Page 65 of Merry Fake Bride

I ask carefully, acutely aware that she’s just spent three hours being interrogated and I don’t want to add to that, despite my curiosity.

“I was a teenager,” she replies, gazing out the window and walking her fingers gently through the condensation built up from the heat in here. “I was arrogant. Thought I knew more about the world than I actually did and that I didn’t need my parents. I was tired of small towns and small-town people.”

“What made you come home?”

Her fingertips pause and her head tilts, then she withdraws from the window and begins unpinning her braid from where it lies across her head.

“I got tired of L.A. and L.A. people.” She chuckles softly. “And I missed the small town life.”

It’s an answer that tells me nothing about her other than her ability to dodge a question she really doesn’t want to answer.

I can make an educated guess, given her parents’ financial situation and the stress of running the bakery.

“Would you go back?”

“To L.A.?” Her gaze locks with mine as her braid unfurls deftly between her fingers and rows of waves gradually frame her beautiful face. “No. I never want to go back there.”

“Why?”

I’m pushing too hard, like trying to catch the edge of a peelable lid that’s teasing me with release.

“Like I said, I missed the small town life. Particularly at Christmas.”

“Is it quiet or something?”

Her brows furrow together as confusion flashes in her eyes.

“No, of course not. If anything, it’s the busiest time of all. Don’t you also get swamped at Christmas?”

Thinking about Christmas makes my stomach churn.

My hand moves to my thigh, and my fingers briefly dig into the old scars hidden under my clothing as my leg threatens tobounce and betray my anxiety about anything related to this time of year. “I can’t say I’ve really done anything around this time of year.”

The last of her braid falls loose, and Devon tousles her hair with her fingertips while gaping at me.

“You’re kidding me, right? You have all the money in the world! Surely, you’ve experienced everything there is to experience in the magic of this time of year.”

“Meetings and boring dinners in fancy restaurants, sure.”

“You poor soul,” Devon groans. “Maybe it’s the city life because L.A. was the same. But back home?” Her eyes sparkle with a sudden childlike wonder. “We have a fair that takes up the entire street filled with everything you could possibly want to eat, lights on every lamp post and tree that turn the world so beautifully sparkly! The ice rink opens, the school puts on a play that everyone attends, there are dances and candy cane catching competitions. People dress up and go door to door singing to one another, you send an obnoxious number of Christmas cards, build gingerbread houses, and play find the candied walnut. Have you never doneanyof that?”

I shake my head, much to her astonishment. “Nope.”

“Okay, well… What about just enjoying the season?” She taps the glass with her fingers. “Making snowmen or snow angels, walking in the snow and leaving a story behind you until your ears and nose are about to freeze off?”

Again, I shake my head and her eyes widen further.

“Do you ever stop with your meetings and busy life to just take in the world?”

“No… not since my father died. Although I can’t say I ever did before that. Maybe when I was a child. Christmas was with the nanny until I was about seven, then it was time to learn how to be a man. This time of year is more about…”

Wincing, I fall silent while unsure whether I should admit how my world works.

Given how often she’s had to talk about herself tonight, I give in. “My world sees this time of year as the perfect time to apply pressure and force people into agreements they would otherwise avoid. Either through financial threats or anything that keeps them away from their family.”

“Wow.” She gives me a deadpan look and then laughs softly.

“You really need to take a step back and enjoy the world more.”