Page 102 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! She’s running.

The stage lights dim, and suddenly Chase’s face fills the giant screen. My breath catches in my throat. She’s so goddamn beautiful it hurts.

“Ethan Barrett. Where do I start?” Her voice is soft, almost shy. It’s a side of her I rarely see, and it makes my stomach clench.

“What the hell is this?” I mutter.

“She filmed this interview earlier today.” Taylor’s whisper hardly registers.

On screen, Chase continues, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. “He drives me absolutely crazy. He’s always cracking jokes at the most inappropriate times, and his ability to push me to do outrageous stunts is, well… I guess you’ve all seen, haven’t you?”

The audience bursts into laughter as clips from our past livestreams play. There we are kissing Brutus the alligator, braving that insane polar plunge, and our inflatable raft soaring through the air before crashing spectacularly into the water. I can’t help but grin.

But something’s off. This Chase… She’s different. It’s like seeing behind the curtain, the unedited director’s cut of the woman she keeps hidden. Has she been this good at acting the whole time?Is that why it’s so easy for her to walk away? Has everything been an act?

“Ethan has this… this infuriating ability to find joy in everything. He can make me laugh when all I want to do is scream or cry. He’s sunshine in my world that’s been serious for far too long.”

My smile fades. There’s a rawness in her voice that hits me deep. This isn’t the Chase I’m used to seeing.

“If I’m doubting myself, he’s the first one to remind me of what I’m capable of. He’s so encouraging.”

She pauses, her gaze drifting off-camera for a moment. I know that look. She’s searching for the right words, and suddenly I realize—this isn’t scripted. This is Chase, stripped bare.

She’s talking to me.

“He makes me brave,” Chase continues, her voice thick. “There’s this constant push to be better, not only behind the camera but within myself. My defenses, my masks—they all disappear when we’re together. Ethan accepts me. The real,messy, imperfect me.” She inhales shakily. “That’s why my heart belongs to him.”

Did she just say…?

“Okay, man, it’s almost time.” Mike’s voice permeates the fog in my brain. He’s holding out the ring holder like it might explode. “Go slow pulling the ring out of the case. The band is a little slippery since I just had it polished. Can’t be too careful when you’re broadcasting live.”

I nod, only half-hearing him. My eyes are glued to the screen, to Chase.

“He’s shown me a love I thought only lived in my imagination,” she says, eyes glistening. “I never expected to fall in love with Ethan, but it’s the most incredible Christmas gift I’ve ever been given.”

My vision blurs.Fuck, I’m crying.She actually loves me.

But she’s still leaving. Why the hell is she bolting if she loves me?

And then, like a wrecking ball to the chest, it hits me. She’s scared. Just like I am. Because what we have… It’s not some bullshit PR stunt. It’s raw and real, and it’s fucking terrifying.

The lights come up. The video’s over. My heart’s hammering, my palms slick with sweat.

What the fuck do I do?

I promised to perform her words exactly as written, but right now? I want to light that promise on fire. Screw the network and this manufactured engagement crap. I’m done with this fake bullshit. I want to tell Chase I love her—actually fucking love her.

I shove the ring box into my pocket and step into the spotlight. The crowd roars, but I’m only thinking about Chase. How do I make her understand that being afraid together outweighs being safe apart?

I'm in full performer mode, but my brain’s doing backflips. No way am I letting her ghost me after this is over. Not without one hell of a fight.

“Who’s ready for the premiere ofFa La La Love?” My voice booms through the speakers, steadier than I feel.

The crowd roars. I glance at the subscriber counter: 994,703… 705… 712… So close, but we’re not going to make it.

Stick to the script, Barrett. You can fix things with Chase later.

“But first…” I inhale deeply, centering myself. “It’s time for my Christmas wish. Let’s bring out the film’s director, Chase Pemberton.”

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