I smile into her hair and hold her gently, trying to not hold on too tight because I know this has an expiration date on it.
“No, sugar, I know how much this means to you because I knowyou.” Pulling away from her, I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. There’s an energy exchange between us as we stare at one another, our faces only a few inches apart. Sensing it, too, she leans away and pushes herself back on the couch so we’re further apart.
“Okay, well, thank you. I guess I should be going now,” she finally says after a pregnant pause. She pushes herself up from the couch and zips her coat up as she walks towards the door. She only stops when she hears me laughing from the couch. Turning to look at me, she pinches her nose up. “What are you laughing about?”
“Nothing, it’s just that some things never change. You still do that thing where, when you solve a problem or get what you want, you move right along to the next challenge ahead. Even if there’s still things left to do with your previous problem.”
“What is there left to figure out? You said you would marry me. Did you change your mind already?” Her face falls as her eyes grow wide with concern.
Pushing up onto my feet, I walk to meet her by the door. Standing in front of her, I reach out and pull her coat tighter around her so she doesn’t freeze on her way home.
“No, I didn’t change my mind, but it might be a good idea to talk about when and where we’re getting married, don’t you think?”
“Oh…I guess so.”
I nod slowly and smirk at her. Pulling her hood up around her heart-shaped face, I smile wide enough that I know she can see my dimples. An idea forms in my mind as I look at her, taking in her brown hair and fine features.
“Clear your weekend, sugar. I know where we’re going to get hitched. I hope you’re ready to become a Winters.”
She rolls her eyes and glares at me. “Please, I’ll always be a ‘Holly.’ Not even a fake marriage can change that.”
Taking a step forward, I hold onto the sides of her coat and love how she has to tip her chin up to look at me.
“We’ll see about that, sugar. We’ll see.”
CHAPTER 10
Nick
“Here we are, home sweet home,” I say, jiggling the key to my house and giving the front door a good shove. I’ve only been gone since mid-October, but it feels like I’ve been gone longer. My body vibrates with the hustle and bustle energy of the city as it’s already grown accustomed to the slower living of Evergreen. It’s crazy how quickly we fall back into old patterns.
“Wow, this place is stunning.”
Speaking of old patterns.
Stepping out of the way so she can come in, Noelle drags in her suitcase and takes in my historic home. I’m suddenly glad I left it as clean as I did when I left for Vermont last month even though, at the time, I had no idea I’d be bringing my childhood love back with me to become my wife.
Fake wife.
Temporary wife.
I have to remind myself more than I should that what we’re doing is only a means to an end—not some long lost fated lovers finding one another again type deal. We’re only doing what we’re doing so that she can take overHolly House and keep the inn in the family. Once she does that, I’ll be on my merry way, free as a bird once more.
Why does the sound of that make me feel so miserable?
“Did you restore it yourself?”
The sound of her voice pulls me from my own thoughts. Looking at her, I find she’s made her way into my living room and is running her hand along the original wainscoting I painstakingly stripped from years of paint and refinished by hand.
“I sure did. Top to bottom. I bought it a few years ago and hired some of the best restoration crews to help me bring her back to life.”
“Her?” she asks, raising a presumptuous brow at me.
I shrug. “The place has always felt like a ‘her.’”
She laughs and nods her head like she understands. I watch her as she moves from room to room, finding new things to look at and admire as she goes. While she takes in the place I call home, I take in her. How she walks with a softness many people lack even though she’s lost more than most people ever will. The way her eyes light up and her lips curl when she spots the family photo sitting on the mantel. For a moment, my mind plays a cruel trick on me and causes me to believe this could be real one day. Coming home from work, seeing her here, waiting for me. The illusion is shattered though when I follow her into the kitchen and she spots the small stone I keep on the windowsill behind the sink. Brows furrowed, she reaches for it and holds it in her hand before turning to look at me.
“Why do you still have this?” Her voice has a hint of hurt in it when she speaks. She drops her gaze to stare at the stone, turning it over in her hand.
