Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
Win: The flowers seemed like a cute detail. The latte a little forced, and now I’m beginning to think that those chocolates are guilt chocolates.
Soren: Guilt chocolates?
Win: Yes, you give them to me every time you ruin something.
Soren: What did I ruin that last time I handed you chocolates?
Win: My mood, it’s always my mood.
Soren: Wouldn’t they be moody chocolates?
Win: Do not start with me, Soren, or I swear . . . fuck. I can’t believe you just left. When did you leave, by the way? You never asked me to take care of your dead ficus.
Soren: We already established I don’t have a ficus.
Win: Because you killed it. I would’ve been happy to water it before you destroyed it.
Soren: If you need a ficus, I’ll have Gretchen order you one. Hell, I’ll get you a ficus farm.
Win: I don’t need a ficus. I probably need a dog.
Soren: You can’t take care of a dog. You’re too busy pretending you’re not unraveling.
Win: I thought you wanted to give me something to feel better for . . . well, you know what you did, Soren.
Soren: I’ll do whatever you want to make it up to you, Fred.
Win: Don’t call me Fred. That’s two strikes.
Soren: Fine. What do you want in exchange for not cutting me out of your life like last season’s throw pillows?
Win: It’s hard to think what could bring me joy.
Soren: ((stares suspiciously))
Win: Don’t you stare at me when I’m unraveling. What are you suspicious about? I should be the one wondering what you did that you had to run away to another country.
Soren: How do you know I’m in another country?
Win: It’s called the Winterberry telepathic system.
Soren: The what?
Win: I believe everyone in this town communicates telepathically.
Soren: That’s impossible.
Win: Either way, my grandmother learned it from Grandma Rita, who learned from your mom, who called your assistant to figure out why you’re avoiding her calls.
Soren: That’s . . . wow, I think I need to fire my assistant.
Win: Don’t you dare take away her job just because she can’t take the pressure of a small-town matriarch. Those women are tougher than any agent. They’ll make you sweat, cry, and scream until you confess.
Soren: That’s true.
Win: So, why are you in London?
Soren: I have work to do.
Win: As long as you’re back the week before Thanksgiving, I’m okay with your departure.
Soren: Why the week before Thanksgiving?
Win: Oh, didn’t I tell you? Well, I was able to get us an appointment with a photographer. He’s the best in the business. Then, we agreed to have Thanksgiving dinner with Aiden and her friends in Birchwood Springs.
Soren: Why would I want to go to Birchwood Springs for Thanksgiving?
Win: Darling, that’s the only way we can avoid our families—it’s either that or we have to be in Winterberry. You’re welcome.
Soren: Wait, I haven’t agreed to any of this.
Win: Last but not least, we’re going to spend Christmas at my parents’ this year.
Soren: Again, why would I want to do that?
Win: Listen, Soren, you started this. Now I need you to keep faking it ‘til Christmas.
Soren: Fake what?
Win: Us. We’re a couple going strong. You know how hard it was to pretend I knew you were in London while my mother delivered the news? I need us to have better communication.
Soren: I can’t fake this until Christmas.
Win: You owe me, Soren Thorn. This is how you repay me. I’m making it into The Wolfcraft Howler. All we need is to keep this relationship up and get ourselves a professionally taken picture.
Soren: What happened to the bakery?
Win: It doesn’t open until March. This is my chance to win Christmas.
Soren: The last time we tried to be an item, it was a fiasco.
Win: That’s why we’re avoiding Winterberry until our grand finale.
Soren: I don’t think I like this.
Win: You should’ve done your research before you asked for a favor.
Soren: I feel like you’re asking for my soul in return.
Win: No, just a few more weeks of fake dating.
Soren: You’re asking for a couple of months.
Win: It’s all the same, Soren. Be ready—and those kisses, they need to stay. The public wants them.
Soren: Fine. I agree to do this, but not a day longer than Christmas.
Win: Unless we decide to go for the fake family—that might take us into the next decade.
Soren: I’m hoping that’s a joke.
Win: You’d know if you were here, but since you chose to run away . . . maybe I’m not joking, and we’ll keep faking our way through life. Bye-bye, Thorn.