Page 9 of Fake It for Christmas

“What are you looking for, kiddo?” the old lady said, peering at me from over her thick glasses.

“Oh,” I said. “Well, the recipe asks for baking chocolate, but there are four different kinds here. Unsweetened, bittersweet, milk…”

She looked down at my phone. “For a cake like that? Looks beautiful. Go for the bittersweet. You’ll be adding enough sugar that it’ll turn out delicious in the end.”

I let out a breath I hadn’t known I’d been holding. “Thank you so much,” I said, grabbing two packages of the chocolate. “And… for the sugar, should I get, uh, granulated, powdered, or confectioners?”

“Powdered for the icing, granulated for the cake itself,” she told me.

“You’re a lifesaver.”

She grinned at me. “Cooking for your sweetheart?”

“No, no,” I said. “Just for… a friend.”

A guy I barely know who’s coming over to be my fake boyfriend.

I grabbed the rest of the ingredients throughout the store in a rush and beelined to my car, heading home.

I flipped on the little switch outside that turned on my Christmas lights, loving the way the multicolored bulbs made the front of my house look adorable rather than sad.

“Okay,” I said under my breath as I unloaded all of the ingredients out onto my counter. I realized I didn’t have proper cake pans, but I had a couple of cheap pie pans that had been left here after some Thanksgiving gathering long ago. I followed the recipe for the chocolate cake layers and then realized that I’d forgotten to preheat the oven.

Rowen was supposed to arrive in twenty minutes.

And I hadn’t even gotten the oven on yet, let alone started the peanut butter frosting or the top layer of chocolate ganache.

My heart was pounding. I looked all around the house, realizing I hadn’t set anything else up yet, either. I zipped around, lighting some candles, turning on the rest of the holiday decor, and putting on some music in the background.

A nervous flutter had kicked up in my chest.

I used to have people over all the time, but in recent years, it had really just been my sister.

I hadn’tdonethis in a while. Certainly not with a very attractive guy who I was going to be faking a relationship with. I wanted…

I wanted him to like me, if I was being honest.

I hopped in the shower, rinsed off, and put on a nice sweater and simple jeans. My cheeks were a little red in the way I hated, because I thought it made me look like a little boy who’d just come inside from playing out in the cold.

“Shit. The cakes,” I said out loud as I headed back out to the kitchen, finally sliding them into the hot oven.

I got started on the peanut butter icing, rushing as I poured powdered sugar, peanut butter, and regular butter into a bowl. I grabbed my hand mixer and turned it on high, and a huge cloud of powdered sugar shot up into the air, coating the front of my sweater in a plume of fine white.

And then I heard a knock at the door.

The back of my neck felt hot as I went to answer the door.

This wasnothow I’d wanted it to be when Rowen got here.

I swung open the door to see Rowen under the low glow of the Christmas lights, with a bottle of whiskey in one hand and a big bouquet of fresh flowers in the other. He had his camera slung around one shoulder.

My heart landed somewhere up near my throat.

“You brought flowers?” I said.

“All for you, boyfriend,” he said, smiling as he leaned forward, giving the bouquet a sniff. “Some dahlias, some amaranth flowers, and a few red roses.”

I stepped aside so he could come in. I felt heat creeping up to my cheeks even more now.

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