Better Not Pout (Mistletoe Falls)

by Maren Moore

“Fuck no, Sugar. I’m staring at you because you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. Never think that you ever have to hide yourself from me, Rosalie. I love every goddamn inch of you. Hell, I’m about to come in my fucking pants like a teenager just from eating your sweet little pussy.”

Those who have never struggled with their weight or body image can’t fully understand what it’s like to hate the person staring back at you. To pick apart every single part of you until there’s nothing left but a shell.

“They’re tempting, but they’re nothing compared to how tempted I am by you. I’m beginning to realize that my sweet tooth is for you, Rosalie Sullivan.”

“I see. You can have my leftovers, man. She was never anything memorable. Trust me.”

“You know what? Screw you, Bradley. I don’t give a shit what you have to say about me, and the fact that you have something hateful to say after I did a favor for you, one that you did not deserve, because your ego is bruised speaks volumes.”

“It took me far too long to realize that you didn’t deserve me then, and you’d sure as fuck never deserve me now. So do us both a favor, forget I ever existed, and if you see me on Main Street, keep walking. I have nothing to say to you ever again. Oh, and your dick is small. Now that I’ve had him”—she gestures to me, and a wave of pride flares beneath my chest—“I know exactly what I was missing. Honestly, I feel sorry for you. Have a good life in your fake, miserable marriage, and I suggest you learn where the clit is.”

“You weigh nothing, Sugar. I’m a man whose entire career has been about taking hits from three-hundred-pound men and returning those hits. I could bench-press you. I’m a fucking man, Rosalie. One who loves every goddamn inch of this body. One who loves your curves and softness. One who loses his goddamn mind with the need to touch you. I’m not a boy who can’t handle the woman that you are. Do you hear me?”

“Always. It’s not just about making candy for me. It never has been. It’s about creating a legacy. A place in Mistletoe Falls where tradition never stops. Where people will always feel nostalgic as they step through the doors. The same way that I felt growing up. Sweet Sullivan’s is as much a part of me as I am a part of it, and I just want to keep that alive for as long as I can.”

“The best decision I ever made was coming here. You’re part of that, Rosalie. I know that…” He trails off, his gaze moving down to the letter before lifting back to mine. “I know that we said things would end after Christmas. I know it was supposed to be fake and temporary, but the thing is I don’t want it to be. I knew that before I read your letter, but even more so now. I want this between us to be real. Whatever you want it to be, whatever label, I just don’t want it to end.”

“The whole time I thought I was searching for a place to call home, when all along, I was searching for you, Rosalie.”

don’t know the future or what will happen along the way, but I do know that I want Wells McCoy. He’s the man who made me believe that magic does exist. And maybe it’s been here all along.

“You are the love of my life and the only woman that I want to spend the rest of it with. The only woman who I want to share an old farmhouse with, fill it with babies that I hope will look just like you. I love you, Rosalie. So much. I want you to be my wife, to have the privilege of loving you forever. Will you do me the honor of marrying me?”

Turns out… fake holi-dating isn’t just for the Hallmark movies. It’s also for hot bar owners in small towns who fall in love with the candy maker next door. And I’m never, ever giving him up.