the public eye to survive being a pariah—even if everyone forgot the specifics after a few days. Audiences could be vicious that way. They wouldn’t remember exactly what he’d done. He’d simply be canceled and forgotten except for the occasional trivia question about the influencer guy who cheated on Naomi Butler.
But I wouldn’t let the worst happen. A few more photo ops with the natural affection between Leo and me on full display, and Stone should be in the clear.
And with our urgent fire cooled to embers, I could focus on the nagging loose thread in the back of my mind, the one I’d been compartmentalizing like a champ since Halloween. The dystopic painting mocked me from its familiar place on the wall. I needed to confront my sombrero-inspired epiphany.
Leo.
My best friend, my confidant, my partner in crime, and now, my pretend boyfriend.
After our fight, we couldn’t return to exactly what we had before. Where did we go from here?
Leo, not Stone, was the most pressing question mark in my future.
Was his ability to soothe my soul and make me feel safe a good thing? Or something I needed to learn to do for myself? For both our sakes.
I’d run to him, knowing he’d help me. It scared me how quickly I’d surrendered to the relief of letting him. But maybe this should be the last time. Because after he’d invited me to stay with him for as long as I needed to, as he’d patted my thigh and offered me assurances that he’d help me see this thing through, I didn’t know where role-playing ended, and reality began. Everything felt real.
Reaching up, I touched the places on my forehead and cheek where he’d kissed me at the arcade.
My fingers drifted to my lips.
He’d always been clear that the connection between us was, in fact, real. But it could never be everything.
He could never give me everything.
Leo’s presence in my life had been an anchor for two years. But it was time to reevaluate. This mess had brought us back together, and after the magical day we had, I was grateful for the chance to cleanse away the bitterness of our argument. But it shouldn’t create a path to go back to what we were before those hurled words.
Back to wishing for something from Leo that he could never give me.
Brushing my fingers along my cheek again, I recalled the last time I’d been in this apartment, in August. I shut my eyes against the memory of what had happened in Leo’s bed.
A soft tapping at the door was followed by Leo poking his head into the room.
“Hey, Panda,” he said, rubbing a hand over his face. My breath stuttered at the sight of his shirtless torso over the waistband of his pajama bottoms, his tall body silhouetted in the doorframe. I eyed his chest hair, remembering running my fingers through it the night of Marley and James’s wedding. “I got up to grab some water and heard you moving around… Can’t sleep?”
Shaking my head, I sat up in bed and flipped the switch on the nightstand lamp. “Too wired after everything.”
