“‘And to all a good night!’” everyone finishes together.
Guests begin drifting to their rooms with calls of “Merry Christmas Eve!” and “See you in the morning!”
Reese and I are among the last to leave after a pooch potty break. I have Pookie tucked under my arm in her new Christmas pajamas—which, unsurprisingly, she looks adorable in.
The walk to my room feels longer than it should. We’re both quiet, the weight of the situation settling over us. I’m going to share a room with Reese Marchiano. My brother’s best friend. The guy I’ve been halfway in love with since I was sixteen.
The weather outside is frightful and the warmth in my chest is delightful. I’m all about letting it snow, however, the forecast can’t possibly predict what’s going to happen next because we have snowhere to go, but closer …
CHAPTER 8
REESE
Room twenty-three feels smaller than it did when I was up here earlier. Then again, I am running on a major sleep deficit.
Or maybe it’s because of the details, including the turned-down bed with chocolates on the pillows, the couch that’s been made up with sheets and a blanket, and the way Rebecca’s sweet scent mingles with pine from the garland draped over the mantel.
Or perhaps it’s because I’m about to spend the night in the same room as the woman I just realized I’m falling for.
“I’ll take the couch,” I say, because that much is obvious.
She sets Pookie down, and the dog bounds toward it, scrambling for a boost since she can’t climb up herself.
“Pooks, you’re sleeping in the bed with me.” Rebecca plops her on the mattress.
The dog whines and looks between us like she’s being asked to choose sides in a custody battle.
Before I can stop myself, I scoop her up. “Come here, drama queen.” Pookie burrows into my arms with a satisfied grunt as her little corkscrew tail wags. I set her on the couch and she looks up at me with satisfaction in her bug eyes like I’m her new favorite person.
“Pookie, seriously?” Rebecca crosses her arms, mock upset. “I feed you. I buy you expensive treats. And you choose him?”
I can’t help my grin, trying not to look smug as I scratch behind the pug’s ears. “What can I say? She has good taste.”
Rebecca murmurs, “Yeah, she does.”
Then, she and I do an awkward dance where we both start to speak at the same time and then go to grab the pajamas from the gift shop bag. Our mouths open and close as if we’re not sure what to say or how to say it.
“Please, go first.”
“No, you’re my guest. I insist.”
With a tuck of my chin, I disappear into the bathroom. I take a quick shower, marveling at how even the bath products are Christmas-themed with minty, candy cane-scented body wash, sugar cookie shampoo and conditioner.
After I put on the red plaid flannel PJs, I brush my teeth—thank you, Noella, for including this in your turndown service.
I glimpse my reflection in the mirror. My mother would love to see me wearing these pajamas because she always got me a pair for Christmas until I eventually thought I was too cool for them. I also know she always liked Rebecca. On more than one occasion, she said, “That girl is going places,” but added that she hoped she never went far. Being here, with her, I feel comfortable in a way that makes me think about lazy and cozy Christmas mornings and not having anywhere to be.
When I emerge, Rebecca is waiting with her own set of pajamas clutched in her arms. Our eyes meet for half a second before she darts past me into the bathroom.
I settle onto the couch, testing it out. It’s fairly comfortable, though I’m not sure how much sleep I’m going to get knowing she’s merely a few feet away.
The shower turns on and Pookie and I have a staring contest. It’s like she’s asking me whether I plan to stick around or if I’m going to break her mom’s heart.
Whoa. Where did that thought come from?
My ears are still warm a few minutes later when Rebecca steps out of the bathroom in matching plaid pajamas. Her auburn hair is loose around her shoulders instead of styled for the stage. She looks younger like this. More like herself.
And absolutely devastating.
