Snowed In (Fitzpatrick Christmas, #2)

by Catherine Walsh

Everyone else seemed to know their place in the world but me. Like they’d all been let in on some big secret. And no matter how many things I did right, everything always felt wrong.

“Family can be hard.” “Yeah.” A beat of silence. “Not as hard as my thing, though.” “No.” I fight back a smile. “Runaway bride definitely wins.”

“You’re doing great,” he whispers, and that’s when I come to understand that my new fake boyfriend is a big old liar.

Christian’s whole body goes still as he takes me in, his gaze dropping to my heels and back up again, lingering on the bodice. I hold my breath, anticipation thrumming through me as his face flickers with something unreadable, an emotion gone too quick for me to catch. And then he smiles. It’s a… nice smile. A normal smile. A normal, friendly, pleasant smile, and one that I’m immediately disappointed by.

And just for a moment, just for one fairy-tale second, I wish we had. I wish this was real. All of it. As if feeling the weight of my attention, his gaze snaps back to me, and my heart skips a beat, launching into something new. Something sweet and delicate that I’ve never felt before.

but every time I look at her, I have to keep reminding myself that this isn’t real.

Not my girlfriend, I remind myself. Not my place. Not real. But I wasn’t lying to her before. As I follow her across the room to her mother, I realize I’m getting so good at pretending that I’m starting to fool myself.

I take a deep breath, but that’s a mistake because my head fills with the woody, spicy smell of him, and I swear I can feel it, whatever the new thing is between us. Feel it like it’s a tangible thing.

Ever since I bumped into her, she’s had a habit of making me feel things I didn’t normally. The only thing that irks me more is that I don’t seem to have the same effect on her.

I’ve never been with a guy who had washboard abs. Washboard abs belong in action movies or Instagram ads for protein shakes. Not on real people.

“This doesn’t feel like pretend,” she says quietly. “Do you want it to be?” She shakes her head,

“I think he saw through me. I think he knew I was unhappy but pretending I wasn’t, and that’s what disappointed him. That’s why the harder I tried, the worse it got between us.”

“I already learned to dance,” I tell him. “So think of something else. I’d think quick, though. The day after Christmas doesn’t have the same ring to it.”

And I’ve been trying to figure out when it stopped being pretend, but I can’t put my finger on it. I think because a part of me has wanted this from the moment I bumped into you. It was like I couldn’t leave you alone even then.

“I’ve been searching for something my whole life, and nothing’s ever clicked. And I think it’s because I was looking for you.”

I want to spend next Christmas with you, Megan. And every day in between. I want to wake up knowing I’m going to see you. I want to know everything there is to know about you and I want to start right now.”

“There isn’t anyone else in this world who could convince me into a fake relationship,” I tell him. “And no one else who could turn it into a real one.”