Page 34 of Not Home Alone

She slams her beer bottle down on the coffee table, on a crocheted coaster of a reindeer butthole, gets up, and says, “I don’t think I can do this. I’ll find another way to save my dad’s store.” And then she marches out of the living room.

“I was being hilarious.” I catch up with her in the foyer. “Aren’t you impressed that I’ve seen that clip from Love Actually?”

She stops in front of the stairs, turns to me, and says, “Let’s circle back to the breakup part. We end this when I go back to Ann Arbor?”

“Yeah, I’ll have to go back to New York even if I decide to take over my dad’s company, just to wrap things up.”

“Wait—you mean there’s a chance you’ll move back to Holly Grove?”

“Yeah, but you don’t have to worry about it.”

“Oh, I don’t? Wow! That is the best news I’ve had since last night when I drove up to this house.”

“Okay, for real, you’re going to have to pretend to be intimate with me when there are other people around. Especially at my family’s Christmas party when Quinn’s there.”

“Okay. For real, if you’re going to pretend to be my boyfriend, then you better act like you can’t take your hands off me.”

“That’s not a thing. Nobody would buy it.”

“Excuse me?”

“Nothing against you, that’s just not a me thing.” Okay, I’m hoping she’s forgotten about the night ten years ago when I couldn’t keep my hands off her for a few hours. I can tell from her smug expression that she remembers. “It’s not a me thing now, I mean.”

She crosses her arms in front of her chest. “I think we should practice kissing. How we’d do it in public in case of mistletoe, I mean.”

Fuck.

I was inches from a clean getaway.

“I think we’ll figure it out in the moment if it ever comes to that,” I tell her.

“Oh, sure sure sure!” she says. She is way too delighted by my response. “I get it. You’re afraid you won’t be able to handle kissing me in private.” She gives me an over-the-top conspiratorial wink. “Don’t worry, hot stuff. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Oh, hell no.

“Wait,” I say, with urgency. “I changed my mind.”

She uncrosses her arms, brown eyes widening as her chin tips up and her lips part.

I lean down to kiss her. Slowly. Determined. And just a little bit hungry for sugar cookies after all.

When I’m inches away from her face, she suddenly turns her head, and my mouth lands on her cheek.

“Haha!”

I pull away from her.

She snort-laughs. “Got you!”

So that’s how it’s gonna be. I shove my hands in my pockets and give her my best sad face. “Yeah. You got me. Haha. I deserved that.”

“I win!” she says, clapping and hopping in place like an evil bunny.

She has no idea how good of an actor I am. “Yeah. You win. I lost. I lost you. You think I don’t know that I lost you?” I reach out to gently push a strand of wavy blonde hair from her face. She catches her breath. She is totally buying what I’m selling. “I don’t blame you for not even wanting to fake date me.”

Her lower lip juts out. “I didn’t say⁠—”

“No, I don’t even deserve to fake date you. I mean look at you.” I stare down at her, locking eyes with her. I brush the back of my fingers across her cheek. “You really are perfect. That’s why I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you, Tucker. For ten years.” Her breath hitches and she seems too scared to move. “The truth is, I saw you three times before last night. I saw you walking down Main Street eight years ago. I was driving by. You were wearing a hat and scarf, and you were laughing with your dad. You looked happy. I was glad. Two years later, I was walking by a restaurant, and I saw you inside with friends. You were facing the window and your hair was up. You wore a red sweater and red lipstick, and it looked like you were singing. I was jealous of the people you were with. Especially the guys. But I was still glad that you looked happy.”