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At the coffee pot, she stared down at her hands, which had started trembling. Actually trembling. As if the random, ridiculous idea of being Jonathan’s girlfriend had triggered her fight-or-flight response.

“Hey.” Phoebe felt the pressure of Jonathan’s touch on her lower back. She reached for the coffee pot to hide the fact that she was being a complete weirdo, staring at her shaking hands.

“Need a refill, too?” she asked nonchalantly, without glancing back at him.

“Sure.” He paused. “I just wondered if you were feeling…”

Phoebe slowly filled her own mug with steaming coffee, then set it on the counter and turned around. She looked into Jonathan’s eyes, waiting for him to finish the thought.

Okay? No, not really. I’m not okay. Confused, yes. Freaking out, maybe. Okay? No.

“Awkward,” Jonathan finished.

“Awkward?”

“I know if you had planned on being here, you would have brought a gift for everyone, even the dog.”

“Very true.” Phoebe sighed, grateful to latch on to the topic. “I do feel bad. Do you think your mom thinks I’m rude?”

“Of course not!” Jonathan gripped her arms above the elbows, as if to convince her. “Remember, she begged you to stay last night. She knows you weren’t expecting to stay for gifts. And plus, she knows you’re not—”

Phoebe swallowed. “Not what?”

“I mean, that you don’t celebrate Christmas.”

Phoebe wanted to ask if that bothered her, but why would Sharon care that Jonathan’s old college friend was Jewish? And even if Phoebe were Jonathan’s girlfriend, she had no reason to think Sharon would care. She was being ridiculous.

“Right, but I would still get gifts for everyone. Actually, you know what, I’m going to spend all day tomorrow shopping, and then I’ll come back here and—”

“Phoebe, stop.” Jonathan squeezed her arms gently. She relaxed. This had the effect of her body sagging closer to his. Barely an inch separated their torsos. “No one expects you to do that. Okay?”

Phoebe nodded. She felt, looking into Jonathan’s brown eyes, her heart slowing with each calming breath, that she would like to stay here for a long time. That she would, in fact, like to melt into him and hug him for as long as he’d let her.

“Is that the only thing that’s bothering you?”

“Yes.” Phoebe hesitated. “No.”

“What is it?” Jonathan moved his hands up her arms. Despite the fabric separating his palms from her skin, it gave her goose bumps. He tilted his head, his eyes scanning her face intently. There was a slight frown on his full lips. Phoebe had an urge to press a finger against it, to make him smile. If she moved an inch closer, if she let her hands reach for his waist—Phoebe couldn’t be entirely sure, but his body language was telling her that this was her chance.

Chance? Chance for what, exactly? What are we doing here? Phoebe exhaled, wishing she could kick this shrill voice out of her head. But she was always there. She was Phoebe’s hyperproductive, overachiever side, and she kept Phoebe afloat. Without her head, Phoebe had no idea where her heart would take her.

She stepped back. “I’m actually really itching to get back to work.”

“Work?” Jonathan looked confused. His hands were frozen in midair where a moment ago they’d been holding on to Phoebe’s arms.

“Our business plan. We want to finish it by New Year’s, right? We have a ton left to do.”

“Yeah.” Jonathan dropped his hands and shook his head slightly. “It’s Christmas, though.”

“When will you be free to work on it?”

“Uh—” Jonathan looked back toward the living room, where his family’s voices overlapped with one another. “I’m not sure. Maybe tomorrow?”

Phoebe nodded. The trembling she’d felt only minutes ago had been replaced by something dark and roiling. It was her anxiety, telling her to get to work.

“Okay, well, I’m going to head back to Arden’s and work for the rest of the day. I have to feed her cat, anyway. Text me tomorrow?”

Jonathan gave her a tight-lipped smile. “Sure.”