Page 67 of A Newport Christmess

Grams’s gaze landed on him. “Hello there, dear. What’s your name?”

“Carson. Remember? We already met. A couple times, actually.”

“We did?”

He nodded. “Can I help with your gingerbread house?”

She glanced back to the table and then to the frosting in her hand. “My gingerbread house? I don’t think it’s mine.”

And just like that, she’d slipped away again. But we’d been given a gift. Quinn had given us a gift. And it was in that moment I knew my feelings for her were definitely not pretend. Not anymore. Now, the problem was what to do about it.

SIXTEEN

QUINN

There was something blissful about a man doing the dinner dishes. Especially when he was also the one who’d prepared dinner. And more especially when he was as attractive as Landon. With the drying towel thrown over his shoulder, I was finding it difficult to concentrate on my decorating.

He glanced up to find me watching him—again. “How’s it going over there?”

“Good.” I bobbed my head up and down. “It’s good.”

He turned off the sink and wiped his hands. “What are you thinking about?”

“Nothing.” I needed a diversion. “Just wanted to say thanks again for taking me today to visit your grandma. I had a great time. With her. With your family. They’re all wonderful.”

He walked around the kitchen island toward the table. “It’s you who deserves my thanks. I haven’t heard Grams talk that much in years. After my grandpa died is when her Alzheimer’s set in. The doctors said, sometimes, when someone experiences trauma, like a loved one dying, it can physically damage the brain.” He shrugged. “I don’t know if that’s what led to it, but she hasn’t been the same since. And it got worse after my mom died.”

“It broke my heart that she kept looking for your grandpa.”

Landon nodded. “Mine too. But it’s always a joy to see her. I mean, how many times did she excitedly ask you your name, then tell you how beautiful you were? A dozen? Two?”

I laughed. “Something like that. And I’m not going to lie, I kind of feel like a million bucks now.”

“Ah. So that’s the trick.”

“I’d prefer if you remembered my name, though.”

He pulled out the chair next to me at the kitchen table and sat down. His serious expression felt out of place with our teasing. “Quinn.” He paused in a way that left my stomach in knots. “I told Nikki the truth today.”

I studied him, unable to form a response.

“Well, actually, she insisted—again—that she knew we were faking, and I couldn’t find it in me to deny it this time. With how muddied the waters are getting in this whole thing, I don’t think we should keep this going.”

My gaze dropped to my lap, my chest constricting around my sinking heart. “Yeah. That’s totally fine.”

“I don’t want you to misunderstand—”

“Really.” I lifted my gaze, putting on a smile. “It’s fine, Landon. You don’t need to offer an explanation or feel bad or anything. I knew exactly what I was agreeing to—”

“Considering where I think you’re headed, I do need to explain.” His eyes were locked on mine. “Quinn, I don’t want to continue with our scheme because I’ve realized I’m not pretending anymore. I can’t stop thinking about you. When I’m not with you, I wish I was. That’s not pretend. I want this. For real.”

I stared at him, trying to make sense of his admission despite the distracting celebratory reactions alighting through my whole body. “You do? Like, for real?”

“A ridiculous amount.”

“I want this, too.” I grabbed his hand on the table and intertwined my fingers with his. “Also a ridiculous amount.”

His knees turned toward me, and I mirrored him until we were facing each other in our chairs. The air felt heavy, and both our chests lifted in near sync with each other. His gaze slid to the side, and he tilted his head toward the partially completed gingerbread cabin. “You need to finish that one tonight, right?”