Page 21 of Their Christmas Miracle

Joshua

Would these fantasies never end? Would I, from this day forward, be cursed to witness these hedonistic plays in my head? Each starring me and Holly… and for some reason, a distorted version of my bedroom?

She turns around.

I don’t like the expression on her face. I’ve seen many tonight — surprise, caution, joy, irritation, playfulness — but none like this.

She looks… disappointed.

Wow, did the guy I paid to decorate this place do such a shit job?

I force my gaze past her, trying to scan my apartment with new eyes. It’s not that difficult — most of the time I’m here is spent sleeping — but I can’t seem to find what she finds so reprehensible—

“Oh my God,” she says, taking a step back. “I totally get it now.”

“I’m sorry?”

It’s that coffee table, isn’t it? All glass and steel. It looks so barren, now that I study it. The whole place, actually. I should have asked that guy to put in a rug or—

“You’re gay, aren’t you?”

“I’m sorry, what?” My briefcase thumps to the floor. I lift a hand to my breast, suddenly realize that might look too effeminate, and bunch it into a fist at my side instead.

“You’re gay.” She nods, crossing her arms over her chest as she lets out a soft laugh. “I can’t believe I didn’t see it.”

“I’m… I’m not gay,” I manage through a throat that feels as if it’s being strangled.

“Yeah? So you just do your hair like that because you think it looks good?” She waves a hand in the direction of my head.

I reach up, running self-conscious fingers over my slicked back hair. I’d seen this style on one of the execs a year or two ago. Thought it looked professional. Did it really—

“And this place? You didn’t spend twenty-bazillion hours on Pinterest looking up decor tips?”

She spins around, waving that same hand over my place as if she’s sprinkling fairy dust over everything.

Which, apparently, it didn’t need.

My chest tightens. I make a noise — something between a growl and a groan — as I try and force words of protest from my mouth.

But she’s just standing there, shaking her head at my things, laughing softly to herself. “I should’ve known.”

Calm down, Josh. Damn it, Joshua! Joshua. Calm down.

I manage a breath, but it’s anything but calm. It’s almost a snort.

How dare she come into my home — not because I invited her here, but because she blackmailed her way in — and then stand there accusing me of something that—

I’m walking forward, stomping really, before I even realize I’ve moved.

Holly, perhaps sensing a change in the atmosphere, turns around. Her dark eyes go wide, her lips parting, perhaps in a scream, perhaps in a shout.

I wouldn’t know which because, right then, I kiss her.

And I kiss her damn hard.

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