Page 55 of Christmas Kisses

“No, Christian.”

My snapped reply displays too many emotions, but it can’t be helped. This is one thing I refuse to budge on. I’d rather tell him I know about his ruse than act like Christmas is a big deal.

He takes a moment to authenticate the sheer determination on my face before giving in. “All right. I’ll cancel the tree.” He shoves another forkful of beans into his mouth before talking around them. “But you’re going to need to suck it up when it comes to selecting a costume.”

When I stare at him, lost, he boinks my nose with the end of his plastic fork before he continues to explain and eat.

I wish I could join him, but even with my ex being Korean, I can’t handle the level of spice I requested the restauranter to put into our selected dishes.

They’re about to set Christian’s stomach on fire.

“When you were breaking intomyapartment”—he talks faster when I attempt to interrupt him—“the man accompanying you said the invite is for a Christmascostumeparty.” He guzzles down half a bottle of water without coming up for air. “Going to an event like that without a costume would be like not a single sophomore dressing up as a slutty cheerleader for Halloween.”

My mouth drops open. “I dressed up as a slutty cheerleader my sophomore year.”

He’s smarter than I wish to give him credit for. “I saidduringHalloween.” He swivels his tongue around his mouth before arrowing another forkful of his chosen dish toward his mouth. “Everyday wear doesn’t count.” He fans the collar of his plain white shirt that’s had my head in a tizzy as well as the dish he is consuming is about to do a number on his intestines. “Is it hot inhere? I get it’s Florida, but damn. I wasn’t expecting it to be so warm.”

He scans the dishes and then my clean fork.

Quicker than I can snap my fingers, suspicion hardens his features. “Why aren’t you eating?”

“Oh. Um. I ate earlier.”

“Then why did… you… order… so… much.” His words are separated by breathy exhales.

I can’t feel what he’s feeling, but I’m reasonably sure he is acting like a man getting stabbed in the rectum with a big-ass knife.

“Are you okay?” My voice is back to the disgustingly chipper one I was using earlier. It seems to come out when I’m struggling not to laugh. “You don’t look very good.”

“I’m fine…” Christian’s eyes bulge before he folds in two. “Sweet mother of God. What the fuck is that?”

“Maybe you have an intolerance to spices? I once had kimchi jjigae. Within minutes of eating it, I felt like my insides were on fire. Is that how you’re feeling?”

He nods before his hand shoots for another bottle of water.

“You should try yogurt or milk. Water will only double the scald incinerating your tastebuds.” I point to the fridge when his tongue sticks out as if my theory is proven accurate with only one swish of water. “There could be milk in there.It’s most likely out of date by half a decade, but you’re welcome to it.”

In his desperation, and since I am whispering, he either misses my last sentence or is willing to risk food poisoning to stop the burn melting his insides.

He snatches the milk jug out of the fridge and downs it so fast that several clumps of curdled milk slide down his throat before he remembers you’re not meant to chew liquids.

“Oh no,” I murmur again, faking innocence when he stares at me with spoiled milk spilling from his mouth and the glare of a murderer. “I forgot about the power outage last week. Is it bad?”

He grits his teeth, fighting like hell not to yell the words I see in his eyes. “You could say that.” Again, his eyes bulge before a noise I’ve never heard before gurgles through his stomach. “No. This isnothappening.” His voice is on the verge of a sob—as fast and unhinged as the steps he uses to race back to the bathroom.

I feel bad this time when he pops several pronged Christmas lights during the short trek, though it has nothing on the disappointment that rains down on me when I remember my bedroom butts against the bathroom Christian will most likely hog the entire night, and I have only one toilet.

7

CHRISTIAN

“She knows.”

“Knows what?” My assistant gasps in shock when the truth smacks into her. “Then you need to leave.”

“No.”

“No?” Tahlia works the word through her head like it is the first time she’s heard it. “You can’t stay. If she knows why you are there, the assignment is over. That’s how it works. You’ll still get the apartment. It may just take a little longer.”

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