“Life imitating art.”
“Hush now,” I say into the pillow, but it’s muffled.
Nina pulls the pillow away from my face. “So, are you two spending Christmas together?”
I blink. “I haven’t thought about it.”
“It’s next week, Bree.”
I bolt upright. “Next week? That can’t be right.”
“December 25th. Comes every year, same date.”
My mind races. The manuscript is due January 2nd. The thirty days with Fletch also end right after New Year’s Day and I haven’t planned anything beyond that.
“I’ve been so focused on the book that I haven’t ...”
“And falling in love with your fake husband.”
“I’m not—” I start again, then cover my face with my hands. “I don’t know what I am.”
“For someone who writes about love for a living, you’re remarkably foggy about it in real life.”
I throw another pillow at her.
She catches it. “You should get him a Christmas present.”
The idea makes me nervous. “What would I even get him?”
“What does he like?”
I think back to our shopping trip for the toy drive, how his eyes had lingered on a wooden tabletop game that was part foosball and part air hockey. “I might have an idea,” I say slowly.
Three hours later,I’ve managed exactly two new pages on my manuscript and my mother has called twice about planning a wedding reception … “Even though you’ve already done the legal part without me, which I’m not upset about, sweetheart, really.” That’s a Monique Darling direct quote.
Hmm. I could write a pesky mom into this story.
Research on 1880s New York society takes me down a rabbit hole of Gilded Age fashion—Lorna is a fish out of water, having left the big city for the Wild West as a mail-order bride. I’m crafting dialogue between her and the brooding cowboy when Nina bursts into the house.
Fletch needs to find a new place for the key.
“We’re going to the Christmas Market,” she announces.
“I’m working.”
“You’ve been staring at the same paragraph for twenty minutes.”
“How do you know that?”
“It’s a hunch. But we both know I’m right.”
She’s not wrong.
“Get your coat.”
I don’t move, feeling the pressure to get down some words.
“I’ll get you some chocolate, Bree and this little guy gets a special treat too.” Nina clips the dog’s leash onto his collar.
