Page 116 of Rule 2: Never Join a Christmas Dating Show
“This town is gorgeous!” Flora exclaims.
“Fantastic!” Willow says with equal enthusiasm.
“Why don’t you ask them if you can imagine moving here sometime?” Ella suggests, her eyes flashing.
“I don’t think I would ever move back here after hockey,” I say.
Ella sighs. “This is a TV show. And you never know, right?”
I nod. “I guess.” I inhale and try to act casual. “So, can you imagine living here in a few years?”
Neither Willow nor Flora need coaching. They answer immediately, both giving lengthy explanations of the joys of small towns and their unique suitability to them. Flora expounds on the fact she apparently loves to visit small towns, and Willow leans on the fact she loves reading small town romance—though she can’t actually remember any exact titles.
“Why don’t you make a joke about how you hope Willow wouldn’t run off with the plaid-wearing blacksmith if you moved here?” Ella says, her eyes dancing.
“We don’t have any blacksmiths here,” I say, and he would probably be wearing aprons all the time to protect against the sparks and everything.
Ella shoots me a look that says I’ve missed the point yet again.
I want to ask more questions about where Sebastian is, but Ella and Mateo seem suspicious.
I rake my hand though my hair and frown. “I’m sorry. I’ve forgotten what I should say.”
Ella sighs. “This is unscripted television. I can’t write things down on cue cards.”
“Right. Of course. It was something about blacksmiths.”
“Just say, I hope you wouldn’t run off with a flannel-shirt wearing blacksmith,” Mateo says, giving me a kinder smile, and I sort of relax.
“Okay.”
“Now.”
“I hope you don’t run off with a flannel-shirt wearing blacksmith,” I say to Flora.
“Cut,” Ella says. “Remember, you’re talking to Willow.”
I frown.
“She’s the one who loves reading romance novels,” Mateo says.
“Right.” I try to smile, but my face is tight.
I didn’t sleep well last night. I didn’t have Sebastian in my arms, and my bed felt cold, even after I cranked the heat up.
I wanted slender arms around me, and I wanted soft breathing beside me. I wanted to duck down and capture a cock in my mouth, sucking on it until salty liquid filled my mouth. I wanted to move my fingers through short, silky hair, and to pull a warm body against my chest.
Instead, the room was cold, and my memories were insufficient, every time I remembered Sebastian is not meant for me. His life will always be separate. There is no great romance for us.
I inhale. My acting is worse than normal. I flick my gaze down the street. Maybe Sebastian will come now?
But only a steady stream of snow-smudged silver sedans slinks down the street, the drivers no doubt irritated they had to wait as I made my own shaky, overly alert way down the road for four successive takes while the traffic was blocked.
I say the line to the correct person.
Ella and Mateo sigh.
“It will all be over soon,” Mateo says, in what I expect he thinks is a comforting manner.
