Chapter 7
seven
Reese
Winning feels good. Like, really good.
But the actual process was just as satisfying. When Cole threatened to turn up the heat, he wasn’t kidding. If distraction was his aim, he went above and beyond. I barely thought about Megan and Brady. I did, however, think about kissing Cole plenty of times.
And not just for performance’s sake. Maybe that should worry me, but I promised myself and him to just have fun, and I’m not going to ruin a perfectly fun Christmas party by overthinking things.
I’m a grown woman with perfectly functioning eyes and hormones.
I’d worry about myself if I hadn’t thought about kissing him.
But I’m also genuinely grateful to him. It’s hard to imagine what this evening would’ve been like without Cole here.
Tess isn’t mean enough that she would’ve made me do the gingerbread contest by myself, but I’m not sure what her plan was before she found out I was bringing him.
It would’ve been unbearable to lose to Megan and Brady—by myself.
I can just see it: my gingerbread house collapsing while they kiss over their trophy.
Next on the docket is dinner, which Hannah and Tyler are in charge of. Glazed ham, mashed potatoes, green beans, and homemade rolls are underway while the rest of us clean up the gingerbread house aftermath and set the table.
Conversation during the actual meal is fairly seamless.
Cole doesn’t have a shy bone in his body, so he integrates with no problem.
I feel weirdly proud of my fake boyfriend as he makes everyone laugh and pulls out a few stories to entertain.
Even Brady’s chilled out a bit. I have no clue why he seemed so tense about Cole from the moment we arrived.
It’s like he forgot that he broke up with me.
Cole and I are on dish duty afterward—he scrubs, I rinse, our arms pressed against each other.
I could scoot over and give him more space, but I don’t, and neither does he.
“It’s dark,” he says, nodding at the window above the sink.
I can barely see the fuzzy outline of the pine trees, and that’s only thanks to the white of the snow on their branches and their movement in the wind. Little ice crystals have formed a thin lattice around the edges of the window.
“Excellent observation,” I say. “Sometimes that happens at night.”
“I’m afraid of the dark, remember?”
I shoot him a look as he hands me a soapy plate, his eyes full of the type of mischief that gets my heart going.
“Hey, I didn’t make the rules,” he says.
“You’re more of the break-the-rules type, aren’t you?”
“Only if they deserve to be broken. Speaking of rules…you’ve broken one of ours.”
I look over at him, my brow puckered. “What? No, I haven’t.”
“Maybe not broken a rule, but you haven’t held up your end of things.”
I frown, but it only takes a second for me to realize what he’s talking about. “The post—for Bree.”
He smiles and nods, then wipes his hands on a dish towel and grabs his phone.
He puts his arm around me, and I slip into the perfect hollow beneath his shoulder, then wrap my arms around his waist, clasping my hands on the other side.
I know I’m allowed this type of physical contact with Cole, but it still makes my heart race.
“This is for you, Bree,” I say, smiling at the camera and waiting for him to snap the picture.
His finger is poised on the shutter button, but it hovers. He turns his head toward me, uses his fingers to tip my cheek up, then presses his lips against it.
His lips linger there for a few seconds before he pulls away.
I look over at him, and his eyes meet mine.
“For Bree,” he says.
“For Bree,” I repeat, hoping I don’t sound as breathless as I feel.
He pulls up the picture and looks at it for a minute.
I’m dying to know what he’s thinking.
“That’s going on the ‘Gram,” he says.
“But not on your business account…”
He chuckles. “The gingerbread houses in the background might be able to count for marketing, but no. This one’s going on my personal page. Speaking of which…we should probably follow each other. Bree will undoubtedly check. Probably already has.”
We exchange account information, and I get back to the dishes before I can succumb to the desire to go through his feed. Maybe I’m more like Bree than I care to admit.
“Hey”—he nudges me with his elbow—“you sure you don’t wanna stay the night?”
I let the warm water from the faucet run over the suds on the plate he hands me until the water runs clear. Part of me does want to stay—the part that’s enjoying this game with Cole.
But the other part of me realizes the smart thing is to stop while we’re ahead. To stop exactly when we said we would.
“No.” I set the plate on the drying rack since the dishwasher is already full and running. “We should get going soon.”
“Okay,” he says, his tone easy.
Hannah pops up next to me. “Thanks for doing those.” She smiles at Cole. “Reese knows I hate dishes. Looks like you’re almost done, though. We’ll start the movie in ten.” She squeezes my shoulders, then leaves.
I glance at Cole, and he lifts a brow like are we staying for the movie?
It’s nine o’clock, and we have an hour-plus drive ahead of us.
But then it’s over. The carriage turns back into a pumpkin, and Cole turns into…not my fake boyfriend.
“Fine,” I say. “We can stay for the movie. But we’re leaving right after.”
“Agreed.”
We wash up and head to the huge gray sectional that faces a large mounted TV with a pine bough strung above.
Christmas pillows cover the couch, and a wicker basket of blankets flanks either end.
Hannah and Tyler are already snuggled up while she points a remote at the TV and the others get situated.
“Shoot,” Hannah says. “I thought it was on Netflix. Who has Disney+?”
I raise my hand and put the other out for the remote. “Whether I can remember my login information is another matter.” I sit on the arm of the couch and start the laborious process of typing in my email address while Cole grabs a blanket and takes the seat next to me.
My eyes drift to Brady and Megan. They’re on the opposite end of the couch—probably not by accident—on the long chaise part. Brady’s back rests against the cushion behind him, his knees bent, while Megan sits between them.
My mind flashes back to a night when Brady and I watched a movie at his place. There was no intertwining of bodies as we watched. We sat next to each other. Like normal humans.
Megan’s gaze flicks to mine, and there’s a hint of uncertainty in her eyes.
I smile at her, then finish putting in what I hope is my password.
“Success!” I say, raising my arms in victory when it works.
“Get over here, you.” Cole pulls me ruthlessly from the arm of the couch.
I fall onto his lap, and his arm catches me behind the back. Keeping it there, he helps me shift my legs so I’m beside him instead of on top of him, then he drapes the blanket over us.
I have to hand it to Cole. He understood the assignment.
My two minutes of pretending to be his girlfriend for Bree look like a kindergarten class’s attempt at performing Hamlet compared to what Cole’s managed here.
In no world do we come away from tonight with anyone thinking he’s not into me and I’m not into him.
It’s entirely possible that not even I will see through the acting.
His two-date limit has undoubtedly given him ample practice with a whole roster of women. Maybe Bree isn’t as crazy as I thought. Maybe she just got wrapped up in Cole’s impossible charm. She thought she had something, and then it was gone as soon as she got it.
I feel kind of bad for her.
Whatever happens after tonight, I’m not going to be the next Bree. I’m going to let Cole go like the free spirit he is.
Even the most hopeless of souls can’t resist the atmosphere of a dark room lit by the glow of a TV screen playing a heartwarming holiday movie, the twinkling lights of a fully decorated Christmas tree in the corner.
Cole’s arm is still around me, and even though part of me is whispering time to start pulling back, Reese, there are two counter-arguments to overpower it.
First, the show is not over—literally (because Home Alone just started) or metaphorically. We came here with a purpose, and that purpose is ongoing. I need to see this through.
Second, I get another two hours of this fun with Cole. I’m not about to waste it. We’ll go home, and that’ll be the end of it, but for now, I’m going to let myself enjoy cuddling up to my fake boyfriend while we watch a classic Christmas movie.
I pull the blanket up a little higher and snuggle deeper into him.
He glances down at me, the light of the TV screen reflecting in his blue eyes as they search my face.
I smile, and he smiles back—like he always does—before resting his head against mine to watch the movie.
This. This is what’s missing from my favorite nook at home. It’s almost perfect in its coziness, but having someone to snuggle up to like this?
That would make it heaven.
I want that heaven.
Maybe someday I’ll get it, but for now, I’ll settle for the fake version. Even in the pretend version, there’s a sense of belonging.
When we get to the part where the family leaves for Paris, Cole shifts next to me. He does it again when Kevin comes down the stairs to an empty house. I’m probably giving him a dead arm or something with the way I’m sitting.
I look up at him to ask, but the words stick in my throat at the little shimmer in his eyes. I lean forward slightly to make sure I’m not imagining things.
He glances at me, then clears his throat. “You want some popcorn? I think I saw some in one of the grocery bags.”
“Um, yeah,” I say, moving to let him out. “Want me to help?”
“I’ve got it.” He winks at me, and I wonder if I imagined it all. Cole Bradley’s eyes gleam with mischief, not tears.
I watch him get up and walk to the kitchen, and my body gives a little shiver without his warmth right beside me. I miss him already.