Thwick, and more tinsel explodes everywhere, piled high on Felix’s head like a snowdrift.
“Sorry,” Hall says hastily, lowering his weapon. “I was expecting you to argue.”
Felix shakes the silver out of his hair with a scowl, which transforms into a reluctant smile when he notices how hard Marilou’s laughing at him.
“He’s certainly got my blessing,” Dad remarks to Grandpa, who nods thoughtfully, watching us.
As Hall meets my eyes, the world seems to tilt sideways, and I find myself tipping right into him. He catches me in his arms, faint surprise etched on his face, eyes curious.
Grandma raises her glass in a toast. “To Bettie and Hall! Long may they reign!”
I don’t know what prompts me to do it—maybe it’s because I’ve suddenly found my face so close to his, or maybe it’s because my relatives are raising their glasses to us one by one and it feelsperfectly natural to do so—but I cup the back of Hall’s neck and shock him with a kiss on his smiling mouth.
He responds with a jolt of electricity, smile disappearing, arms automatically tightening around me. Warmth shoots through my veins, prickling the tips of my fingers, bright pops of color speckling my vision. The press of his lips is gentle but firm until it isn’t: his fingers thread through my hair, bunching it for a moment in his fist, and the kiss turns bruising.
Before I can register the change, he releases me. He brushes a kiss to the back of my hand while holding my gaze, and somehow the action feels like dropping out of the sky, hundreds of feet from the earth.
Has anyone ever kissed my hand before? It strikes me now as the sweetest possible gesture.
Then he raises our joined hands over my head and twirls me in one fluid motion.
As I revolve, I notice how impossibly slowly Mom’s glass is moving as she lifts it in celebration of us; how Athena’s words, midspeech, are emerging low and stretched, taking an eternity to tumble out. A child’s laughter echoes from another room, sound visibly vibrating the airwaves. And from above, tinsel that landed on the ceiling fan earlier is drifting in slow motion, taking all the time in the world as it glitters past us like camera flashes.
I wonder if the slowing of time is intentional, or if he’s done it subconsciously.
After spinning me in a full circle, my lips still tingling from how unexpectedly—howfiercely—he reciprocated the kiss, the world catches up at rapid speed and no one is any the wiser.
“To Bettie and Hall,” he says quietly at my ear, one side of his mouth hooking back into a grin. The grin is a secret wink, awefooled ’em, didn’t we. My heart drops, rattling in the pit of my stomach. Of course. It’s all part of the act. He’s gotten uncommonly good at playing the hero.
I try to match his grin, but, foolish as it is, I can’t help myself from thinking:I wish this could have been real.
*
Chapter Thirteen
FOR THE RESTof the day, all I can think about is that kiss. Hall doesn’t mention it or behave as though it meant anything, acting his usual self. Am I making a big deal out of nothing? The kiss was fairly chaste, after all. Or is he just playing this incredibly cool? That evening, I march downstairs with the goal of cornering him alone in the kitchen—if I hint around the subject in circles, perhaps I can guess his feelings without having to ask what they are outright. Maybe we’ll kiss some more.
But before I can pounce on him, I hear that somebody’s already beaten me to it.
“So, what would you say your favorite thing about my granddaughter is?”
I wince, backtracking behind the door.
“How do I choose when there are so many options? She smells justenchanting,” Hall informs my grandfather earnestly. “I like the way her hair swoops at the ends. You know? And when she’s telling you to do something you know is bad, she stares at you withthis nearly unbearable force, like you couldn’t look away even if the ground opened up beneath your feet, and I find myself feeling quite warm, like I’ve run all the way here from Florida.”
I bite my knuckles to keep a weird bubble of laughter from escaping.
“Tell me more about how you two met.”
There’s a strange note in Grandpa’s voice, which I wonder if Hall will detect; it sounds an awful lot like he knows something he shouldn’t and is toying with my fiancé.
“How we met,” Hall repeats. You do not have to know Hall at all to detect his sudden nerves. A stranger would spot it from across the street. I appreciate poor Hall’s dilemma here: he’s goodness and light, but lying is required in this situation. Lying to my nice, polite grandpa twice in one day. While my nice, polite grandpa stares him directly in the eyes. In the sanctity of a kitchen brimming with Christmas desserts.
“Yes, I’d love to hear the whole story,” Grandpa replies, and I’m very glad to be on this side of the door.
“Um. Well. We met, which was lovely. And we were both instantly attracted to each other. Physically and emotionally.”
“Don’t spare any details, son.”
