Page 28 of The Holiday Fakers
So, I focus on the road ahead as Piper eats. Her obvious enjoyment lifts my spirits, but when she starts to make unconscious sex noises, my dick jumps to attention, wanting to play.
What the fuck?
I should have dated again after I broke up with Marisa. Hooked up with the first woman who flashed her eyes at me. If I’d been getting some then maybe my dick would get the memo that Piper’s a friend. Nothing more.
It’s bad enough that I’m using her to help my career and build bridges with Ethan. There’s no way I’m crossing a line with her.
As if she’d want you anyway.
I meant what I said to her earlier. I wouldn’t ever put her with someone like me. Taint her by association and have people tear her to pieces online.
She’s got a happy life in Brooklyn that doesn’t include me or my celebrity bullshit.
I just hope that once Christmas is over, she can go back to that life in peace.
So why does the thought of saying goodbye again hurt so much?
I press a little harder on the gas. I just need to focus on getting us to Hideaway. A few carefully curated photos and difficult conversations with Ethan and the rest of Piper’s family, then we can both move on.
We stop a couple more times,and Piper takes a turn at the wheel. We don’t talk much, and when we do, it’s surface stuff. But after I take over driving again and we get closer to Hideaway Harbor, we both clam up, lost in our thoughts.
The town is by the coast but completely encircled by mountains. For years, it was difficult to access until the original mountain pass was widened. Snow covers the jagged rocks around us and drifts onto the road as we climb higher. It’s pretty, but I know how treacherous it can be. As we go over the pass,I pull into a viewpoint by the side of the road, the spot tourists always stop to take pictures.
Piper gets out, and I follow, standing by her side as we look down at Hideaway Harbor below us. The winter sun dips toward the horizon, heading into the golden hour, when everything is still visible, but there’s an illusion of darkness, with the lights twinkling like stars below.
I see the colored lights along Main Street, the town square, the Christmas decorations covering people’s houses like they all want to be seen from space. It’s like Who-ville, but I can’t be a total Grinch when Piper’s by my side. My childhood wasn’t all bad—it had its moments of joy, and I’d rather people went all in for Christmas than not at all.
“It’s so beautiful,” Piper murmurs.
I gaze at her, her eyes bright and cheeks flushed. Her hand hangs loose by her side, an inch from mine. Some crazy part of me wants to take it, but I know I can’t. Not unless Marv is about to leap out from behind a tree and shout, “Action!”
Piper glances at me. “Thank you for doing this.”
She’s talking about our fake relationship arrangement, but I play dumb. “Taking my car?”
Her head shakes, her loose blonde curls catching the dusky light.
“Pretending to be my boyfriend, and not saying how stupid I am for not telling Mom the truth.”
“You’ve never been stupid. I’m the one who punches the wrong people and makes friends with troublemakers. And I know what your mom is like. She just wants everyone to be as happy as she is with your dad.”
“I know.”
“I just hope we can bring her down gently after Christmas,” she continues. “You know, when we ‘break up.’”
The air quotes hit like a throat-punch.
There’s no way her mom will take our “break-up” well. When I’m insulated on the other side of the planet, Piper will be stuck fielding her mom’s questions and trying to find another boyfriend, a real one this time, to take my place.
I step back, feeling how cold the air is between us. “We should get going. Check into the hotel.”
She looks away, nods, then gets back in the truck, and I start the descent down to the town.
My eyes stay on the road, but I can’t help watching as Hideaway grows larger below us. The high school, the Locke Reserve, the harbor and lobster boats, every place triggers a memory, clear and vivid, like it just happened.
My chicken-shit self wants to turn around as the back of my neck prickles with sweat.
“I should call Mom and Dad,” Piper says, staring at her phone. “Give them the heads up before we arrive.”
