Page 41 of Faking It with My Bossy Ex

“Really?” I deadpan.

“Last Christmas?” I mutter, my stomach twisting. Of all the songs, she picked this one. She’s sending a message, loud and clear. And it stings, because if I could go back, I’d rewrite everything I did that year.

“Yes. Really. It’s fitting, if you ask me.” Her eyes dart between me and Clara, who is standing across the room, a couple of people around her, giving interviews and commentary.

I shake my head as the song starts and she jumps in with the first line.

“Last Christmas, I gave you my heart …”

My heart sinks, but I put on my best smile. I convinced Amy to try and win this Christmas competition, so I’m not backing out now. She’s singing very well, and even with this awful song, maybe we could have a chance at first or second place.

“I thought you were someone to rely on.” Her voice is steady, but her gaze isn’t. It lands on me, steady and accusing, like a knife straight through. I’d give anything to undo that hurt, to go back and be the man she needed.

The song draws to an end, and my stomach falls. We’re going to walk off this stage and go right back to being ice cold.

She finishes her line, a sweet smile on her face, sending a rush of electricity through me. The music stops and everyone claps. We seem to be one of the favorites so far. I take her hand and pull her close as we leave the stage. She lets me, but it’s like there’s a wall standing between us I can’t remove. As soon as we’re off the stage, she ducks out from under my arm.

“Can we talk?” I don’t let go of her hand.

“Look, Mrs. Parker is coming.” She ignores my question, tossing her hair over her shoulder and pointing to Mrs. Parker, who is indeed walking toward us.

“Good work, both of you,” Mrs. Parker beams. If she notices the good bit of distance between us or the brittle expression on Amy’s face, she doesn’t say anything.

“There’s a good chance you’ll win. You know, you’re soaring through the competition so far.”

“Thank you. I couldn’t do it without Dylan.” Amy glances up at me, blinking her eyes sweetly. It’s for show. That’s easy enough to see, but two can play that game. I reach out and take her hand in mine, spinning her toward me until she’s wrapped in my arms.

“You’re too sweet, Ames.” I kiss the top of her head, her back against my chest. Her breath come out in furious little puffs.

“I can tell the two of you are head over heels in love.” Mrs. Parker’s eyes twinkle. “I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure everyone is eager to hear the results of the competition.” She hurries off into the crowd. Amy starts to pull away, but I keep her where she is, swaying to the music that’s now taken over the Karaoke attempts.

“Dylan …” her voice is tense with warning.

“Amy,” I reply, a smile on my face.

“Clara’s watching. If you’re using me to make her jealous …” Her tone falters for a moment, and I turn her around, still keeping her close, one of my hands resting on her waist and the other holding her hand.

“Believe me, I am not trying to make Clara jealous. I don’t care what Clara thinks.”

She smells like a cinnamon roll, and it’s doing something to my head. I wish we were dancing because we wanted to be. She’s still tense in my arms, her eyes flickering with uncertainty.

“I’m sorry …” she shakes her head and breaks free of my grasp. “I can’t do this.”

She weaves through the other couples, spectators, and all the other guests in the inn until she gets to the front door and slips outside. I’m right behind her.

I’m not letting her run away this time.

Chapter 19

Amy

He’s following me. Of course he is.

I don’t slow down. I don't want him to see the tears in my eyes or how vulnerable I am right now.

Oh, good grief, Dylan. He just had to get under my skin and worm his way back into my heart.

Clara coming back is like a fire iron, ripping open old wounds, reminding me how much it hurt the first time, but it’s not all bad. Remembering why it ended helps me keep in mind why it can’t happen again.

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