Page 83 of The Christmas Arrangement

“I am.”

“That’s actually not a bad negotiating position,” he says slowly, thinking it through. “It shows you have leverage. Gives you power in the relationship.”

“So you’ll make it happen?”

“I’ll make it happen. That’s my job. And for what it’s worth? I think you’re making the right call.”

“Why’s that?”

“I saw that first fake kiss just like the rest of the world. You were toast from that moment on.”

He hangs up laughing.

Ivy pushes herself up to seated. “You’re really staying?”

“I’m really staying.” I pull her closer. “Is that okay?”

She kisses me instead of answering. It’s a heck yeah kind of kiss.

Outside, snow starts to fall again on Mistletoe Mountain. Tomorrow, there will be more conversations to have, more healing to do, more pieces to pick up.

But right now, I’m exactly where I want to be.

Finally.

There’s just one more thing I want to do tonight. I swoop her up in my arms and carry her squealing and laughing to the bedroom.

Chapter 32

Christmas Morning

Two and a half weeks later

Ivy

* * *

The morning light filtering through the bedroom windows is soft and golden, catching dust motes in the air like tiny stars. No alarm. No agenda. No photographers—they finally got bored enough or cold enough to leave town.

It’s just me and Dash, spooning the way we always do under the thick down comforter, his breathing steady against my hair.

This is peace.

I turn onto my side and trace lazy circles on his chest, thinking about how much has changed in such a short time. Daniel and Rachel have been staying together in Stonebridge—actually together, like a couple. They’re moving fast, but I don’t exactly have room to talk. Not when I’m lying here with my fake boyfriend who became very real, very fast.

Dash stirs, his hand sliding up my spine. “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas.” I kiss his jaw. “I have something for you.”

“Wait.”

“Nope. Me first.” I scramble out of bed before he can protest and grab the wrapped box from the hiding spot in the closet.

He sits up against the headboard, his thick hair adorably rumpled, watching me with those intense brown eyes that never fail to make my stomach flip. When he tears off the paper, opens the box, and sees the framed photo, his sleepy expression softens. It’s a shot of him, Rachel, and Daniel, their arms slung over one another’s shoulders, grinning after they’ve crossed the finish line at the annual Run Rudolph Run 5K.

“I love it.” He places it on the nightstand with care.

“You said you don’t have any family photos.” I settle beside him, shoulder to shoulder. “Now you do.”