Page 56 of Bossing My Holiday
I stumble and bump into Brax, who throws me a funny look. I never trip. I’m always sure-footed. The one in constant control. Who may have to move back to Paris in the very near future even if it’s simply for part of the year. I don’t have time or room in my life to fall in love.
Yes, I like her. A lot. And yes, I wanted some of this to be real. I wanted Waverly as mine, but I knew it wasn’t feasible and could be only holiday fun between the three of us. I was laboring under the assumption that I’d get my fill of this, and then Brax and Waverly would continue on together since I know he wants that. This isn’t just fun for him. He’s serious about her.
But as I look at her, I know I’ve been lying to myself all thistime. I’m falling in love with her. And I have no clue what to do about that.
We move on to a stall selling gingerbread, and Brax buys three pieces despite Waverly’s protests that she’s still full from lunch and all the wine she’s been sipping.
“This isn’t about hunger,” Brax tells her, breaking off a piece and holding it to her lips. “It’s about experience.”
She rolls her eyes but opens her mouth, allowing him to feed her. Her lips brush his fingers, and I feel that now-familiar spark race up my spine at the sight of them. Her eyes hold his only to shift to mine as she chews, and something passes between us.
Without any care or thought, he bends and kisses her. Right here on the street. I should stop him. She’s supposed to be my girlfriend. But I want them to fall for each other. I want them to have each other. Two lost and lonely souls that should come together. That should find love and happiness.
“I’m going to check out the mulled wine over there. Try not to cause a public scandal while I’m gone.”
They break the kiss and look at me. “Or we could all try it together,” Waverly suggests. “My turn to buy.”
I roll my eyes at her but let her place her hand on my arm and drag us along.
“Having fun?” Brax asks.
“It’s magical,” she admits, looking around at the twinkling lights and festive stalls. “Though I’m starting to think your parents must be wondering where we are.”
“They’re at their own Christmas party tonight that I declined on all our behalf. It’s at my ex-wife’s parents’.”
Waverly’s eyes go wide. “Your ex-wife?!”
I laugh. “Jealous?”
“Um. I don’t know. I hadn’t given her any real thought other than that she was a vampire temptress who drank your bloodand left you for dead but accidentally turned you into a vampire instead.”
Brax snorts. “You’re not wrong on that description. That’s pretty much what Dianna is and what she did.”
“Wow. Okay. So weird. Glad we’re not going. Do I have to meet her? Will she be at your parents’ party?”
“No. She’s not allowed in my parents’ home.”
“That’s a relief.”
“Yes,” Brax agrees. “So it’s just us tonight.”
“Just us,” I confirm, watching a smile spread across his face. “Though I’m not done trying to spoil you yet.” I nudge Waverly.
She laughs, the sound light and sweet like the wine. “You’re impossible.”
“I prefer persistent. Come on. Be my girlfriend.”
I get a slow, rolling blink, and without stopping it, I lean in and kiss her. Because I can. Because right now, fake or not, she’s my girlfriend. And I want to enjoy this for as long as it lasts.
We wander through the market, and she asks us a million questions about our childhoods. Who our first kisses were with and what’s the worst thing we’ve ever done.
It’s impossible not to notice how easily the three of us fall into step together, and I know looking at Brax I’m not the only one thinking it. This thing between us should be complicated and messy—and it is—but there’s also an ease I never expected.
“What’s next on the Tristan Paris tour?” she asks, linking her arm through both of ours.
“That depends,” I reply, feeling a pleasant warmth that has nothing to do with the mulled wine. “How do you feel about heading back to the apartment?”
The look that passes between the three of us could set all the Christmas trees ablaze. I can’t help but think this might be more than just one of the best days of my life. It might be the beginning of something I never knew I wanted. Even if it’s something I know I can’t have.
