Page 29 of If This Was a Movie

“It’s really not necessary,” he says. “If you can’t watch her or get her off the bus one day, I can find something that works.”

“I’d be much more comfortable with this arrangement if it was actually mutually beneficial,” I say under my breath, flipping pages to find December. In my peripheral, Nate stands and walks closer, bending to grab something.

“If you’re agreeing to help me with the mess I’ve gotten into with Sophie, we’re more than even, trust me,” he says, the words trailing off.

“Well, it turns out I think I can—” I start, lifting my head to look at Nate, who has gone quiet and is staring at something in his hands. “What’s that?” I ask, but panic fills me because I know what he’s holding. It’s worn and weathered, but it’s been in my bag for almost a year, despite changing bags relatively often.

“You kept this?” he asks. “This was from that night.”

I bite my lip and lie. “How do you know I didn’t go back and get a new one? I could be a smoker.” He gives me a look, and I shut my mouth.

“Why?” he asks, voice quiet.

“Why am I a smoker?” Once again, he glares at me and I sigh. “I don’t know,” I say. “It was a reminder of sorts, maybe. It made me…happy. Reminded me of something special.”

“I thought I was a bad reminder. Put you off dating, didn’t I?”

“I mean yeah. But for a moment…” I let it hang there, not wanting to finish my sentence. I’m tired, and the adrenalinefrom my long, long day is wearing off, meaning nothing good can come from the rest of the day.

“For a moment, it felt magical,” he says, stepping closer. I watch his hand slip into his pocket, taking the matchbook, and I fight the all-consuming urge to ask for it back.

That would give away way too much.

“What happens after?” I ask.

“After?”

“After the holidays, after the new year, after my place is all done, and I can move back.” A small smile tips his lips, and I realize I just admitted that I was thinking about taking his offer. “I mean, if I stay here and we pretend, what will happen then? What will you tell Sophie? She’s expecting some Christmas miracle, but while I appreciate the offer to help me out, I’m not marrying you just to make some Christmas magic for your kid.”

He smiles wider and then shrugs, that calculating smile filling his eyes now.

“Eh, I’m sure she’ll have already forgotten about her wish by then; it’s fine. Kids are resilient.” I give him a disbelieving look, but he continues. “And at Christmas, she’ll get spoiled to death by eighteen million toys and new clothes and who knows what else. She’s the only grandchild and has three aunts to spoil her. When you eventually head home, she won’t even notice.”

When I get a pang of sadness at how quickly it seems I’ll be brushed out of their lives once more, I realize I should say no.

I should say I can’t do this, spend one night here, and find new plans tomorrow. Call a million contractors all over the state and pay hand over fist to get my place done as soon as possible.

But now that I know Nate wasn’t actually a piece of shit all along, a part of me is desperate to get to know him again, to see if my gut was right or if I was delusional. And despite myself, I really, really want to give Sophie a spark of Christmas magic so one day, when she looks back, she can remember that her fatherdid absolutely anything and everything to get her her every single wish.

A little girl deserves that, to believe in magic and true love and wishes coming true.

“Fine,” I say despite my best interests. “I’m in. But only until my place is done and only if I can pay you for the work and materials.” He makes a face, but I keep speaking. “I’m serious. I’m proud of First Position, and I’ve done it all by myself. I don’t need some random guy coming in and taking that away.”

He takes another moment, clearly contemplating if that’s my breaking point, but when he sees I’m not bending, he nods.

“And this? Us? It stays platonic. I’m not in the market for a real relationship,” I say.

“Deal,” he says almost too quickly, putting a hand out. I stare at that hand as his smile widens. “Gotta shake on it, dollface,” he says, and I glare. “You gotta admit, you look just like her.” His smile widens, and I shake my head, unable to fight the small smile. “Come on. Let’s make a deal, Jules.”

I spend a moment contemplating all of the ways this could go wrong before I sigh and put my hand in his. “Deal,” I whisper as his hand closes around mine.

He uses the leverage to pull me in close, forcing my heart to pound.

“Deal.” He holds me there for what feels like a lifetime, neither of us moving before he speaks. “And Jules? There hasn’t been a single day in three hundred and thirty-two days when I haven’t thought of you. What you look like, how you made me feel, how you taste. I won’t fuck this up this time.” He says it with such conviction and determination that I can’t breathe, despite his breaths grazing against my lips.

Finally, he steps back, leaving me unsteady on my feet.

“See you tomorrow, Jules,” he says, walking away.

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