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This feeling made me want to do something, make a declaration or stop time, anything to get Hugh to realize that this wasn’t any kind of pretend for me any longer.
As the night went on and we hung out with family, ate the lavish sit-down dinner Dirk had meticulously planned, and danced to the live band on the stage at the far end of the wooden dance floor, I began to realize the something I wanted to do was find a way to keep this.
To keep Hugh.
The sound of his laughter as he watched Marigold dance with our niece Rosette was one of many moments that easily scaled the high fences I’d tried to erect for my own protection. There were many others. The look on his face as Birch toasted his “precious daughter.” The taste of champagne and buttercream frosting on his mouth as he smacked a kiss on me at midnight. The heat of his lower back against my hand as I held him while we slow danced to “Auld Lang Syne.”
Was I really going to give this up tomorrow… out of fear that I might have to give it up someday?
In business, I’d learned the concept of future forecasting early on—analyzing historical data to anticipate outcomes. But I’d always scoffed at those who liquidated their assets because they were afraid of a potential downturn. And I’d never, not once, decided the world was so risky I needed to stop investing entirely.
So why was I doing that with Hugh?
And Jesus, suddenly, I sounded like Lesya and Boone and James… which probably meant I’d been acting like an idiot for a while now, and everyone saw it but me.
But never let it be said that Oscar Overton failed to capitalize on a golden opportunity when it came across his desk… or nestled warmly and comfortingly in his arms. Never let it be said that I couldn’t learn from my damn mistakes.
“Come home with me,” I murmured into Hugh’s ear during the last dance.
The easy rumble of his laugh made me smile. “Isn’t that a given? I’m kind of a sure thing.”
“I wasn’t sure. I wanted to make it clear that I want you to stay.”
Once again, Hugh seemed to be more relaxed than I would have expected. With the wedding ending and New Year’s Day officially here, I assumed he’d be tense and emotional. The fact that he was so calm unnerved me.
Didn’t he care? Wasn’t he upset this was ending tomorrow? Had I read him wrong?
I’d assumed he’d want more, want our fake boyfriendship to continue as a real relationship, but what if that wasn’t the case? What if Hugh was completely fine with the return to our status quo? Text friendship or, worse, nothing at all?
After we said goodbye to my family and my mother reminded me for the tenth time about the casual New Year’s breakfast buffet back here in the barn in the morning, Hugh and I set off across the snowy lawn toward my house.
“That was fun,” Hugh said, swinging my hand and glancing up at the stars in the clear black sky.
It was cold as fuck in the winter night air, but my body was still plenty warm from drinking and dancing. “I’m glad. Thanks again for coming with me.”
He glanced over at me. “Your family is pretty terrific. By the way, Hyacinth overheard you calling her your ‘gorgeous sister, the bride’ to one of the guests. No step. She got a little teary.”
I ducked my head. “She was so happy tonight, wasn’t she? I think they’ll do well together.”
Hugh’s gaze warmed the side of my face. I could see the teasing grin out of the corner of my eye. “What?” I asked without looking at him. I could tell he was in a teasing mood.
“Did you have fun at a wedding? Am I sensing a miracle here?”
I fought a smile. “Absolutely not. And if you imply otherwise, I’ll toss you in the frozen pond and leave you to fend for yourself. How dare you malign my reputation like that?”
His soft laughter carried through the frigid air on a white vapor cloud. “I’ve got a cheesy pickup line for you?—”
“Was it about meeting at a wedding earlier? Because you already tried that one, and I agree. Cheesy as hell. I had to rate it on a pity curve.”
Hugh shoved my shoulder. “That wasn’t cheesy. That was a solid nine out of ten, for… for… specificity and charisma.”
I laughed out a cloud of steam. “Sure it was, baby.”
“The line I’m referring to is ‘I’m not a photographer, but I can picture us together.’” Hugh waggled his eyebrows at me suggestively. “Get it?”
A green fog of jealousy came out of nowhere and curdled my gut. “Who said that to you?” I glanced back at the barn where several guests still milled around, chatting and laughing. “Who?”
Hugh’s eyes widened as we both stopped walking. “To me? No one. I read it on a wedding photography blog last week. I waited all night to use it on you but never found the right moment.”
