Page 92 of If This Was a Movie

THIRTY-SIX

JULES

“Oh, look at you three!” Mrs. Donovan shouts at us as we stand in the doorway of the Donovan house, my heart pounding, holding a plate of cookies I baked with Sophie this morning.

It’s the Saturday before Christmas, and we’re attending the annual Donovan family ugly sweater party. Sloane came over yesterday, dropping off three matching sweaters with Christmas cats on them, telling me if we didn’t show up in them, we’d stick out like a sore thumb. Nate told his sister to stop freaking me out, joking that he just convinced me to give him the time of day. He was mostly joking, but I felt the undercurrent of honesty there, like he is still afraid of scaring me off.

Since the snowstorm, things have been…easy.

I’m still scared shitless of the unknown, but I’m moving past it, forcing myself to look past my fears and jump in. Ever since the snowstorm, I’ve spent most of my day at the main house, shuffling over first thing in the morning to steal a few kisses and drink coffee with Nate, then get Sophie up and out the door.

I still sleep in my own bed at the cottage, nervous about what it might mean if we stop pretending I don’t have my own place and how that might impact Sophie, but that’s just about all I do there.

Being a part of his family has been…easy. Surprisingly easy.

But I like it a lot, this new little normal of ours.

And now, I’m being hugged and tugged from Donovan to Donovan as if I belong here, too.

“Our girl,” Sloane says with a smile.

“I’m so happy he hasn’t scared you off yet,” Sutton says, pulling me away from Nate. “Though the mere fact that you convinced him to wear this sweater is proof enough you’re strong enough to endure our brother,” she says, tugging at the sleeve of mine. When she brought them, Sloane told me there was a good chance I wouldn’t be able to convince her brother to wear it, and I agreed.

But as always, he was a team sport, and he smiled as he shrugged it off. It was obvious why, when Sophie came out, she had the biggest smile on her face when she saw her dad.

“Come on, we have to talk,” Sloane says, tugging my arm and looping hers through it.

“We do?”

“We need an update on how bad our brother is fucking this up,” Sutton says, looping hers through the other. “Before everyone gets here.”

“I, uh,” I start, looking over my shoulder at Nate to save me, but he just smiles.

“Be gentle with her. Don’t scare her off. I like this one,” he says with a laugh. And then he winks at me, his sisters carting me off to another room.

Even though it’s strange and different since I’ve never really confided in anyone but Ava and Harper, I filled them in on the last week or so, keeping out the gory details. It feels like what I always thought having sisters would be like, and I’m reminded of just another thing I would have missed out on if I let my fear win.

Being brave is turning out to be so fucking worth it.

Two hours later, I’m standing in the sunroom of the Donovans’ house, watching Nate, Sophie, and a bunch of the kids who came to the party have a snowball fight. I grimace as I watch Sophie and an older boy tackle Nate to the ground, his hands going up in surrender as he laughs.

He’s good with the kids, deciding when a little boy almost knocked over a vase after all of the kids were experiencing a bit of a sugar high that they needed to expend some energy, telling them to get on their jackets and head outside for a snowman-making competition.

It quickly devolved into chaos and, obviously, a snowball fight, and it’s been entertaining to watch. He leans down, propping Sophie on one hip and his cousin’s two-year-old toddler on the other. My heart flips at the sight, thinking of Nate holding Sophie and a kid we made together.Slow down, Jules. We just got past admitting you love the guy.

“You’re Julianne Everett, right? You own First Position?” a man with a plate piled high with cookies asks, ripping me from my daydream.

“Uh, yes! I am.”

“Hank,” he says, putting a hand out. “Approvals for the town.” Ah, so he’s the one holding my place hostage.

“Nice to meet you,” I say, taking the hand and shaking it.

“How’s the place?

“Oh, you know, still waiting for the final improvements, but I’m excited to get back in.”

His brow fires up, and his neck goes back. “Improvements? Is Donovan doing more to it? I don’t think that came across my desk.”

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