Page 40 of The Shift Between Us (Covewood #2)

Olivia leans into me, and her arm loops through mine as she laughs at something Jerrica said. Everything with Olivia feels effortless—like she’s already mine. But she’s not. And she has no idea how much that’s messing with me.

I’ve spent years pushing the feelings down, hiding them behind jokes and late-night movie marathons and pretending I didn’t notice the way her smile made everything feel a little lighter.

But now, every time she slips her fingers through mine, every time she rests her head on my shoulder like she belongs there…

I start to wonder if maybe I was wrong to keep quiet .

If this is pretend, then I don’t want reality unless she’s in it, but how do I risk asking for more when she’s the one person I can’t bear to lose?

“There are a few food trucks that are set up each year, and one that I am excited to show you is nothing but different types of hot chocolate. There’s an ice-skating rink, horse-and-buggy rides through the rest of the neighborhood, and of course, Santa.”

She whips her head to me, her eyebrows furrowing. “I can’t believe how much you’ve downplayed your Christmases with your family. You’ve never told me how incredible everything is here. I would much rather experience this magical place every year.”

“You make everything just as magical, Liv. I would rather experience Christmas with you,” I add, feeling brave as I reach up to lift her chin until her eyes connect with mine. She looks as if she’s trying to hold in a laugh.

“Only because my Buddy the Elf Christmas spirit will rub off on you. How could you come to this every year”—she waves her arms around us—“and still act like a Grinch? It’s almost criminal. You should just throw yourself in jail every Christmas season.”

She’s laughing, her arms twisting around my shoulders, her fingers sliding up to tickle the hair at the base of my skull. I place my hands on the dip between her waist and hips, and my tongue loosens up as a truth slips from me.

“Trust me, there were times I would have rather spent the holidays in a jail cell than be here. I realize now that it was only because I wasn’t with you. I never want to experience Christmas without you ever again.”

She presses her lips into a tight line, her throat bobbing with a heavy swallow, the slightest sign of emotion shining in her eyes, before she replies, “I don’t want to spend another Christmas without you either. ”

“Come on.” I lead her through the crowd of people, making sure to peer over my shoulder and give her a smile.

“I like this look on you, Lukie Bear.” She giggles as I roll my eyes at the nickname.

“What look, Cupcake?” I ask once we take our place in a long line in front of the hot chocolate truck.

Olivia is staring up at me, a shy smile pulling on the corner of her mouth, a hint of red showing on her cheeks. “Like you’re not carrying as much weight on those big shoulders of yours. I’ve never seen you smile this much.” Her voice is sticky-sweet, like the honey cakes she makes.

I remove one of the gloves from my hands so I can cup her cheek, rubbing her skin with the pad of my thumb. Her eyes flutter, goosebumps appear on the exposed skin of her neck, and her breath hitches. It’s all the courage that I need to be honest with her.

“I’ve never fake-dated you before.”

“So you’re smiling so much because you’re fake-dating me?” she questions.

I stare at her, trying to figure out her body language. She hasn’t moved away from the hold I have on her, but her hands on my waist have loosened their grip, and her eyes dart over my face as she waits for my response.

I ponder on which answer I should give her, because I’m unsure of how much I should share or how I can avoid baring my entire heart and deepest secret to her. Eventually, I need to tell her the truth, but I want to have that conversation once we’re back home.

I’m thinking about backing away to give us both some space before I do something that could potentially scare her off when someone behind us shouts, “Hey, look up, you two!”

Olivia blinks a few times, her lips parting in surprise, and I mimic her, seeing a mistletoe hanging from the light post we’re currently standing under. It feels like a sign from God himself, giving me the okay to pursue this. After all, He taught me that the truth will always prevail.

I lean in toward her, my gaze moving down the slope of her nose, landing on her perfect lips.

I bring my mouth toward hers but stop before they can touch.

I’m not going to kiss her. Not until I know it’s what she wants.

Right now, I can tell that isn’t the case, because of the way she hesitates, the smallest reminder that she told me not to kiss her this weekend.

It takes all my restraint to move my lips away from hers and place them by her ear and whisper a simple truth.

“It hasn’t been fake. Not for me, anyway.”

And before she can reply, I lean in and kiss her on the cheek, feeling her warmth seep into my chilled lips.

As I pull away, her eyes are surprisingly clear and bright.

They search mine, back and forth. Her nose scrunches as if she’s pondering what I admitted about my feelings, and I trace my thumb over her jawline before I take a step back and slip my glove back on.

My voice sounds like sandpaper as I say, “Come on, let me introduce you to the best cup of hot chocolate you’ll ever taste.”