I pause, still staring at the opened notebook and pen in my hand. "I think we should keep our story as close to reality as possible. Fewer details to remember that way." I continue without looking up at him.
"Smart. We met at work, felt the chemistry, and what? I asked you out?"
I glance up finally, meeting his eyes. "Yes, you asked me out, and I said no."
His eyebrows rise slightly. "You rejected me? That's our story?"
"Repeatedly." I can't help the small smile that tugs at my lips. "You were persistent, though. Kept finding excuses to stop by my office, bringing me coffee, leaving notes on my desk with daily cheesy jokes and always ended them by asking me to dinner."
"So, I wore you down?" He looks amused now, playing along.
"You wouldn't leave me alone," I say, warming to the fiction we're creating. "Always showing up with that... stupid dimple and those eyes, and your charm.'"
"And then?"
"And then I finally said yes." I take another sip of wine, feeling more in control now. "But only because I needed you to stop distracting my team. Zoe practically swoons every time you walk by."
"So our first date was...?"
"Dinner. Italian. You tried to impress me with your wine knowledge."
"Did it work?" His voice softens, and for a moment, it feels like we're talking about something real.
"Maybe a little," I admit, looking down at my notes again. "But I didn't let you know that until the third date."
"And now we're madly in love." His eyes dance with amusement.
I roll mine. "Let's not overdo it. We're in a new relationship. Committed, but not sewing our names on matching Christmas stockings.”
"Got it. Smitten but not whipped."
The burrata arrives, a cloud of creamy cheese nestled among heirloom tomatoes and drizzled with aged balsamic. Sebastian gestures for me to go first, and I scoop a portion onto my plate.
"So what exactly does this trip entail?" he asks. "Beyond facing down your ex and his fiancée."
I take a bite—the cheese is ridiculously good. "It's a week in Aspen. My family and the Harpers—that's Ethan's family—have neighboring houses. We do the usual winter activities: skiing, cookie decorating, snowman building, etc. There's a big dinner the last night where everyone dresses up, and a casual gift exchange afterward."
"Sounds nice."
"It is." I stare at my plate and automatically grab my wine. "Or it was."
The wine turns slightly bitter on my tongue as I swallow. "This year it's going to be a special kind of torture. Ethan showing off Olivia while his mom will definitely corner me for an awkward 'we still love you' conversation."
"Like I said earlier, his loss." Sebastian's voice is unexpectedly gentle.
I clear my throat. "Anyway, there are some 'couple-specific' traditions too. There's the annual snowman building contest—we compete to make the most creative snowman. And the Harper-Whitaker Olympics."
"The what now?"
"It's this ridiculous competition my dad and Mr. Harper cooked up years ago. A trivia contest, a scavenger hunt through town, cookie decorating competition. All done in pairs."
"Sounds fun."
"It's absurdly competitive. My mom once accidentally tackled Mrs. Harper during a snowball fight."
He laughs, a warm sound that makes me smile.
"Oh, and there's the Mistletoe Challenge."
