Page 21 of Flown in for Christmas

“I’m fine, Mom,” I reply. “Just a few long nights is all.”

It’s the wrong thing to say because my father pins me with a look and a raised, weaponized fork in my direction followed by the spiel about how my health should be coming before anything—including DSG. He’s sure to throw one last comment in once my mother takes his plate and he stands with a grunt. “Don’t be putting work over your lovely wife, either,” he says witha firm hand on my shoulder. “She deserves the best. And your attention.”

Joy sits beside me, a steaming mug clasped between her hands. “He gives me plenty, Bruce. And if he doesn’t, I’ll let you know first.” She winks at him and he chuckles, excusing himself to lie down for a bit before today’s festivities.

When he’s gone, I turn to Mom. “You sure he’s feeling up for the park?” I can’t help but ask. His color may have improved, but he’s still going through treatment. I know it’s a drain on his system whether he likes to admit it or not.

“If he wants to go, let him go,” Natalie speaks up from the dinette table in the kitchen. “You only live once.”

I scowl at her choice of words.

“Your father’s been very good about telling me when something is too much for him,” Mom says, wiping the counter in front of her. “If he says he’s well enough to go, then we need to trust him. It’s a beautiful day. The sun may even do him some good.”

I huff. It’s also below freezing.

The kitchen empties while I eat. Joy helps clean before my mother excuses herself to check on Dad.

“What’s the plan for today?” Joy asks, retaking her spot next to me. She turns toward me, bringing a knee up to her chest. Big, hazel eyes watch me. She looks so…content.

“Why didn’t you wake me up?”

She bites the inside of her cheek. “You needed the rest.”

“How—”

“My dad says I’m good at reading people,” she says quietly, tapping her nail on the ceramic mug. “He said I would’ve made a good lawyer, but that advertising was a close second.” Full lashes lift in my direction.

My chest heats. Does she know? Have I been giving away some sort of cue the last day to what I’ve been thinking? How I’ve been giving in to this whole ‘fake’ fiancée thing a bit more than I should be?

“You’re, um, quite the bed hog, by the way,” she says, changing the subject with another sip from her mug.

I do recall waking up on her side of the bed this morning… I guess I should’ve left the few feet open between us last night. “Sorry about that. When I got out of the shower you were asleep before I could ask if you’d rather me sleep on the couch.”

“The loveseat by the window?” she asks, eyes wide. “Gosh, no. You would’ve been so uncomfortable.”

I chuckle at her horrified expression. “Were you, though?” I ask. “Uncomfortable, I mean.”

Her smile is slow. “You’re very warm when you sleep. And you’re a bit…grabby.”

“Grabby?”

She nods, laughing. “You kept pulling me against you, and when I’d try to get away—”

Oh, god.

“—you’d mumble in your sleep.” She’s beamingnow. “It was cute.”

“Cute?” I question, my face flaming hot. “You just said I assaulted you and talked about it. In what world is thatcute?” Joy giggles despite all of this. “I’ll take the couch tonight,” I say. “I’m sorry I was…grabby. Did you at least get some sleep yourself? We can skip today if you’re tired.”

“I slept great, actually,” she says with a smile. “And I’d like to know what we’re doing before you try to talk me out of it.”

I shake my head, grinning. “Every year, a few days before Christmas Eve, my family goes ice skating at the town park. We’ll get dinner in town and attend the Christmas Tree Lighting Ceremony followed by a stop at Annie’s for hot chocolate. Then we end the night with a walk-through of the holiday display of lights. There’s music and food. It’s usually a good time.”

Joy’s eyes are as wide as saucers. “Oh. My. God. Heck yes, we’re going!” she squeals, leaping from her stool only to freeze. “But I don’t have ice skates.”

“They have rentals.”

“I don’t knowhowto ice skate.”

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