“You said she’s trying to teach us something…what if it’s that we’re meant to be together? We did wake up married after all.”
“She’s a witch, not a matchmaker. And if she is a matchmaker, it appears she’s not a very good one.”
Bringing his mouth to my ear, his warm breath tickles the exposed skin of my neck and causes goosebumps to erupt across my arms. Dropping his voice to a whisper, he says, “I’d have to disagree. I think we could be really good together.”
“You do?” My voice shakes, and I swallow hard. My knees threaten to buckle underneath me as I try my best not to give away the effect he has on me, but it’s no use.
A hum escapes from his lips. “We were pretty good together last night.”
The door clicks open, and my eyes follow the sound to find that his hand is no longer on the frame, but on the door knob.
“After you, Wifey” he says, chuckling.
“Ugh, can you try not to be so annoying.” Letting out a frustrated breath, I push him away from me. If I’m not already dead, then this man will surely be the death of me.
Chapter 16: The Nuttalls
Everett
Claire pushes me backward, scrunching her nose and scowling, which I have to admit is pretty cute. Pulling one half of the French doors open, I watch as she walks through it.
The Victorian-style house is pale pink with white and teal trim. It looks like a gingerbread house or something out of a storybook. It doesn’t look real. It’s everything I hate about this time of year—over the top and cliché.
Lights are strung around the banisters and outline the roof. Evergreen wreaths with pink velvet ribbons adorn every window. A life-sized pastel nutcracker stands guard by the door.
The doormat catches my eye, and I chuckle as I read the words printed on it. Under a row of gingerbread houses are the wordsThe Nuttallsin script.
Glancing down at the gold ring circling my finger, I spin it. I don’t have any idea why we’re here, but I can’t shake the thought that maybe this Stella woman is trying to push us together and that maybe that’s the key to getting home.
The pink-haired reporter was interested in my shoulder and when I planned on settling down. Could she have taken my abrupt exit from the media room as an invitation to meddle in my personal life? Is that what this is about? Or, maybe the feeling I have is just my deepest desires bubbling to the surface.
“Did you hear me?” she asks.
“Oh…um, no…sorry. I got distracted by the doormat.” Her eyes find our name, and she lets out an annoyed breath.
“Does that mean my name is Claire Nuttall now?”
“What, you don’t like the sound of that?”
She shakes her head in disbelief and buttons her coat to keep out the cold. “I was saying we should probably exchange phone numbers since you are so insistent on us sticking together.”
“Okay, what’s yours?” I pull out my cell phone and begin to type in her phone number as she says it out loud. Grinning, I turn the screen in her direction. “Looks like you’re already in here,Sugar.”
“How do I know that’s me?” she questions, placing a hand on her hip. “For all I know, you call everyone that silly nickname.”
I don’t. She’s the only woman I’ve ever called that nickname. Or any nickname for that matter.
Flipping the phone, I tap the contact that reads “Sugar” with my thumb, and her phone begins to ring.
“Who’s calling you?” I smirk. She flips the phone in my direction, and another wedding photo flashes on her screen along with the name Ev. “Would you look at that? Looks like we do have each other’s numbers.”
Rolling her eyes, she ignores the call and moves past me down the small set of stairs. The large yard is covered in an untouched blanket of snow. We walk across it towards a sidewalk, leaving a trail of footprints behind us. The street is lined with houses similar to ours. Each one is a different color. The light posts are decorated for the upcoming holiday. From my vantage point, I can see that we’re close to what appears to be some sort of town square.
“Want to walk?” I ask, nodding down the street.
“I don’t see a car,” she says. “So, I guess it’s our only choice.”
We move down the sidewalk, my steps falling into a steady rhythm with hers.
