Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 57067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57067 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 285(@200wpm)___ 228(@250wpm)___ 190(@300wpm)
Is she sassing me right now, despite everything?
“Why do I feel like that has a double purpose?”
“Oh, really?” She murmurs, all innocence. “I’m not sure what you mean…”
“Yeah, right,” I say.
“What’s your grand theory then?”
“That maybe I’m the Grinch in your Christmas story.”
She laughs. Laughs. Hell, it’s a sweet sound. “I don’t know. You’re pretty grumpy, so there’s that.”
“Plenty to be grumpy about,” I say.
“Well–do you think there are any similarities?”
“Not sure. Never seen it.”
Her surface-level mask slips, and real shock punches through her shield. “You’ve never seen the Grinch?”
“Nope.”
“I mean the Jim Carrey version. How the Grinch Stole Christmas. The one everyone has seen.”
“Might come as a surprise, Sparkles, but Christmas movies have never been my thing.”
She sits up, looking at me with a challenge on her flawless face. “I think it’s time we changed that.”
What happened to you hating me? What happened to the resentment and the fear?
I know I should ask her this. I should break this spell. For her own good. For mine. For her brother’s. But I can’t. Because she’s making me forget who I am and what I’ve done and what I’ll have to do if we’re going to make it through this in one piece.
I think she reads my expression, something no other woman has ever accomplished. Not that I’ve given them much chance.
“Don’t,” she whispers.
“Don’t…”
“Don’t make it real,” she goes on. “My life is falling to pieces, and for a little while, I just want it to be Christmas, okay? Is that too much to ask?”
No. It’s not. She’s been through a lot.
“It looks like I’m going to pop my Grinch cherry tonight then.”
She laughs for the second time. It’s no less sweet. “Then it looks like we’re having a movie night.”
In a world of darkness and death, this is somehow the most surreal thing she could possibly say.
“Sounds like a plan, Evergreen.”
She folds her arms. “Okay, what’s with the nicknames?”
“Seems appropriate for a Christmas-obsessed girl like you.”
A smile, but then a glint of guilt she can’t hide. She looks at me like I’m breaking her and elevating her at the same time. Like I’m the answer and the problem. No one’s ever looked at me like this before. And if they had, I wouldn’t have cared.
With Celine, I care too damn much.
She pushes the conflicted expression away and lets her mask return. “Well, if you think of any more, let me know.”
As I drive, I do something foolish. I let my hand rest on her thigh. She doesn’t push it away. A shudder moves through her, but I don’t need to look at her to know it’s a good thing.
A pleasurable thing. Is there anything just good about this, in an uncomplicated way?
I take a different route than this morning, constantly searching the rearview and the mirrors, alert to any change or anything suspicious. She sighs and places her hand on mine.
Too damn natural. But we don’t stop.
At home, we hurry inside, walking through the overgrown yard and into the rundown house. She looks around the kitchen, her gaze resting on the floor for a few moments.
Then she looks at me. Confusion. Terror. A complicated mess of emotions.
“I’m going to grab a shower, then we’ll watch the movie?”
I force a smile onto my face, hoping it looks real… non-Grinch-like. “Sure.”
When she leaves for her shower, I step into the brightly decorated living room and urge myself to end this. I shouldn’t turn on the TV and rent the movie on demand. I shouldn’t go into the kitchen and make some hot cocoa… which I only bought earlier because I know she likes it. It was what she was drinking before Rico confronted her.
I shouldn’t want her.
But I do these things because I want her to be happy.
That’s the story I tell myself.
Deep down, I know the truth is more selfish. I want her to be happy, sure.
Also, I just plain want her.
CHAPTER 14
CELINE
After my shower, I wipe steam from the mirror and stare at my reflection.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
The decision came in the last two hours of my shift. Luckily, I’d been rushed off my feet, unable to spend any meaningful time thinking. Then there was a lull, and it all came rushing in — a crush of regret, fear, and anxiety. I went into the breakroom and stared at the Christmas tree.
The holidays shouldn’t be like this. I’m normally smiling from ear-to-ear starting December 1st until December is over. So, I tell myself, why don’t I just pretend? Not forever, obviously… but for one night, would it really be so bad if I allowed myself to forget about this? Would that make me a terrible person?
“He’s a killer,” I tell my reflection. “He admitted it. Just because Rico deserved it, does that make it okay?”
Whatever else is true, I know one thing. He’s driving me crazy in more ways than one.