Total pages in book: 47
Estimated words: 44479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44479 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 222(@200wpm)___ 178(@250wpm)___ 148(@300wpm)
“Okay, let’s do this.”
My father beams with a triumphant smile, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Great. I hate to ask this of you both, honestly, but I think it’ll be fun."
I blink at him, my expression frozen in disbelief as if he’s suddenly sprouted five heads. "Fun?" I echo, the word tasting bitter on my tongue as a pit of dread begins to form at the base of my stomach. I can’t fathom how he thinks this situation is anything close to fun.
He shrugs, his gray eyebrows arching high on his forehead as if to say, ‘Why not?’ and then he begins, "Well..." His voice trails off as he senses my growing discomfort.
Before he can find the right words, my mother jumps in, her voice soft but insistent. "What I think your father means is you should look at this not like a death sentence, but more like a game." She gives him a pointed look, nudging him with her elbow. "Isn’t that right, dear?"
"Absolutely," my father agrees, catching her cue. His enthusiasm returns, and he nods emphatically. "Nobody has to know it’s fake but us. I’m not asking you both to do anything you’re uncomfortable with—just some light hand-holding, maybe a quick peck on the cheek. Easy, and fun," he adds, as if it’s all so simple.
I steal a glance at York, my heart pounding as I search his face for any sign of what he’s truly feeling about this bizarre scheme. His expression is unreadable, calm as ever, until he finally speaks. "Anything for the good of the team," he says with a casual shrug, his tone light and agreeable.
But his words hit me like a punch to the gut, my heart sinking even though I know it shouldn’t. I’ve loved York for as long as I can remember—my entire adult life, at least. The idea of pretending to be his girlfriend should thrill me, should be the highlight of everything I’ve ever wanted. But instead, it feels like a cruel twist of fate, because deep down, I know there’s zero chance of me ever being his real girlfriend. It’s a sad reality, one I’ve come to terms with, but that doesn’t make this situation any less painful. Pretending to be his for a little while might be the closest I’ll ever get to what I’ve always dreamed of, and the thought of it being fake makes the ache in my chest even more unbearable.
However, I’m determined to enjoy myself. I have to, right? Even if this whole situation feels like an emotional minefield, I’m going to make the best of it—at least on the surface.
“When’s the first outing?” I ask, forcing a bright smile, my voice a little too chipper to be entirely genuine.
My mother’s eyes light up at my eagerness, and she glances toward the empty spot in the living room where our Christmas tree usually stands, a festive beacon of holiday cheer. “Well, we need a Christmas tree,” she says, her tone hopeful as she gestures toward the vacant space that suddenly feels glaringly empty without its usual adornment of twinkling lights and ornaments.
“Great,” I say, my smile widening as I decide to take charge of this strange, unexpected situation. I can do this. I’m going to throw myself into it with everything I’ve got, even if it means pretending for a little while longer. “I’m going to go get ready, and we can head out this afternoon.”
The words spill out of me with more confidence than I feel, but the idea of searching for a Christmas tree, something so normal and comforting, is enough to steady me. At least for now, I can focus on the simple joy of finding the perfect tree, even if everything else feels complicated.
Chapter 6
York
Noelle looks absolutely adorable in her pink knit cap and matching winter coat, the soft colors bringing out the flush in her cheeks from the cold. I watch as she thoughtfully peruses every tree in the lot, her brow furrowed in concentration as she searches for what she calls “the perfect tree.” There’s something endearing about the way she takes this task so seriously, her focus completely absorbed in the hunt.
I can’t keep my eyes off her. The way she moves from one tree to the next, her gloved fingers brushing against the branches as she inspects them with the same care she might use in selecting a precious keepsake, makes it impossible to look away. A big smile tugs at the corners of my mouth as I continue to watch her, my chest tightening with an unfamiliar feeling.
Her parents were all too eager to let us handle this on our own, suggesting that it would be a nice little outing for us as a “happy couple.” Her father even took it a step further, calling a few paparazzi to let them know we’d be here. It’s not like I’m some A-list celebrity, but the local press loves a good story, and her dad knows how to play the game.