Page 157 of The Temporary Fiancée
She looks up at me skeptically, but opens the envelope nonetheless. She pulls out the folded piece of paper inside. Her eyes scan it several times, widening with each readthrough; then her hands drop, and she looks up at me in shock. “Is… is this…”
“Yeah. It is.”
Her jaw drops, and tears well at the corners of her eyes. She shakes her head. “Oh… oh my god. This is way too much. I can’t…”
“No, it’s not,” I tell her gently, laying my hand on her wrist. “I’d give you the world if I could. This is just a small corner of it, but it’s a start.”
She looks at the paper again—the deed to the building where, she told me, she has always dreamed of opening up a shop. Her own business. She wipes her eyes, and lets out a tiny, choked laugh. “I can’t accept this.”
“Of course you can. It’s yours.”
“But—but—how did you?—”
“I bought it for you,” I say. “You can do whatever you like with it. You can open up a shop there, or not. Either way—it’s yours now.”
She’s silent for a long moment. Then she kisses me again, more emotion in it than ever before. I cradle the back of her head with one hand, and for several seconds, she rests her forehead against mine.
“I like spoiling you,” I murmur.
She laughs weakly in response, and says, “I believe it.”
I press a kiss to her forehead, and she beams up at me. I realize suddenly that it’s true—that spoiling Olivia is my new favorite activity. Something feels warm in my chest—seeing her happy like this is the best thing I can think of.
Most of Christmasday is a delightful blur. Olivia and I spend the entire morning together, just the two of us—eating leftovers, lounging on the couch, watching the electric fire, and, of course, having more sex.
Unfortunately, we don’t get to enjoy these luxuries all day. Our presence is expected at the Eastwood family’s Christmas event. Every year, my mother throws something that could almost be described as a party—a stiff, formal gathering that is always just a show of some kind, more about networking than celebrating.
This year, the Quinns have been invited to the party, too. I insisted, even though my father wasn’t exactly thrilled about it.
We head downstairs at around four in the afternoon to climb into the car and head to the country club for the Christmas party, and already, I’m regretting this. I know we’re expected to make an appearance, but the homey, cozy feeling of lounging around with Olivia is really all I want out of today.
If it weren’t for the fact that Olivia’s parents will be waiting for us, I’d be tempted to bail on the event altogether. But the thought of poor Robert and Maura, out of their element and forced to interact with my family, keeps me from telling the driver to turn around.
The party, when we arrive, is… fine. Plenty of familiar, if stiff, faces. Food. Drinks. The atmosphere is subdued and formal despite the festive decorations. It’s nothing like the homey, cozy feeling of being in my living room with Olivia.
Almost as soon as we arrive, Olivia spots her parents in the crowd and heads over to see them. I follow in her wake, avoidingeye contact with other partygoers. I don’t want to get drawn into a conversation just yet.
Maura and Robert are both dressed to the nines, though they seem disoriented in this crowd. They smile widely as soon as they see Olivia. Maura throws her frail arms around her daughter.
“Merry Christmas, sweetie,” she says. Then, to my surprise, she turns to me and wraps me in an equally tight hug. “And Merry Christmas to you, too!”
Once she releases me, I smile at her and say, “Merry Christmas to both of you.”
Robert shakes my hand firmly. I notice that his hand is over his wife’s shoulders, his thumb gently brushing her upper arm. Their closeness is touching, as is the warmth in their eyes as they speak to their daughter. They love the way a family should.
“Oh, look,” Olivia says, startling me out of my reverie. She points across the room, over to the huge windows that overlook the snow-blanketed golf course. “It’s Shane.”
“You can’t be surprised to see him,” I point out. “It’s the Eastwood family Christmas party, and he’s… well, an Eastwood.”
“But I feel like we never see Shane,” she says.
“I should probably go wish him a Merry Christmas, actually.” I nod to the Quinns, who both smile back at me. “Do you mind if I catch up with all of you afterward?”
“Go, go.” Maura smiles at me, waving a hand. “Say hi to your family.”
I make my way across the party, wading through the crowd, until I’m at Shane’s shoulder. He’s off by himself a bit, holding a glass of wine and staring almost forlornly out at the empty golf course.
“Hey,” I say, tapping him on the shoulder. He jumps as if startled, nearly spilling the wine.
