Page 9 of The Make-Believe Marriage

Lydia looks at her husband, then at Krysten, and smiles. “Don’t worry about a thing, honey. This is a brilliant idea. I should have thought of it years ago.”

“Yes, you should. This is delicious, and you did a wonderful job serving it up,” Bob said, his tone as encouraging as his wife’s.

“Except for the duck. And for the record, that’s on me. It didn’t arrive like this.” Krysten motions to the bird in front of me.

“I happen to like dry meat.” Bob pops a bit of the meat into his mouth. And chews. And chews. And chews, before reaching for his wine.

“Right.” Krysten laughs and pulls her hand away from mine. I miss the connection and busy myself refilling glasses.

The rest of the evening goes well. We play the perfect married couple, at ease with each other. Except for the rare occasions we touch. A hand on the shoulder, fingers brushing against each other as we clear the dishes, sitting close to each other on the couch. It’s exciting and slightly awkward and unexpected.

“It’s getting late,” Lydia says after coffee and apple pie.

“Right, I’m sure these two lovebirds are ready for some alone time.” Bob winks at Krysten, and this time her cheeks grow that glowing pink I’ve seen before.

I clear my throat, and Lydia shakes her head. She gets up, and I help her into her coat.

“Thank you both for a lovely evening. We’ll have to return the favor soon,” she says, giving both of us a warm smile and a brief hug.

“Come to my office Monday morning,” Bob says, shrugging into his jacket. “I have some papers for you to sign.”

“Does that mean you got the promotion?” Krysten asks quietly after I shut the door behind the Martins.

“I think it does.” A huge grin spread across my face. I didn’t think we’d pull this off, but somehow, we did. “I couldn’t have done this without you.”

“Except for the part where I almost ruined it all with the duck and the instructions.” Krysten shakes her head and puts the cups and plates on a try to take them to the kitchen.

“And then you saved the day. I can’t thank you enough for what you did tonight. Leave this. I’ll take care of it.” I take the tray from her, and sparks fly again at the briefest touch of our fingers.

“No way. I’m too keyed up to head to bed. We’ll do it together. This part of kitchen work, I’m actually good at.”

We work as a team, loading the dishwasher and washing pots, pans, and finally the wine glasses.

The adrenaline of the evening finally wears off, and we’re both yawning as we make our way upstairs, turning off the various lights, including those on the Christmas tree.

“Thank you. I mean it,” I say when we stop in front of her door.

“You’re very welcome. And I mean that too.” Krysten doesn’t move, and neither do I. We’re rooted to the floor, lost in each other’s eyes.

Mine travel down to her rosy lips, my head lowering of its own volition. I catch myself at the last moment, realizing what I’m doing. I step back and take a deep breath. “Goodnight.”

Chapter 5

Krysten

Ibreathe a sigh of relief that he’s gone by the time I get up on Monday morning. After tiptoeing around each other all weekend, and two nights in a row, I finally slept long and deep. Not that our time together has been bad. We’ve had fun, watching Christmas movies, going for walks through downtown Wilmington, shopping at the local holiday fair. It’s been nice, relaxing, and restful, except for the lingering tension between us. The one that flared up to full force Friday night when Tom came this close to kissing me. And I can’t stop thinking about it.

When my phone rings, I’m thankful for the distraction. “Lilly, how are things back at home?”

“Strange and strained. Moving back home is very different from coming back for a visit.” Lilly doesn’t sound as annoyed as her words would indicate.

“I’m sure your Mom’s happy to have you home,” I say, sitting down at the kitchen table with my coffee.

“She is. When she’s not getting annoyed with me about leaving my stuff all over the place. You know how it is.”

I don’t, but I make an agreeable noise.

“How about you? How are things with our old neighbor, Tom? Still enjoying playing house?” she asks.

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