Only for ninety minutes.
No talking after.
No kissing, but everything else we can fit in that brief window of time. Absolutely anythingand everything.
The sex has never been hotter, and I fucking hate it. I mean, I don’t hate it enough to stop, because I also love it, crave it, need it more than my next breath.
But fuck, I wish everything was different.
And now a fucking Christmas song is going to remind me of every mistake I made that led me to this moment.
The next song sears into my skin, too. Probably the whole playlist of Christmas pop music is going to be trauma-imprinted on my soul by the time we get to Pine Harbour.
Then, somewhere in the middle of song four, without looking at me, Rory murmurs, “It’s hard not being your favourite person anymore.”
The words hit like a sledgehammer.
I’m not sure what’s worse—her thinking that she’s not anymore, because of course she still is, or the weight of knowing that I’ll never get to say that out loud. That’s my secret to carry now, and it’s so fucking heavy.
Instead, I grip the steering wheel and try not to think about the way her voice cracked on that last word. Try not to remember the last time we made this drive together, my arm draped over the console, her bare knee pressed against my knuckles, singing along to the radio like we were the two happiest people in the world.
Now we’re just two liars, driving home to a family that thinks we’re still that happy.
God damn it.
As if Rory is stewing over the same thoughts, she suddenly asks, “So… what’s the plan when we get there?”
I try not to tense up, but I think she can feel myI don’t fucking knowreaction.
She takes a deep breath. “Because I was thinking—what if we, um… broke up again?”
Chapter 7
Rory
Garrett looks at me like I’ve got two heads. “Pardon?”
“You said it yourself; you don’t know how to explain our breakup.”
“I don’twantto explain it,” he growls. “It’s not anyone’s business but ours.”
“I agree.”
“So we should just tell people that.”
I can’t agree with that. “It won’t work.”
“Why not?”
“They won’t believe us.”
“That’s too bad for them, because it’s pretty fucking real.”
I rub my chest. Don’t I know it. “Just hear me out.”
“About a staged breakup?” He makes a face. “Once wasn’t enough for you?”
I ignore that dig.
