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The Mistletoe Motive(50)

Author:Chloe Liese

Two cups of Darjeeling in hand, with a splash of milk and whiskey in each, I walk carefully back to the chairs and pass him his. “I put a sugar cube and a peanut butter blossom on the saucer. Not sure if you could use a little boost or not right now.”

“Thank you.” He takes the cup from me and forgoes the sugar cube but bites into the cookie.

Sitting across from him, I tuck my legs underneath me.

We drink our tea and crunch on our cookies in silence, staring into the fire. Until I glance his way and notice Jonathan’s watching me. “What is it?”

He stares at me for a moment longer before he drains his tea, then sets it aside and says, “The numbers are in. Congratulations, Miss Di Natale. You won.”

My stomach sinks. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

“Why not? You should be proud, Gabriella. You outsold me. Not that I ever doubted you would.”

Tears blur my vision. It feels like an ice pick puncturing my chest.

I drain my tea, hoping it will thaw the chill spreading through my body, but I don’t even feel the whiskey burn its way down as I blurt, “You’re not quitting for sure, right?”

Jonathan examines me carefully, hands interlaced across his stomach. “Those were the terms of our agreement.”

“What if I’ve changed my mind?” I whisper around tears thickening my throat. “What if I wanted you to stay?”

He’s very still. Very quiet. Until he finally says, “You’d want that?”

I stare at him, tearing deeper inside myself. Should I want Jonathan around? When I’m drawn to him, when I miss our bickering, and I wish I could kiss him again, when I’m meeting Mr. Reddit, the friend I’ve hoped could become more?

Words catch in my throat. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what I want. I feel like I’m falling apart.

“I—” The words catch in my throat, until they finally spill out. “I’m torn.”

“About what?” Jonathan asks quietly.

I glance away, staring into the fire. “Because whatever’s going on with us…it’s messing with me. And there’s someone I care about, but it’s…complicated. Right now, we’re just friends. That’s all we’ve ever been.”

“Friends,” he repeats softly.

“I hoped maybe we’d become more, and I think he’s hoped so, too, but now—” I blink away tears. “I don’t know what I hope or think. We’ve never met in person before. We’ve only ever talked online. I mean it’s been over a year, so I feel like I know at least parts of him very well, but that’s not the same as knowing someone in real life, is it?”

He rubs his knuckles across his mouth. “How did you meet?”

“You’re about the only person who I don’t have to preface this with, ‘don’t laugh,’ because you don’t seem to possess that bodily impulse, but I met him on a nerdy bookish Reddit thread. He’s…perfect,” I tell him bleakly. “At least in our chat he is. And in that chat, I’m perfect, too. There’s no real-life tension, barely any of my autistic traits foregrounded to trust him with and hope he’s gentle toward. I’ve told myself it’s this magical thing, how well we get along, but that’s not reality, and I know I’ve been hiding behind a screen, hiding from being fully known and loved for all of who I am. Which is why I told myself I was going to be brave. And now I have plans to meet him in person.”

“When?” Jonathan says, voice soft and dark as a midnight snowy walk.

“After we close for the holidays. Three days from now.”

The hand in front of his mouth tightens to a fist. “Where are you meeting him?”

I give him a look. “Don’t even think about playing security. I already had to talk down June, who’s insisted on coming. We’ve agreed that she’s allowed to observe from a discreet distance. She watches too much Criminal Minds—”

“Gabriella,” he says, eyes pinning mine as he repeats himself. “Where are you meeting?”

“The Winter Wonderland display at the conservatory.”

Jonathan’s fisted hand drops to his lap, his gaze fastened on me. “Sounds like something you’d love.”

“It is,” I admit. He holds my eyes so intensely, I start to shift uneasily in my chair. “What about—” I fight the roar of jealousy clawing through me. “What about you? Is there someone?”

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