“Are you okay? I’m sorry I—” His ears turn pink as he brushes a hand over where I was rubbing. “Shit, Natalie. I wasn’t thinking.”
“It’s fine,” I assure him, more laughter bubbling up. “But what the hell were you trying to do?”
“Trying to make you laugh,” he replies, the color in his cheeks deepening to crimson.
“Well, clearly you succeeded.” I wipe at a tear forming at the corner of my eye from the overwhelming mirth. I don’t even understand why this is that funny. Like do I really find the sad, embarrassed look on his face hilarious? Or am I just giggly because there’s an effervescence fizzing inside of me and I don’t know what to do about it?
“I’m sorry. I think I missed what the intended joke was, though,” I finally say.
He swallows hard, the blush spreading and coating his neck in a patchy red blanket. “I, uh, was going to pretend to talk out of my ass like inAce Ventura.”
And that’s it. Laughter explodes from deep in my belly as I imagine stoic, broody Cole doing a Jim Carrey impression. “Okay, but wait because now I have to see that. Please, I’m begging.”
Cole stands over me, half concern and half what feels like admiration in his gaze. He pulls me tight against him, whispering, “I’m sorry.”
“Oh, look at you two,” my mom sighs nearby. “Standing under the mistletoe. Natalie, I think this is the first year you’re under there with someone of your own.” She nearly swoons.
I glance up at the evergreen hanging above us, then back at Cole, whose eyes take it in before meeting mine. I swallow hard, giving a tiny nod, hoping my mother doesn’t catch it.
He lowers his head, his lips brushing against mine in a tentative kiss that feels like an apology. Like he’s beating himself up disproportionately for bumping my head. I never knew a kiss could feel like this—warm and sweet—and still curl my toes. It feels like a grovel, and I’m compelled to reassure him I’m okay. To assuage the guilt even for a moment, as long as we’re like this.
He pulls away, pressing his lips to my forehead before resting his own there. “Promise me your head is okay.”
“Promise. Just a minor flesh wound. I probably won’t die until morning,” I whisper.
His lips press into a thin line. “Natalie?—”
“Who knew you were so easy to tease?” I laugh, tugging his hands as I lead him toward the bedroom. “Mama, prepare my burial; I fear I shan’t last the night.”
He pulls me against him, and my back hits his chest. The heat of his body envelops me as we step in tandem into the bedroom. “Not funny, D’Amore,” he murmurs against my ear.
“Oh, to be young and in love,” my mom sighs from behind us. “We’re leaving in ten to go to White’s Christmas Tree Farm.”
My stomach drops, a flurry of emotions swirling inside me—the fluttering sensations morphing into something deeper.
Happy. Confused. Safe. Terrified.
“You can shut the door behind you so we can have a break,” I whisper.
The door closes behind us and I separate from Cole, relaxing now that I’m in my bedroom.
Light lavender paint adorns the walls, and a well-loved floral bedspread sits on my vintage metal bronze bed frame. Fairy lights climb over my bookcases full of the teen romances that kept me company when I was home from school once a month. More lights twinkle against the dark window, night crawling in the back.
God, I love it here. Everything glows, and by extension, so do I.
Until I hear a rustle behind me and I remember that I’m not alone.
I’m enjoying our new game, but I still have so many unanswered questions looming over me. Namely, why Cole’s stayed in the shadows for so long when it doesn’t seem like he wants to be there anymore. What changed? Is he really just this dedicated to playing along? I don’t know. And those questionsare going to be super awkward to ask, but I need to. Soon. Before I get too attached to something that might not be real. Again.
CHAPTER
FIFTEEN
COLE
“Lora,love, I don’t think it’ll fit.”
“You can make it fit, Gary. I believe in you.”
