Chapter 21

I thought maybe dinner would be the last of it. No more talk of inspired love to complicate things even further, but I was wrong. Family tradition required postdinner activities to proceed as planned, which meant we all worked together to decorate for Christmas. The only thing worse than my mother sitting Simon down to see all thirteen Christmas ornaments plastered with my face—one for each year of school I’d completed—was John getting out the mistletoe. Mistletoe.

He was behind Simon when he pulled it out of the box, so only I saw the look on his face—the look that said Oh my yes, we’re going to use this tonight. I gave my head a slight shake, trying to warn him with my eyes, but it was a lost cause. He nearly vaulted over a box of ornaments to get to where Simon and I stood, then pinned the mistletoe up directly over our heads.

“Subtle, John,” I said. “Really subtle.”

Simon looked up at the mistletoe. He knew as well as I did that John was in on our secret, so he had to be wondering what John was up to. But it was too late for it to matter. Abuela watched us from the couch. “Un beso,” she called. “Un beso!”

There was a question in Simon’s eyes when he looked at me. Should we? Did I want him to? I looked back at Abuela, who still watched, both hands pressed against her heart. I turned back to Simon and smiled, leaning toward him enough for him to know that, yeah, this was happening.

“Are you sure?” He whispered so softly I nearly missed his words.

“They’re all watching,” I whispered. “Kiss me.” In my head, I assumed it would be something chaste, simple. Nothing more than a little peck. But Simon clearly had other plans. He touched my face first, his fingers lingering on the side of my cheek before they slid to the curve of my neck. His other hand wrapped around my waist and rested on the small of my back. It was too obvious. Surely everyone would realize we’d never done this before. But I didn’t care. All I cared about was that Simon’s lips were seconds from touching mine and in that moment, there wasn’t anything in the world I wanted more.

Fire. That was what it felt like. Heat up and down my arms, tingling all over every inch of my skin. The kiss only lasted a moment. I mean, my grandma was in the room, after all, but it was long enough. Long enough for me to know that everything had changed and I couldn’t ignore it anymore.

I took a step backward, creating enough distance between Simon and me to catch my breath. It wasn’t enough. I needed air. Space. Answers. “I’m gonna go for a walk.” I hurried to the front door and reached for my coat hanging on the antique coatrack in the corner. Simon was right behind me, but I didn’t stop, not until I was down the porch steps and halfway across the lawn.

“Lane, wait!” he called out after me.

I turned around, my hands shoved deep into my coat pockets.

“Don’t run away,” he said.

“Why are you doing this?”

He looked guilty but not necessarily ashamed. “Mistletoe?”

I huffed in frustration. “Not just the kiss. The words. What you said at dinner. I know I brought you here to convince my family we were in love, but I guess I didn’t expect you to be quite so convincing. You’re messing with my head, Simon.”

The way he stood illuminated by the porch light behind him, I couldn’t see anything but his outline. Not his eyes or the set of his mouth. He was a shadow. “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “I’m not trying to mess with you. I’m definitely not trying to hurt you.”

A sharp wind rustled the leaves around our feet and tossed my hair into my face. I pushed it out of the way and pulled my scarf higher. Simon had left the house without a coat. “You should go back inside.”

“Lane.”

“I need a minute, all right? Tell them . . . tell them I’m talking to Randi.”

He nodded, then backed up toward the house. “Okay.”

I didn’t call Randi. I was too keyed up to talk to anyone. Instead, I walked laps around my parents’ neighborhood, wondering what on earth I’d gotten myself into. Three things were very clear. First, I’d never felt that level of intensity when kissing Jamie. Second, I was pretty sure whatever I’d felt, Simon had felt it too. And third, I had no idea what I was supposed to do about it.

John found me camped out at the playground at the end of my parents’ block. He walked across the little mini field where I’d played soccer as a kid and joined me on the swing set. He was silent for a minute, his too-long legs spread out in front of him. “I feel like this is my fault.”

“What?”

“You. Out here. Hiding from everyone.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“Mom thinks you’re hiding. Simon told her you were talking to Randi, but that was close to an hour ago.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“You okay?”

“No.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Lane, I’m sorry about the mistletoe. I probably pushed it too far.”

I didn’t respond. He had pushed it too far, but it was good that he had. If anything, it made me confront my feelings, and for that I was long overdue.

“I guess I wanted to see if what he’d said at dinner was true. He sounded so sincere.”

“So you set us up to have a first kiss in front of our entire family.”

“It seemed like a good idea at the time?”

“Ha. Yeah. I’m sure it did.”

“Do you think you’re maybe falling for him?”

I pushed back on the swing, dragging my boots through the dirt. “I don’t know. Maybe. If I let myself go there, then yes. I wanted that kiss, John. I didn’t even care that the whole family was watching. When I stop thinking about all the reasons why I shouldn’t be, I’m so drawn to him.”

“Everyone sees it, Lane. You guys seem so in tune with each other.”

“Granny Grace saw it too. She warned me even. Early on when I didn’t have a clue myself.”

“What did she tell you to do?”

I huffed out a laugh. “To stay away from Simon if I didn’t want trouble with Jamie.”

“It’s definitely more complicated because they’re brothers,” John said.

“It’s impossible because they’re brothers. Simon would never do that to Jamie. He told me himself how deep his family loyalty runs.”

“So you’re stuck,” John said. “No matter what you do . . .”

“I’m going to lose them both.”

* * *

I could tell Simon wanted to talk. About our kiss. About everything, probably. It was in his eyes, in the way he watched me. But I was always one step ahead. Starting conversations with my parents. Clinging to Abuela’s side like she couldn’t last a minute without me. By Saturday evening, Simon and I hadn’t spent more than five minutes alone. We had, however, managed to have an incredible time with my family. Shopping and out to dinner in downtown Asheville. Driving on the Blue Ridge Parkway. Visiting the Chocolate Lounge enough times to determine their lavender honey caramel truffle was absolutely the best one.

We spent the second half of Saturday at the Biltmore Estate. We toured the house, then waited in the great hall for the lighting of the Christmas tree. It was massive—nearly thirty-five feet—but I loved the gardens more. Strewn with Christmas lights, the sidewalks and pathways lined with luminarias, the gardens felt a little like a fairy tale. Fairy tales can do only so much against the cold though, which was why after just a few minutes of walking outdoors, the rest of my family headed inside, leaving Simon and me to walk the garden pathways on our own.

“Alone at last,” Simon said, falling into step beside me.

I shivered, pulling my gloves out of my pocket so I could put them on. “Big wimps,” I said, looking back at my retreating family.

“Let’s call your parents and brother wimps,” Simon said. “I think your abuela gets a pass though. It’s never this cold in Puerto Rico.”

“True.”

“You know, she’s sweeter than I thought she was going to be.”

“Who? Abuela? She just has you charmed,” I said.

“Completely. I guess I thought with all the talk of matchmaking, she’d be a little more . . . I don’t know. Out there.”

“It’s probably my fault you had that impression.”

“I’m pretty sure the guy just off his mission showing up at your office gave me that impression.”

I chuckled. “Maybe so.”

“I’ve enjoyed getting to know your family,” Simon said. “They’re great.”

We turned a corner and headed back toward the house. “We have that in common, then. I love your family too.”

He nodded. “Speaking of family, have you talked to Jamie lately?”

I dropped my gaze to the ground. The answer to his question was easy. Explaining why was another matter altogether.

“Lane, he’s worried. Are you avoiding his calls on purpose?”

I dropped onto a concrete bench beside the pathway, the cold seeping through my clothes so quickly I immediately regretted my decision to sit. Simon lowered himself down beside me.

“I’m avoiding his calls mostly because it’d be weird to spend a lot of time talking to him when my family thinks you’re him,” I said.

He leaned forward, perching his elbows on his knees, looking at the ground between his feet. After a beat of silence, he turned his head, catching my eye. “Is that the only reason?”

“Don’t ask me that, Simon. I’m still working through how I feel about Jamie. I know I need to talk to him. And I will as soon as I’m back in Chapel Hill. But it feels like too much to try to sort everything out now.”

“Lane! Simon!” John’s voice echoed across the garden. We stood, waving him over. He broke into a jog, covering the distance between us in a few strides. “Abuela isn’t feeling well, so Dad’s gone to get the car. We’re going to head home.”

“Is she okay?”

“We think so,” John said. “She’s asked for hot chocolate and a warm blanket, so I think she’s probably just cold.”

“And tired too,” I said. “There are a lot of stairs in the Biltmore House, and she climbed them all.” The three of us walked together toward the front of the house, where Dad was already waiting in the SUV. Mom was helping Abuela into the front seat. Simon stepped up and offered his assistance, closing the door for Abuela, then offering my mother a hand as she climbed into the back.

On the drive home, Simon and I squeezed into the very back, leaving John in the middle with Mom. Simon put his arm around me, and I leaned in, resting my head against his shoulder. It felt warm. Right. Like I belonged there and nowhere else. It was probably wrong to feel that way. Probably more wrong to sit that way. But the longer we were together, the more I found myself wishing that Simon wasn’t pretending. That our time together was more than a candlelit fairy tale. Granny Grace told me the heart wants what the heart wants. My heart seemed bound and determined to prove her right.

Jamie: Brothers. I have news. Serious, big, exciting news.

Dave: What time is it in California? I’m still asleep, and we’re three hours ahead of you.

Jamie: 5:30 AM. Can’t sleep. Too much on my mind.

Simon: What’s the news?

Jamie: I’ve found a house.

Simon: Yeah?

Jamie: Just down the street from the office. In a nice neighborhood but still close enough to the city. Lane will be able to commute into a hotel without any trouble.

Simon: So you’re asking her to move to California with you?

Dave: It’s about time if you are. All this back and forth has to be killing your relationship.

Jamie: I’m asking her to marry me. I just bought the ring.

Dave: Congrats, bro. I’m happy for you.

Simon: Are you sure you’re ready?

Jamie: I have to go for it. She was worried I had doubts. I have to show her I don’t.

Simon: When will you ask her?

Jamie: Not until I’m home. Wednesday or Thursday, probably. Don’t blow my cover. I want it to be a surprise.