Page 91 of When the Fake Snow Falls

Elvis tosses his head back in laughter before his sparkling blue eyes settle on me. “Candace, how do you live with this man?”

“Um, excuse me?” Miles says as he pulls back to look at his boyfriend. “Living with me is agift.”

I wasn’t paying attention to the first half of their conversation, but even though I’m a little lost, I say, “He’s right. It is.”

Miles gives Elvis a pointed look as if to say,See?

I laugh and take another sip of my drink. “He does talk about bringing home a cat at least three times a week, but other than that, he’s great.”

Miles’s face turns serious. “It will happen.”

Elvis lets out a chuckle. “Not a cat person?” he asks me.

“Not a litter box person. I’ve tried telling him to just get a small dog instead, but he won’t have it.”

Miles looks at Elvis. “I need the fluff.”

“Dogs don’t have the fluff?” Elvis asks.

Miles shakes his head. “Not the same.” He shrugs. “Every time I see a kitten, I just want to put its whole face in my mouth.” He holds up an imaginary kitten. “I just can’t handle it,” he says through gritted teeth.

Laughter bubbles through his voice as Elvis says, “Aggressive.”

A knock sounds at the door, and I look at Miles. “Did you invite anyone else?”

“It’s probably that lady down the hall who brought us cookies last year.”

“Okay. I’ll get it.” Setting my glass down on the coffee table, I get to my feet and head toward the door. I hope it isn’t the same woman bringing us cookies again. Last year, they were terrible, and she insisted we try one in front of her. She was sweet, though. A lot sweeter than her cookies.

I pull open the front door, and my lips part, my mouth unsure how to form a single word. Chase stands with a bottle of wine in one hand as his free hand runs through his hair. Something about him looks . . . broken. Maybe it’s the way he’s holding his shoulders or the way he’s looking down. Maybe it’shis suit being less pressed than usual, or maybe I’m just looking for him to be broken. Maybe a small part of me wants to see in him what I feel in myself.

My assessment is fast, the mere seconds it takes for him to realize the door in front of him has gone from shut to open. Chase looks up, his beautiful brown eyes meeting mine. It’s too much. The way he looks at me is too much. Him being here is too much. I can’t do this. I can’t be around him right now. He opens his mouth to say something, but before he can get a word out, my panic takes over. I yelp, “Jack Frost!” and slam the door.

forty-four

When I turn around,Miles and Elvis are both looking at me over the back of the couch with wide eyes like I’m deranged. My heart can’t decide if it wants to drop out of my chest or stop altogether and let me die. He’s here. He’shere?

A thud followed by a light knock on the door makes me jump, and I imagine he has his forehead pressed against the barrier between us. “Candace.” Chase’s smooth, deep voice slips under and around the cracks until it has enveloped my entire body with a rush of warmth.

I stare at the door. I know I should open it. I have to, right? But still, I look between the door and Miles with frantic eyes. Finally, I let my stare settle on Miles long enough to ask, “What is he doing here?” in a sharp whisper.

He whisper-yells back. “I don’t know. Maybe open the door so you can ask him!”

I bite my thumb just as Chase lets out another, “Candace.” The strain in his voice has me melting and wanting to bolt at the same time.

“Quit being a baby, and open the fucking door!” Miles whispers a little louder.

I shoot him a glare before biting the inside of my cheek and turning to grip the door handle so tightly my sweaty palms slip against the metal. Looking up, I take a deep breath before slipping out into the hall.

Chase takes a few steps away from the door to give me space. We’re standing across from each other in the small hallway, my back against the door, and his against the opposite wall.

He runs a hand over his face. “Jesus Christ, Candace. You decide to say, ‘Jack Frost’now?”

“It was the first thing that came to mind,” I mutter as I look down the hall, desperate to avoid meeting his stare. “What are you doing here?” A young couple a few doors down lock up with a pie in hand like they’re about to head out for their holiday plans.

“Miles invited me last week. He didn’t tell you?”

I look at him. “Does it look like he told me?” Of all the things for Miles to do, this has annoyance prickling through me. “Wait. How would he even invite you? You haven’t seen him since we all went out.”

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