Page 20 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

“That’s why you love me, sweetheart,” I say, blowing her a kiss.

We roll down the sun-kissed stretch of road, the Sunshine State showing off her best. I’m grinning ear to ear, but her face suggests she’s considering jumping out of the moving car. There’s lush greenery everywhere and critters that most people only meet on their TV screens.

A group of herons wade through the shallow water, and I gesture out the window. “Check that out. Pretty amazing, right?”

Chase barely glances up from her phone, her brow furrowed in concentration. “Mmhmm,” she mumbles, unimpressed.

“Picture this:Christmas in the Keys—a Cherish Channel original. Sun, sand, and sizzling vacation romance. It’d be unforgettable, don’t you think?”

She shakes her head. “No snow, no Christmas movie. That’s not my rule—that comes straight from the Network. Now shut up. I’m trying to work.”

And she’s back to her phone, frowning at the screen. “God, the reception out here is awful.”

I reach over and gently lower her phone. “Hey, Workaholic. You do realize you’re missing out on a live-action National Geographic special? Actual living creatures surround us on all sides. Do you really want to ignore this natural wonder to check emails?”

Her eyebrows raise, and she glares as if I’ve suggested we strip naked and wrestle gators, but then her face softens. “Fine,” she says, slumping back in her seat. “So, tell me about this redneck Christmas of yours. Does Santa bring moonshine instead of milk and cookies?”

“Fair warning, you’re about to witness the Barrett Family Christmas Extravaganza. It’s like a Vegas show meets the North Pole. And you? Well, let’s just say you might want to tap into some of my holiday spirit. You’re gonna need it.”

Because her dark, brooding cloud of holiday loathing won’t cut it when we get there. My family? They make the Griswolds look like amateurs in the holiday cheer department.

“My mom’s gonna want to know all about you. So, tell me some stuff.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno. Your childhood, your parents?”

“Nope, I don’t discuss that.” Her tone leaves no room for argument.

“My mom is going to ask.”

“Then you’ll need to tell her that it’s personal.”

“So, what am I allowed to tell her? Give me something here, Ice Queen.”

Chase sighs, acting as if I’ve asked her to donate both kidneys and maybe a lung. “Tell her I’m from Evanston, Illinois. I’ve always wanted to direct. I went to USC to get my filmmaking degree. My job is my whole fucking life.”

“Well, that’s depressing,” I say before I can stop myself. “Isn’t Northwestern a film school around there? Why didn’t you go to that university? Too many corn fields?”

“Because I needed to get as far away from that hellhole as possible.”

There’s definitely more to that story. I’m about to ask my next question when her phone chirps.

“Network update,” she mutters, scowling at the screen. “They’ve created a real-time subscriber counter app. We’ve pulled in 10,000 new paid subs for the Cherish Channel so far.”

“That’s awesome!” I say, feeling a surge of excitement.

“That’s it?! You’ve got over a million social media followers. Where the hell are they, and why aren’t they coming over? Ten thousand is not gonna cut it. This plan is doomed.”

“You’re looking at this all wrong. Most of my followers are already subscribed. You’re welcome, by the way! That means we gotta reach new people—lots of them, since you’ve set the bar sky-high. It’s doable, but you have to believe. That’s how Christmas magic works.”

Now I’m being looked at like I’ve sprouted antlers. “Magic? What are you, five?”

“What made our first movie blow up?” I ask. “You didn’t see it coming. Neither did I.”

“It was my writing and my directing.”

“Nah, it wasn’t even my rock-hard abs or my irresistible charm.” I shake my head, grinning. “It was Christmas magic. And for those who believe, it comes every year.”

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