“You’re the one who suggested?—”
“I mean it, Luke.”
He holds his hands up. “Okay, okay. I promise.”
I nibble on my bottom lip, contemplating what to say, when his eyes shift down to my lips. It’s only for a split second, but I catch the movement, and bad memories from our kiss in the past come creeping back into my thoughts. A lovely reminder of how one kiss can cause a lifetime of pain.
“You can’t kiss me.”
“Even if there’s mistletoe?” His mouth quirks up with a grin.
“I’m being serious. I know you don’t remember that night, but kissing you almost cost us our friendship. I can’t?—”
He places his hand onto mine. I countone, two, threebeforereleasing his hand and staring down at the burgundy-colored carpet. “Everything will be okay,” he promises.
Luke and I have seen each other through every stage of life—the good, the bad, the ugly, and a lot of the embarrassing. We have this way of reading each other in a way that doesn’t require words.
He smiles, bumping into my shoulder, and my worries seem to drift away.
This weekend isn’t about us, I remind myself. It’s about Luke finding closure with his dad. And I’m here to support him in that. He’s going to need a little comic relief, someone to lean on, and let's face it, he could really use a dose of Christmas spirit. I can be that person for him. That’s why I’m here. That’s my focus.
Not the fact that we have to pretend to date, and I’m terrified it could cause a shift between us.
Chapter Eleven
Luke
“If you come out of that bathroom naked and we collide into each other, I will die. Right here in your grandmother’s house.” Olivia waves her hands in the air as she rambles on.
“This isn’tThe Proposal.”
“Then what isthis?” she squeals, gesturing wildly to a red-and-pink quilt.
I lay out my things on the bathroom counter before looking through the mirror at Olivia. My brow rises in question as I study her for a moment and shrug my shoulders. “One of my Nonni’s quilts?”
“Or is it the‘baby maker’blanket? Your grandmother did mention that she wanted great-grandchildren running around.”
“Well, it takes more thanjustsleeping in a bed together to create children. Do I need to give you the birds-and-the-bees talk?”
My smirk grows as her cheeks redden. Olivia begins to bite her thumbnail. It’s something she does when she’s nervous. I understand it’s about us sleeping in the same bed together. Idon’t think it’s as big of a deal as she’s making it out to be. Or maybe it is? Because the thought of sharing the same space with her at night, feeling her warmth next to me, sends a zip of electricity through every one of my nerves.
“It’s not a big deal, Liv. We’ve fallen asleep on the couch together before,” I say, hoping it’ll help settle her worries.
I turn around to face her as she holds my gaze, shades of green and gold peppering her eyes. I drift my focus over the planes of her face. Over the constellations of freckles dusting her cheeks. Over her mess of crimson-colored tangles. Over her nose that’s short and curved at the tip. She’s absolutely stunning, and I’m so gone for her that I’ll take whatever little slice she’ll give me, even if it’s all I'll ever get.
When Olivia told my family we were dating, I was completely blindsided. I knew coming here would be stressful, and I asked her to join me so I could have someone in my corner. It felt like a solid plan at the time. Leave it to my family to take one look at us and jump to conclusions.
Do I want those assumptions to be true?Absolutely. But I have to make sure that I’m careful because I’ve risked losing her before, and I refuse to do it again.
It’s why I’ve been so careful not to cross any lines with Olivia, why I’ve stood on the sidelines, watching her give time and attention to guys who never really see her—not the way I do—and now I can’t help wondering if this is my chance.
Is this the moment I get to show her how incredible I think she is? She made me promise this wouldn’t change anything between us, but what if this is something more? Maybe it was hearing her call me hers or watching her jump in to defend me without hesitation, but that moment changed the way we looked at each other.
I’ve been pretending for so long that I could keep us in this safe, platonic bubble. I used to think that staying friends was my only option to hold onto her, but maybe I’ve been lying tomyself. I’m standing on the edge of something I’ve wanted for longer than I care to admit.
What if this fake relationship isn’t just a way to survive the weekend…but the beginning of something real?God, is this your plan? Is this your way of answering a prayer I've been saying for years?
I don’t have to lay it all out for her—not yet, anyway. But this weekend can be my chance to show her—not just tell her—what it could be like if we blur the lines a little.
