Page 65 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

I force myself to keep frosting, to focus on the mindless activity. Anything to avoid looking at him.

“That sounds... tough.”

There’s no pity in his voice—just understanding. And that’s way worse. Pity I can handle. Sympathy I can shut down. But genuine concern? That threatens to split me wide open.

“It’s not a big deal. I had the Cherish Channel.” A real smile tugs at my lips, surprising me. “Every December, I’d curlup on the couch with store-bought sugar cookies and watch their holiday marathon. Twenty-four hours of perfect families, magical moments, and guaranteed happy endings.”

“And now you create that magic for others.” It’s not a question.

How does he do that? How does he cut straight through my bullshit to the truth I’ve buried under years of careful control?

“Someone’s gotta do it,” I say, shrugging casually. “And I’m pretty good at making people believe in the fantasy, even if it’s just for ninety minutes.”

“Is that all it is to you? A fantasy?”

He moves closer, his arm brushing mine, and electricity shoots through my body. The air between us feels heavy with everything I’m terrified to want.

I open my mouth to respond, when—

DING!

Our phones chime simultaneously, and I’ve never been more grateful for an interruption.

“Looks like we hit our daily subscriber goal,” I say, checking the app.

“Chase, babe! I’m gonna need more excitement than that. We crossed five hundred thousand. We’re halfway there! Woo!”

Ethan pulls me in tight, peppering my face with fast kisses that make me laugh. Then he stops, a playful smile on his face. “You know what that means? Time to get wet again.”

***

The sky’s dumping buckets.Gusts of wind slap us with misty high-fives. The ground beneath us? It’s a soggy, squishy mess. We’re huddled under the house stilts, our own little hideout in this crapstorm.Not my idea of fun.

“How aboutyoudance in the rain?” I say. “And I’ll film it.”

Ethan grins, already pulling out his phone. “You’re not afraid of a little water, are you?”

“Ethan, no, wait, let’s talk about this.”

I try to grab the phone from him, but it’s too late. He’s already hit theGo Livebutton.

“In Florida, it doesn’t snow for Christmas, but we have something better. We call it the Holiday Downpour,” Ethan declares with a grin. “Let’s all dance like our hearts are open and anything is possible.”

With that, he breaks into a cheesy rendition of “We Wish You a Merry Christmas,” running into the monsoon as he livestreams.

“You look ridiculous!” I yell after him, trying not to laugh.

He rushes to me, takes my hand, and tugs me into the spray. A surprised squeal escapes me as the cold water hits. Ethan laughs, continuing to sing, and despite my reservations, I end up singing along.

“Look, she does know the words!” Ethan crows triumphantly.

Now we’re both dancing like idiots in the water. I can’t stop smiling.

Me. Him. Us.

The moment is absurd. I embrace it.

I belt out the lyrics obnoxiously, even louder than Ethan. Then I twirl, letting the rain kiss my cheeks, and something magical happens. A weight lifts from my shoulders and a deep tension within me releases. I’m somehow being washed clean by the Florida showers.

---