Liquid brims in her eyes and she quickly looks away, giving the dog attention.
“Bree, is it?—?”
She wipes her cheeks and turns back to me. Studying my face like she’s trying to solve a puzzle, she simply says, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I hold her gaze.
The tension in her shoulders eases as if something old yet seismic has shifted between us. Like the terrain she thought she knew isn’t the wasteland she expected.
“The guys are curious about you, by the way. They keep asking how my ‘mail-order bride arrangement’ is working out.”
Bree almost chokes on her cocoa. “What did you tell them?”
“That I got lucky with the algorithm.” I wink, and she rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling again and it lingers until we say goodnight many hours later—I can hear it in her voice through the wall of pillows that separates us.
The next day,Bree and I head downtown for toy drive shopping. Armed with a wish list and the donation money from the mayor’s office, we fill carts with puzzles, art supplies, science kits, and enough stuffed animals to start a small zoo.
“Every child deserves something special for Christmas, not just the easy-to-shop-for ones,” I explain when Bree questions the complexity of a particular robotics set. “I would’ve loved this when I was a kid.”
She gives me a curious look. “You’re like a kid on a permanent Christmas morning.”
“Best time of the year. Magic is in the air. Anything seems possible.”
After loading our haul into the truck, we return to the townhouse and then take the dog on a late afternoon stroll through the Christmas Market. As daylight fades, it’s a winter wonderland, all twinkling lights and fresh snow from last night’s dusting.
“It’s beautiful,” Bree admits, looking up at the massive town Christmas tree glowing under the flocked branches.
I lean my shoulder into her, wondering if I can wrap my arm around her or if we could hold hands like a real couple. Is that too far?
Her hand slides into mine, sending a jolt through me that I try to conceal. Bree is holding my hand? Of her own free will? Maybe we were both mistaken about things.
As we start toward the exit under the Merry Kiss Me arch, she glances over her shoulder with a wistful look in her eye.
“See? Even you can’t resist Christmas charm,” I say.
Her gaze flicks to mine. “Oh, I can resist.”
I lift an eyebrow. “Is that so? But can you resist this?” I scoop up a handful of snow, pack it into a ball, and toss it.
The snowball catches her on the arm and her mouth drops open in shock. “You did not just?—”
My laughter is cut short by a perfectly aimed snowball to my chest. Before I know it, we’re engaged in full combat, dodging behind trees and benches, lobbing snowy missiles at each other while the dog nips at the exploding snowballs, yapping happily.
I chase Bree behind the gazebo, catching her around the waist as she tries to escape.
We’re both breathless with laughter, cheeks flushed from cold and exertion. When she turns in my arms to smash a final snowball on top of my head, our faces end up inches apart.
The laughter fades. Her hazel eyes, flecked with chips of amber I’ve never noticed before, drop to my lips. I lean in slightly, drawn by something I can’t name. The space closes between us and I’m certain she can feel the thunder of my pulse.
A group of carolers starts singing nearby, snapping us out of the moment.
Bree steps back, brushing snow from her coat with sudden intensity. “We should get the dog home and warm,” she says, voice slightly higher than normal.
“Right. Of course.” I try to ignore the stirring in my chest, the lingering warmth where her body pressed against mine.
Once back at the house, the dog dozes by the fire. Bree reviews the toy wish list, checking it twice. I steal glances at her profile. The slope of her nose, the curve of her lips, and the way she absently tucks her hair behind her ear while tapping the pen against the counter.
For the first time since this charade began, I find myself truly wondering and hoping that this could become something real. That the pretend marriage forced upon us might evolve into something we both actually want.
