Page 4 of The Make-Believe Marriage

She takes a few steps back and nods. “That looks pretty straight to me. What do you think? Once we fill these spots with a few extra ornaments, get the lights up ...”

I stop listening and simply nod my agreement. I thought it looked fine twenty-five minutes ago.

“Alright, next step, the lights. This year will be easy. We won’t have to worry about tangled cords or burnout light bulbs,” she says, the serious look on her face making me smile.

I think back on the many times in my childhood when Dad had spent long hours and plenty of expletives muttered under his breath that had Mom pulling us out of the living room.

“Why don’t you go make us some hot chocolate and turn on some Christmas music while I get these strung up?” I ask, holding up the two boxes of clear LED lights we bought at the craft store on the way home. “Pantry—top shelf on the right, and the stereo is over there.”

“You’ve got it.” Krysten skips off to the kitchen, and before long, the microwave beeps and Christmas tunes play from her phone.

“Thanks.” I take the white mug from her. The hot chocolate isn’t bad, and she made it with milk instead of water, which gets her instant bonus points. I can overlook the fact that it’s still cold in spots. It takes a while to get used to a new kitchen and its appliances.

“Ready for the ornaments?” she asks as “Rocking Around the Christmas Tree”starts to play.

I watch her dance over to the bag that holds the rest of our purchases. She pulls ornaments out of it and hands a couple of them to me before continuing her dance, looking up at the tree, deciding on the perfect spot, before changing her mind after hanging it there.

I stand back and watch her.

Krysten looks over her shoulder, eyes still blazing with excitement. “What are you waiting for? Those ornaments aren’t going to hang themselves.”

I laugh, put down my lukewarm cocoa and hang the penguins dressed in Santa hats and scarfs. “How’s this?”

Krysten steps back and looks at the tree critically. She moves one of the penguins and returns to her spot. “That works. Let’s see what else we’ve got.”

I’m surprised how much I’m enjoying myself as we slowly, but surely fill the tree and somehow manage to fit everything she’s picked on it.

I reach for the bag the same moment she does to grab the last of the ornaments. Our fingers touch and it’s the most amazing feeling. An instant connection that has my heart rate speeding up. I haven’t had a reaction this strong in … well… ever. I pull back my hand, surprised there’s no visible evidence of sparks flying. “After you.”

Krysten grows quiet, the rosy blush back in her cheeks. I watch her hang the last red glass globe before stepping back to inspect our work.

“Not bad,” she says after moving a few things around.

“I think it’s amazing.” And I’m not just talking about the tree.

“Hardly. I can’t believe I forgot the tree topper. I’ll go back first thing in the morning. What do you think? Star or angel?” she asks, turning and almost bumping into my chest.

My mind goes blank, and I realize I’m in trouble. Finding myself attracted to my make-believe wife was not part of the plan.

Chapter 3

Krysten

“You’re doing what?” Lilly asks when I head back the next day to help her clean out our place before we turn the key over to the landlord.

“I’m staying at his place, pretending to be his wife at some dinner party he’s hosting for his boss. He’s a busy guy. He needs a little help pulling it off, and it’s not like I have anything else to do now that I’m unemployed.” I sweep a huge pile of dust, hair, and crumbs into the pan. I have no idea where it’s coming from. Lilly and I are both neat people, and we’ve been sweeping this kitchen diligently every night we lived here. Or at least most nights.

“He knows you can’t cook, right?” Lilly points to the old electric stove that’s born witness to my failed attempts to prepare a meal that involved more than a plate and a knife.

“I agreed to host a dinner party and decorate his house.” I dump the dirt into the trash bag sitting in the center of the kitchen and turn to walk to the hallway.

“Please tell me you told Tom that you can’t cook.” Lilly stops me from leaving the kitchen.

“Okay.” I shrug, doing my best to brush off the one part of this arrangement that’s been eating a hole into my stomach.

“OMG! He has no idea, does he?” Lilly puts down the rag she’s been using to wipe out cabinets and turns to me, hands on her hips.

“Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out.”

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