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“Gingerbread construction isn’t exactly high on the Gordon family’s list of approved Christmas activities. Unless it earns us money or brings money to the charities my mom is in charge of, it doesn’t make the list.”

“Not even as a kid?” I couldn’t fathom the idea of not even getting to experience this at least once as a child.

Harry shook his head.

“That’s kinda sad, Harry.”

“I didn’t know any better to be sad about it, if that makes sense.” He bumped my shoulder with his. “Besides, getting to do it for the first time with you makes it pretty hard to feel like I missed out.”

Now it was my turn for my cheeks to flush, but he saved me from having to respond. “And I’ve got a lot of cooking experience these days, so how hard can it be to decorate this thing?”

I smiled. “Harder than you think.”

That turned out to be an understatement. While Harry was a genius in the kitchen, that skill set clearly didn’t transfer to decorating gingerbread houses. We managed to build the house itself, but when it came to the actual design of the candies, Harry was a lost cause. We spent more time laughing than putting actual candies on, and when the timer went off announcing our time was up, our house looked like it had been decorated by a five-year-old.

But I couldn’t be upset about it because it was the most fun I’d had since coming back home. Truthfully, I hadn’t paid any attention to my parents or brothers the whole time. It had felt like Harry and I were in our own little cocoon, and it was the first time I’d actually felt happy since we got here.

Dad did a slow lap around everyone’s gingerbread houses. He stopped at ours for a long beat, studying it and then arching a brow at me, but I couldn’t stifle my smile as I glanced at Harry. We were absolutely going to lose, and I didn’t even care the way I would’ve in the past because Harry was here, looking handsome as hell with frosting on his cheek—how did that even get there?—and his gray eyes shining with happiness when he looked at me.

“I hate to say it, but Eric wins again.”

“Yes! Let’s go. Five-time champ over here!” Eric continued to celebrate, but all the noise faded as Harry and I kept our gazes locked on each other. I couldn’t look away even if I tried.

“Alright, everyone head to the living room for more Christmas movies,” Mom called. She had barely acknowledged me, but it didn’t sting like it had the last few days.

Harry grabbed my hand, leading the way toward the living room, but as soon as we got to the doorway of the kitchen, Eric hollered at us.

“Uh, Sammy?”

I turned. He was leaning against the wall with a shit-eating grin that was so similar to the one Bryce had when he was up to no good that it froze me to the spot. He pointed upward. “You two are under the mistletoe.”

I looked up and sure enough, there was a small sprig tied with red ribbon, pinned to the doorframe directly above where Harry and I were standing. When the hell had my mom started putting mistletoe up?

“Hey, I don’t make the rules,” Eric said. He was grinning wide. “You gotta kiss.”

I nibbled my lip and then glanced up at Harry. His gray eyes seemed slightly darker as his gaze locked on mine, and I swallowed thickly. This was fine. This was good, even. We were supposed to be boyfriend and girlfriend so of course we wouldn’t have a problem kissing each other.

I’d kissed plenty of guys who meant nothing to me, so why was I even second-guessing this?

Because it was Harry.

I shoved that thought away. No, I could do this. It was just a kiss. It didn’t mean anything.

“Okay, okay,” I said, rolling my eyes at Eric with a lightness I didn’t feel. I turned back to Harry. “Let’s just⁠—”

The rest of the sentence evaporated.

Because Harry was looking at me with an expression I’d never seen on him before—or maybe I had; maybe he’d been looking at me like this for over a year and I’d just refused to see it. His gray eyes were intent and so goddamn honest that it made my breath catch. He was looking at me like I was the only thing in the room that mattered.

Nothing about this has been pretend for me.

My heart was hammering. I could do this. Just one quick kiss. Get it over with and move on with the day.

I put my hand on his chest and rose onto my toes, tilting my chin up. His hand reached up, cupping my cheek, his thumb once again brushing tenderly against my skin as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to mine and⁠—

Oh.

Oh.