Page 34 of Her Holiday Arrangement
“Too late,” Riley murmured, before she could stop herself.
Silence again.
But this time, it was charged, brittle and shimmering andalive. Riley felt like if she moved an inch, the whole moment would crack open and spill something dangerous.
Elizabeth didn’t respond. She just… looked at her. And Riley, suddenly breathless, realized they were facing each other. Barely a foot apart.
Riley’s thoughts started spiraling, fast and panicked.
Don’t kiss her. Don’t think about kissing her. Don’t think about what her lips feel like or what her hand would feel like on your hip or how you’d probably combust if she touched you right now. This is not a romance novel. This is your actual life, and you’ll actually ruin it.
Elizabeth blinked slowly, then rolled gently onto her back again, pulling the covers up to her chest. “Good night, Riley.”
Riley stared at the ceiling. Her whole body felt like it was vibrating.
“Yeah,” she whispered into the dark. “Good night.”
But it was a lie. She wasn’t sleeping tonight. Not a chance.
The Hale family great room was a snow globe of old money charm. Crimson and forest-green tartan pillows on antique armchairs. A roaring fire in the massive stone hearth. A gold-accented drinks cart in the corner, where Riley was fairly certain the brandy was older than she was.
The whole room smelled like mulled wine and generational wealth.
And Riley was trying not to combust.
She perched on the edge of a brocade love seat beside Elizabeth, attempting to concentrate on the convoluted board game currently in progress, something with wooden tokens andarcane rules that probably hadn’t been updated since the Nixon administration.
Across from her, Julian and Margot exchanged smug glances every time Riley asked, “Wait, what does this card mean again?”
Elizabeth, on the other hand, leaned in close and murmured, “Ignore them. You’re doing fine,” right into her ear.
Riley wasn’t fine. Not even close.
Because Elizabeth’s hand was resting on the back of her neck now, the pad of her thumb slowly brushing just under the edge of Riley’s hairline. It was probably meant to look affectionate. Reassuring. Like something a long-time girlfriend would do without thinking.
But Riley could barely remember how to hold her cards.
She managed to bluff her way through the next round, getting her team a surprising number of points, and then, as if possessed by some kind of ancient competitive spirit, threw herself into the next game with actual fire.
“Charades,” announced Annette Hale, with the air of a queen declaring war. “Elizabeth, you’re first. Riley, dear, you’re on her team.”
“May God help us all,” Riley muttered, but she stood and joined Elizabeth in front of the marble fireplace.
The next thirty minutes were a chaotic blur.
Elizabeth acted outPride and Prejudiceby miming a marriage proposal and then slapping herself across the face. Riley guessed it on the first try.
Riley acted outThe Nutcrackerwith such unhinged enthusiasm she nearly took out a lamp. Elizabeth, breathless from laughing, got it right anyway.
Everyone else watched them with varying degrees of suspicion, amusement, and barely disguised envy.
Elizabeth was smiling. Really smiling. And Riley was drunk on it.
It wasn’t until the fourth game, something with word associations and a buzzer that terrified Riley every time it buzzed, that she realized how close they were sitting again. Elizabeth had her arm along the back of the sofa, fingers lightly brushing Riley’s shoulder. Her knee bumped against Riley’s every time she shifted.
It was too much. Not enough. Impossible.
And then, someone shouted, “Mistletoe!”
