Page 86 of It's Not All Fake

He looks at me, as if in momentary disbelief. His shirt, soaked, clings to his torso. I hold his steady gaze, assuring him wordlessly that my heart is his.

Then, Liam closes the distance between us and kisses me. His warmth cuts through the chilly rain, enveloping me, and I feel dizzy with bliss. My instincts take over as I kiss him back with equal passion.

When he finally pauses, his face just inches from mine, he gazes at me through the veil of rain. “I love you, Chloe,” he murmurs, brushing the wet strands of hair from my face.

“I love you, too,” I respond with a smile, feeling the weight of our past lifting.

Liam's lips meet mine again, his fingers tangling in my wet hair.

Just then, a loud boom interrupts our moment, and we look up to see a vibrant display of red and white fireworks lighting up the sky.

“Fireworks too?” I laugh, a mix of surprise and delight as bursts of color light up the sky.

He holds me close, his gaze searching mine for approval. “Too much?” he asks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“No, it’s perfect,” I smile. “Though, they could lighten up on the rain a little,” I admit, squinting as the rain whips around us, driven by a shifting wind.

Liam chuckles and retrieves a small, black two-way radio from his back pocket. “Barry, it’s turning into a monsoon out here,” he says into the device.

“Copy, turning it down. You wanna kill it?” a gruff voice asks from the radio.

Liam looks at me, raising an eyebrow in question. I grab his hand holding the radio and press the button. “Just one more kissing-in-the-rain take, Barry.”

“Copy that,” the radio crackles in response.

Liam grins and tucks the radio back in his pocket. Reds, yellows, and blues wash over us as the sky booms.

I weave my fingers through his damp hair, pulling him closer. His lips on mine make everything feel right and it's undeniably real. We share a perfect kiss in the rain.

And it’s better than any Hollywood ending.

EPILOGUE

SIX MONTHS LATER

LIAM

I’m engrossed in a string of code on my computer, enjoying the quiet in my home office. It’s a welcome break from my mother’s stories about the men on her senior citizen cruise to the Caribbean. Mom has been healthy as a horse and taking full advantage, checking things off her list. After one too many eggnogs, her stories have become increasingly vivid, complete with too many details about bathing suit mishaps.

The office door squeaks open gently. I can't help but smile, knowing exactly who it is without needing to look.

"Mr. Wright, you're not working on Christmas Eve, are you?" her voice teases.

I swivel in my chair to face her, eager to take in her every move.

Chloe steps in with a playful grin. She's dressed in a black sweater, sleeves rolled up to her elbows, paired with a shiny emerald-green skirt adorned with a bow—she looks every bit the perfect present waiting to be unwrapped.

"Of course not," I respond with a grin.

“Oh, no?” she plays along, rounding my desk.

“I didn’t come back here to work. My plan was to lure you away from the crowd,” I say, giving her a sly look as she approaches. She’s wearing the diamond necklace I bought her months ago, and it’s a silent affirmation that everything has finally fallen back into place.

“Oh, you were trying to get me alone?” she asks with feigned innocence, though she can’t hide her smile. “Whatever for?”

She lets out a surprised shriek as I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her onto my lap. I silence her with a passionate kiss, feeling the warmth of her hand on my cheek as I run my fingers into her long chestnut hair.

She tastes sweet, like candy cane. I can’t get enough of her, but I reluctantly pull away to slow us down as the heat between us begins to rise.

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